He was making me a promise. Delivered from on high, like charity tossed to a beggar.
He actually expected me to be grateful.
A frantic knock came from outside the door.
Olimpia's delicate voice drifted through the wood.
"Domenico, my chest hurts all of a sudden. Can you come be with me?"
His arms dropped from my waist instantly.
Not a second of hesitation. He turned to leave.
At the doorway, he paused and looked back.
"There's a family gala tomorrow night. I'm bringing Olimpia. She just got back to the country and doesn't have a proper gown." His eyes swept over me, utterly matter-of-fact. "That Starlight couture piece in your closet. Have the housekeeper take it to Olimpia tomorrow so it can be altered to fit her."
I stared at him in disbelief.
That Starlight gown. Five years ago, when he first claimed me as his woman before the entire Corrado inner circle, he had flown in a top French designer to create it for me, tailored to every measurement of my body.
Nine hundred and ninety-nine crystals, hand-set along the hem.
I had treated that dress like a treasure. I wouldn't even let the housekeepers touch it.