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Knowing she’d wake up tomorrow with a shitty attitude was enough for me. Plus, I was actually looking forward to seeing what smart remarks she had in store for me.

6

I strained my eyes open,the early morning sunlight streaming through the heavy curtains. My head was pounding, but I guessed that was from the effects of a good night out. Well, until that prick ruined it. I stretched my arms out, the black sheets enveloping my body.

Wait a minute… These weren’t my sheets… Were these…

Bastard!

“Lorenzo fucking Ricci!” I snapped, sitting bolt upright, the thumping in my head now gone. “I’m going to kill you, you son of a bitch!” Of course, he was nowhere to be seen.

I climbed out of bed and exited his room, finding my bag outside of mine with a small note attached to it.

Next time you want to drink that much, don’t forget your damn purse. Oh, and by the way, the lock has now been removed. - Lorenzo

I snatched my purse off the floor and debated finding him and gutting the bastard, but I prioritised taking a shower first and washing all the shit from yesterday away.

After changing into a pair of ripped jeans and an oversized knit, I felt fresh and ready to face my so-called husband. I debated putting my wedding ring on, but honestly, why the hell should I? It wasn’t like this was a real marriage filled with love and loyalty, so why bother?

I followed the voices I heard as I neared a room with a closed door. Not bothering to knock, I barged into what I guessed was his office. Seven or eight pairs of eyes landed on me the second I almost took the door off its hinges.

“You bastard!” I yelled, not caring who was watching.

“Team, say good morning to my wife,” he teased, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

They all smiled in unison and muttered out, “Good morning.”

“Now, get out,” he ordered.

“I’m not done, so no, I won’t get out.” I folded my arms across my chest, standing my ground.

“I didn’t mean you,la mia bella ragazza.” He settled back in his chair, calling me something in Italian that I’d need to search the meaning of later. “Don’t keep jumping to conclusions.” He chuckled, sending the team out with a flick of his wrist.

“What the fuck did you do?!”

He grinned, his eyes twinkling with self-satisfaction, as he recounted the evening. “I put my intoxicated wife to bed.” He said, his voice dripping with smugness.

“I know that, but you put me in the wrong one!” I threw my hands up in the air, clearly getting nowhere with his sarcastic ass.

“Well, if you hadn't locked your door, got drunk, and fell asleep in the car then I would have been able to put you in the right one.”

“You could have woken me up!” I sighed, my blood boiling.

“Oh, trust me, I tried but you even slept through a damn gunshot. There was no waking you up.” Lorenzo rose from his chair as he spoke, his eyes never leaving mine.

“You stay over there. You’ve already done enough.” I reached behind my back, putting my hand on the handle of the door, readying my escape.

“What you did last night was incredibly stupid and reckless.” He stopped before me, gripping my wrist as I held on to the metal. “You’re married tome. You’re the daughter of aFedorov.You have countless targets on your back, and you swan around without a care in the world.” His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed, the lines on his forehead deepening as the smug grin he had worn moments before vanished. His lips pressed into a tight line, and he let out a sharp breath through his nose, exuding a palpable wave of frustration.

“I can protect myself. I don’t need you or anyone else watching my every move.” I scoffed as he pressed my body against the door, slowly suffocating me.

“That’s where you're wrong. You’re my wife, and you will do as you’re told, when you’re told.” He grabbed my face with one hand, holding me to his body with the other. “Where is your ring, Anastacia?” he demanded, his gaze dropping to my bare finger, just as they did the night before.

“Where it belongs.”

“Well, it clearly isn’t. I already told you if you didn’t wear it, I’d glue it to your finger.” He craned his neck, bringing his lips an inch from mine, the warmth of his breath teasing my skin. “Would you rather I tattooed my name on you instead?”

“I’d rather not be married to you in general.” I thrashed my head, wanting to get the hell away from him but it only made him tighten his hold on me.