Carla
Don Angelo's hand rests firmly on my waist and he doesn't seem to be letting go anytime soon. I don't know why, but he seems to be a little more touchy and extra clingy since returning from work.
The servants follow us to the room and quickly drop the boxes onto a table against the wall. There are already a few books there, but it's still wide enough to fit all the items.
My mind still wonders about what could be in the boxes, and I am unable to stop my gaze from lingering on them for a little while longer than necessary.
“Ouch!!!”
I let out a low yelp when a sharp pain brings me out of my reverie. Don Angelo is currently sitting on the bed, and I am on his lap. I don't even remember when we came to this sitting position.
He looks into my eyes without remorse as he dares
