Mirabella's Pov
The front door of my home is pushed open by one of the soldiers. I step inside, my eyes immediately landing on my husband’s pacing form.
He stops walking and stares at me with an angry expression. Perfectly arched brows shoot up with expectancy.
What does he expect from me? An apology?
Well, too bad I’m not ready to give him one.
“Mirabella—”
I cut him off with my index finger raised to the air. “Shut your mouth and don’t f*****g talk to me.”
With that, I rush up the stairs. Matteo chases after me, but I’m quicker on my feet. When I run into our room, I slam the door in his face, clicking the lock twice.
Ignoring my husband’s incessant banging against the door, I head into the bathroom, wash myself clean of that w***e’s stench off me, head into the closet and adorn
