Page 44 of The Enforcer's Possession
Marco’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.“Temporary setbacks.Nothing that threatens the family’s position.”
“Of course not.”Dante’s tone suggested he believed otherwise.“Just interesting that your setbacks coincided with your failed marriage negotiations.Some might see a pattern.”
Francesca made a sound that might have been a laugh disguised as clearing her throat.Papa’s expression had gone carefully neutral -- the face he wore when watching situations spiral beyond his control.
“Failed is such a harsh word.”Marco set down his fork with precision.“I prefer to think of it as delayed.Not everyone makes a wise decision the first time.”
The words hit me like a physical blow.I felt my breath catch, felt heat flood my face -- part humiliation, part rage.Dante’s hand on my thigh became painful, his fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks.
“Are you calling my wife unwise?”Dante’s voice had dropped to a register I’d only heard once before -- in that private room when he’d stripped me and proven exactly who I belonged to.
“I’m suggesting that youth and inexperience can lead to regrettable decisions.”Marco leaned back in his chair, projecting confidence despite the tension crackling through the room.“Caterina is young.Beautiful.Surely entitled to make mistakes.The question is whether she’ll realize her error before it’s too late.”
My heart hammered against my ribs.I should say something.Should defend myself, my choice, my marriage.But my throat had closed up and I couldn’t seem to form words.
“Too late for what?”Dante asked.Each word was measured, controlled, absolutely lethal.
“For correction.”Marco reached for his wine glass, studying the deep red liquid.“It would be tragic if something happened to your beautiful wife while you’re busy with business.The city can be so dangerous.Accidents happen.Beautiful young women can be so vulnerable.”
The room went silent.Not the polite silence of dinner conversation pausing.The kind of silence that preceded earthquakes and explosions and violence that left bodies in its wake.
I watched Dante’s profile and saw his jaw clench, saw a muscle jump at his temple, saw his free hand -- the one not gripping my thigh hard enough to bruise -- curl into a fist on the table.
Mama had gone pale.Luca looked like he wanted to bolt.Papa’s expression had shifted from neutral to alarmed, probably calculating how to de-escalate before someone ended up bleeding on his imported Persian rug.
But it was Francesca’s reaction that struck me most.She was smiling.Actually smiling, like this was the most entertaining thing she’d witnessed in months.
“Marco.”Papa’s voice carried authority and warning.“Perhaps we should --”
“Are you threatening my wife?”Dante cut him off, his attention locked on Marco with the focus of a predator about to strike.
“Threatening?”Marco’s expression was all innocence.“Merely expressing concern.As a family friend.As someone who cares about Caterina’s well-being.”
“You don’t get to care about her well-being.”Dante’s hand left my thigh, both of his hands now visible on the table, palms flat like he was physically restraining himself.“You don’t get to speak her name.You don’t get to look at her.And you certainly don’t get to make veiled threats about her safety.”
“I believe you’re overreacting --”
“I believe you’re about to learn what happens when someone threatens what belongs to me.”
The words should have made me angry.Should have sparked my usual defiance about being property, about being owned.Instead, something hot and primal coiled in my belly, heat pooling between my thighs despite the fear coursing through my veins.
I was watching my husband prepare to commit violence on my behalf.Watching him barely restrain himself from reaching across this formal dinner table and doing something that would end with blood on the white linen.
And God help me, I wanted him to.
Wanted to see him prove his ownership again, wanted to watch Marco learn exactly what it cost to threaten me, wanted Dante’s controlled fury unleashed because I was worth defending, worth protecting, worth claiming with violence if necessary.
The realization made shame burn hot in my chest even as arousal made my breathing shallow.
“Dante.”Papa tried again.“Perhaps we should all take a moment --”
“No.”Dante stood, his chair scraping back with a sound that made me flinch.He didn’t move toward Marco.Not yet.Just stood there radiating barely contained violence while everyone at the table held their breath.“Marco wants to play games.Make implications.Throw out threats disguised as concern.So let me be absolutely clear about the consequences.”
Marco set down his wine glass, his injured pride making him stupid enough to respond.“Is that supposed to frighten me?You forget who you’re --”
“Touch her, threaten her, even think about her,” Dante said, his voice dropping even lower, “and I will end you.Not quickly.Not cleanly.I will make your death last days.Weeks if I can manage it.And everyone who helped you -- every associate, every family member, every person who enabled your delusions -- they’ll watch.They’ll see exactly what happens when someone threatens Dante De Luca’s wife.”
I could feel my pulse in my throat, could feel heat and fear and arousal mixing until I couldn’t separate them.It was insane -- reckless, dangerous, and guaranteed to have consequences.
