Chapter 11 AN ASSESSMENT.
\~~~RAINA.
“You don’t want me to repeat myself, Talia. Trust me.”
His voice is low, and frighteningly calm, that kind of calm that tells me he is actually far from being calm.
“Wait, Luciano, just listen to me first,” I say quickly, dropping my bag on the floor as my palms stretch out in a useless attempt to soothe him as I move closer like I am approaching a sleeping lion.
“I swear, I placed the curfew shit in…”
His brows furrow instantly, stopping the words in my throat.
I swallow hard, and then decide to rephrase.
“I intend to return before the time you gave.” My voice trembles even though I hate that it does. “I really, really do. But I slept off and when I woke up, it was almost time. Trust me, I didn’t even… I didn’t even say goodbye to my parents before I rushed out. So…”
But Luciano didn’t blink, nor did he nod.
He didn’t even pretend to listen to me.
His eyes remain locked on me darkly, blankly, and dangerously uninterested.
It is almost like he is watching a channel and he is seconds away from switching off.
“You obey first,” he says finally, crossing one leg over the other, “then explain… and that is if I even demand it.”
A dry laugh escaped me as frustration slammed into my chest.
“To be honest, I don’t even understand why I am ranting so much,” I mutter, stopping a few steps away from him. I shift my weight onto my left leg and plant both hands on my waist. “It is not even that deep.”
His gaze drops slowly to my waist and my stance before lifting back up to my face.
Something flickers there and it is not anger. It is something worse.
Something that tightens the air between us like a pulled wire.
“Oh, it isn’t that deep?” he repeats quietly, each word dragging out with a deliberate intensity.
“I mean…” I shrug, even though my throat is tightening. “You said sunset, right? And I came back like, what… minutes after? I tried, Luciano. I genuinely tried.”
He tilts his head a fraction, studying me like he is calculating the exact moment he will break me for sport.
“That is the problem, butterfly,” he says softly. “You think trying is enough.”
“Wait, you don’t expect that I flew from where I was just because you set some ridiculous curfew. God, what are we even doing? Am I a baby? In fact, let’s be fucking realistic here.”
I slump onto the couch right in front of him, my elbows dropping onto my knees with a loud exhale. My legs won’t stop shaking, and my mouth won’t stop running even though my brain is screaming shut up, Raina, shut up.
“Why would a sane person… I am not referring to you, by the way.”
I lift my hand instantly, waving it like that would erase the insult hanging in the air. “I am just making an instance.”
His brows pull together even more, and Jesus Christ, is there any day this man has ever smiled? Even once? Even by mistake? Oh my God.
“So, as I was saying,” I continue, even though the silence is suffocating, “Why would a person, a husband, give his wife a curfew? It doesn’t make sense to me, to be honest.”
I lean back slightly, staring at him and hoping he will magically understand my logic.
“Let us think of it this way. I ask you to return home before a particular time. Does it sound sane to you? Does it even register in your head as a normal thing?”
Still, he doesn’t answer.
Not a word, not a blink or even a twitch.
News flash, I hate this man.
Have I admitted to that before? No.
But now? God, I hate him with every fiber of my being.
He just sits there, watching me with that stupid and unreadable face, and suddenly I feel like a complete idiot and a clown of a woman rambling in front of a stone wall.
My words dry up in my throat and my mouth slowly closes.
Because even though he is not talking, something in the air shifts subtly but sharply. And I realize I may have just talked myself straight into something I am not ready for.
“I have talked too much, right?” I whisper, more to myself than to him. “I am just trying to make you understand that I am not used to this. It is our first time doing this marriage thing, so we should both make it a little bit… bearable.”
He leans back slowly, his eyes narrowing with just the tiniest fraction. My stomach flips because it is finally like a predator finally acknowledging its prey.
“Come here,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, calm enough to make my pulse spike.
“That is all I said. Come here, and stand before me,” he says softly.
I swear, Luciano has a way of making someone feel like a lunatic.
It is as though I am the only one feeling so riled up and annoyed about this whole mess, because Luciano looks so calm that if someone walked in right now, they would assume I am on drugs and need to be locked up in a rehabilitation center.
Yes, it is that serious.
Slowly, I stand up, breathe out, and then cross the space between us.
Luciano sits there, majestically on his chair like a king on a throne, and me?
God, I am made to stand before him like this is supposed to be an assessment.
My palms sweat, my throat tightens, and for a second, I genuinely question if I am dreaming.
“What do you want to do to me? It is not like you will beat me, right?” I ask, pressing my lips together, my voice barely above a whisper.
Finally, he sits upright, uncrossing his legs with a slow, deliberate movement that sends a tremor through my entire spine.
His eyes lift to mine darkly, heavily, and unreadably.
Then, with no hesitation…
“Take off your blouse,” he says quietly. “And kneel.”