Page 123 of Rosetti Family New York
He finishes dressing and turns to leave, but not before giving me one last look. His gaze is hardened, his jaw set. It's a lookthat says he's nowhere near done with me, that there are things unsaid, actions unfinished.
"Get some rest," he says finally, his voice a strange mixture of annoyance and affection. And then he leaves, the door closing with a soft click behind him.
I lay there for a long time after he leaves, my body still pulsing from our encounter. His words echo in my mind: "I own you." It's a chilling thought, but also... enticing. Domenico Rosetti owns me.
But the question is: could I ever own him? Could I ever hold power over this man who seems to have the world at his fingertips?
It's a dangerous thought — one that I quickly push away. Right now, I need to focus on surviving this marriage and keeping my secrets just that — secret.
With one last look at the room that was witness to our raw encounter, I curl up in the bed, pulling the covers over me as I let out a shaky breath.
23
Domenico
Ileave her in the bedroom, watching the space between us grow and grow until I cannot stand it any longer. I pretend I can stay away, even as the empty rooms begin to close in around me.
I breathe through the noise in my head. Slow. Calculated. It's not like me to lose my temper, to let someone else make me act before I think. Especially not a woman. I make my way past cold marble and cavernous rooms. All this space, and she's the only thing filling it. Guilt gnaws at me. I shouldn't have punished her. She was at her father's house. I should have never let her be there in the first place. When I found out, I saw red. When I found out, I hurt her before she could hurt me.
The kitchen is a cold, metallic monster, but it's the only thing to hide in. The clink of the whiskey bottle and the sound of the pour feel too loud, but I let them drown me out for a while. I lean against the surgical steel countertops and wait. Wait for the guilt to pass. Wait for the footsteps I hope are coming. Wait for anything. But she's not here. She doesn't come.
I can't sit still, can't keep this anger inside. Not anger at her, but at myself. I left her upstairs, in the bed, her skin marked with my own weakness. It's there in the red, hot prints. I run a hand through my hair and grip it tight, hoping it will take my mind off this woman who should not be under my skin. I pace again, feeling the chill of the mansion settle over me.
The whiskey burns. Maybe it will dull this ache. I listen. I wait for her to join me downstairs. Nothing but silence.
There is a click, the sound of the front door.
"Jesus, it's like a fucking crypt in here," Leonardo says as he comes in.
He cracks his knuckles, and Eleanor, his new wife, follows behind him. They just got back from a weekend in Paris, and I'm in no mood to listen to him run his mouth about it.
He notices. He always notices. "Someone's in a mood," he says. "Where's your ice queen?"
"She's busy."
Eleanor watches me closely. Her eyes are too sharp. I don't want her reading me, don't want anyone reading me right now. She has a knowing look on her face. Like she's been through this with my brother.
Leo grins. "Want me to fetch her for you, brother? I'm sure I could cheer her up."
I let out a breath. "Don't."
His smile gets bigger. He thinks I'm joking.
"You're an asshole," I say, but my mind is far from here.
Eleanor takes his arm and says, "Come on, Leonardo. Domenico has things on his mind."
"Right," Leo says. He winks at me. "See you at dinner."
I don't answer. I watch the two of them disappear into one of the many cold, lifeless rooms. I'm hoping Eleanor can keep him occupied so he won't be all over me tonight, but I don't count on it. Leo never stays away when there's trouble.
I take a drink. I wait. I'm still waiting for the footsteps I need to hear.
When Carmela gets home, with my mother in tow, clearly home from an afternoon of shopping, the silence I've been living in shatters completely. I want to breathe a sigh of relief, but the feeling stays stuck somewhere in my chest.
Carmela hugs me tight. "Dom!" she says. "Look what Mamma and I bought!"
I try to keep up with her chatter, try to keep up with her at all. "More abstract crap to decorate this place?"
