“Doesn’t make you any less mine.”
“And what about you?” I hiss, jabbing my pointer finger into his chest. “How many vaginas have you stuck your stupid cock in? I bet it’s more than fucking four.”
The side of his mouth tips up. “It’s more than fucking four.”
I clench my jaw. “I’m going to kill you.”
Dominic takes a step back. “Many have tried.”
I look back down at my hand.
It’s sore.
And having my lying husband’s name tattooed so many times on my body is tacky.
And it’s absolutely the most insane thing I could possibly think of someone doing to someone else.
And I hate it.
I do.
I would never do something like this.
But—and I can hardly even believe I’m thinking this—I’ve always wanted a tattoo. I’m just too frugal. And I’m not decisive enough. And I never wanted to deal with the pain.
The neon red flag finally unfurls in the center of my brain.
“Wait…” I lift my gaze to my husband.
Dom stops halfway to the door, his back to me. “What?”
“How did you even do this? Did you drug me again?”
Dominic turns to face me. “I wasn’t going to let you feel the pain.”
My outraged retort withers in my throat.
What sort of answer is that?
I press my fingertips into my temples. “I can’t believe I have to say this,” I grumble. “You can’t drug me again. That can’t be healthy.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
Great. The man I married knows how to drug people. How comforting.
“And you can’t tattoo me again,” I tell him.
“I don’t have any plans to do either.”
My hands drop. “Dom, that’s not an answer.”
“I prefer you calling me Dominic.”
“I prefer you when you aren’t drugging me and scratching your name into my skin.”
Dominic’s jaw ticks, then he tries to change the topic. “I moved your clothes into the closet.”
“Dom.” I stomp my bare foot. “I don’t want your name tattooed on my finger.”
“Little late for that, Angel.” He turns and heads for the door. “Go get ready. And put on something black.”
“Dom—”
Before he steps through, he looks at me over his shoulder. “We’re going to a funeral.”
His words stop my tirade.
A funeral?
CHAPTER 23
Dom
I close my eyes as the line of matching black SUVs makes its way through morning Chicago traffic.
This isn’t the time for me to worry about Valentine.
I don’t have space right now to think about the way her face paled when I told her we were going to a funeral.
There’s no point in asking her if she’s okay.
She’s not.
I inhale, filling my lungs.
This is a family affair, but when I step out of this vehicle, I’m the Boss.
I’m untouchable.
Invincible.
I’m out for blood.
I breathe until I feel the vehicle slow, then I open my eyes.
We’re here.
Val is sitting in the back seat with me, staring up at the cathedral. Trembling.
I place my hand over hers on the seat between us, causing her to tense. “I know you don’t want to be here, but you’re coming in as my wife. Everyone knows who you are, so you won’t need to introduce yourself. They know our marriage was quick, but they believe it was a whirlwind romance.”
She turns her head, finally meeting my gaze. “So did I.”
Her eyes have always been so alive. From the first time I ever saw her, one look at those golden-brown eyes and I could see she was full of life and energy.
But not today.
Today they’re dull.
And if the heart inside my chest hadn’t already been turned into a diamond through decades of pressure, the expression on her face would break it.
CHAPTER 24
Val
My hands are shaking so badly I don’t even protest when Dom helps me out of the vehicle.
Anything but a funeral.
Literally anything but this.
My throat feels tight, and I have to focus on breathing as Dom interlocks his fingers with mine. The sore skin of my ring finger protests, but the slight ache gives me something to focus on.
I need anything else to focus on.
We start forward across the sidewalk.
Dominic is dressed in uninterrupted black. And the look on his face reminds me that I don’t really know him at all. Because for the first time, I see what Savannah meant.