Page 49

“Gabriel.”

I can’t hear what my father says, but all I can see is Antonio rolling his eyes and adjusting his glasses, visibly upset by the topic.

“Well, actually, Theresa and I have plans tonight,” he says.

We don’t. My plans for tonight included putting my new library to the ultimate test and binge-reading the next book on myTBR.

“Sure. I’ll bring her with me,” he says through gritted teeth, and it’s clear my father is still insisting on something.

He ends the call and holds my phone out to me.

“We have dinner with your father at a restaurant in Nice at eight tonight. Dress appropriately,” he says as his eyes gaze over my current appearance, where a towel is wrapped around my dripping wet figure.

“Yes, sir,” I say, and his jaw clenches.

He grabs my chin before I can turn, and he lowers his mouth to my ear. “And next time I tell you to cover up, please listen. Do you hear me, Theresa?” His voice switches to a softer, yet more demanding tone that gives me whiplash.

“Y-yes.”

“Good, now take your little friend and go inside.” His icy green eyes pour into mine, and I find myself so entranced that I nod in agreement.

“First, he barely speaks to me since the wedding, and now he’s ordering me around. Who does he think he is? ” I ask as I whip the door of my cupboard open.

“Your husband?” Eleanor offers in response, and I glare at her. “Why are you so surprised that he’s telling you what to do, especially after growing up with your dad?”

I sigh, placing my hands on my hips. “I have nothing to wear.” I walk towards the bed, and she replaces me at the cupboard.

“I guess I just thought it would be different since he isn’t my father.”

“Men are all the same. A jealous man and an overprotective father aren’t too far apart.”

“Jealous?” I laugh. “Antonio is not jealous.”

Her head pops out from my cupboard, and she stares at me with a straight-faced expression. “Sure, Theá. He’s not jealous, and you need to have your eyes tested.”

He is not jealous. Sure, maybe a bit possessive, but notjealous. I know these types of men, all they care about is control.

“Well, since you don’t believe me, why not test the theory?” she asks.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just going to be men at the dinner?”

“I assume so, my father doesn’t have many female associates,” I say with a brow raised. I have no idea where she’s going with this.

“Wear this and then tell me if he gets jealous or not,” she says, holding up a lilac, mini dress.

My eyes widen a fraction. It’s a stunning dress that I haven’t had the chance to wear because my father would always complain that it was too short.

“So let me get this straight: you want me to purposely put on a short dress to attempt to get a reaction out of Antonio?”

“Essentially, yes.” She shrugs.

“Find me a cute pair of heels, and I’ll do it. At least it’ll make the dinner more interesting.”

She jumps up and down like an excited puppy before diving back into my cupboard to look for shoes.

Eleanor and I spend the next two hours doing my hair and makeup. I clench my thighs as the memory of what happened the last time Antonio caught me doing something he didn’t particularly like floods back in.