She tilted her head back, letting out these soft little moans. "Easy… Arianna's still in the shower. Didn't you get enough in the car earlier?"
He growled low, voice sharp, possessive. "Shut up! If you even think about letting another man touch you, you'll regret it."
She giggled, wicked and pleased, and then her eyes slid to me. Standing there, frozen.
"Alright," she purred, "I won't. I'm all yours. You're so jealous, babe, hmm?"
That was enough. I grabbed my clothes, shut the bathroom door, and locked it.
The water was hot when I slid into the tub, but it didn't burn as much as the memory replaying in my head.
Seven years ago. Our honeymoon on that island. I'd looked just once at a man with abs. Marcello lost his mind so he kept me locked inside the suite for a week. The bodyguards stood outside the door the entire time, and not one of them knocked. Not once. In this world, when the Don closed a door, it stayed closed.
When the bed broke and the supplies ran out, he pulled me close. "Arianna, I've got everything you need. Don't look at anyone else. Just promise me."
I had promised him. Over and over.