The Billion Dollar Wife

#15.

The drive back to the estate felt longer than the journey away, Ava lingered in the city, drifting through quiet squares and watching the sky deepen into a bruised purple. She needed the distraction.

The evening had fully settled by the time she steered the car through the wrought iron gates. Dominic stood in the center of the gravel courtyard, flanked by a phalanx of his men. They were a unified wall of black dark suits. The sight of them, so still and formidable, made the steering wheel feel slick under her palms.

She parked the car with slow precision. Through the windshield, she felt the pull of Dominic’s gaze. He wasn't looking at the car, he was looking through it, his eyes locked firmly on her with an intensity that suggested he had been counting the seconds of her absence.

Ava stepped out, she forced her chin up and walked toward him, the gravel crunching under her heels like breaking bone.

"Leave," Dominic said. It wasn't a shout, but the single syllable carried enough authority to scatter the men instantly.

He didn't move as she approached. He waited until she was mere inches away, his presence a suffocating heat in the chill of the night. "Where are you coming from?" he asked. The question was quiet, stripped of any warmth.

Ava paused, her heart performing a slow, heavy thrum. "I went out," she said, choosing her words with the care of someone walking through a minefield. "I had things to get done."

"What things, exactly?" He stepped closer, his shadow falling over her.

"It’s really not your business, Dominic," she replied, her voice gaining a defensive edge. "It was personal."

She tried to sidestep him, intent on reaching the front door, but his hand shot out with the speed of a closing trap. His fingers clamped around her arm, not enough to bruise, but with a terrifying, unyielding strength that yanked her back into his space.

"Everything you do is my business," he said, his voice dropping into a dangerous tone. "Every breath you take, every person you see, every secret you try to bury in the dirt. It is all mine. Now, speak up."

Ava locked eyes with him, refusing to let the tremor in her knees reach her expression. "I went to see a friend," she lied, the words tasting bitter.

Dominic’s grip didn't loosen. His eyes narrowed, searching hers for the fracture in the story. "What kind of friend? Male or female?"

"Male," she said, the defiance in her tone a desperate shield.

The air between them seemed to crack. Dominic’s expression shifted, the cold curiosity hardening into something far more visceral—a dark, possessive fury. "Then let this be the first rule of this house, since I haven't seen fit to give you the list yet," he growled. "No meetings with men. Not today, not ever."

Ava went rigid, a hollow laugh escaping her lips. "You’re joking. You think you can dictate who I speak to?"

In an instant, his hand moved from her arm to the base of her throat. A light pressure that forced her to look up at him. "Do I look like I’m joking, Ava?" he asked, his voice a low rasp.

"I’m not scared of you," she hissed, though her pulse was racing against his palm.

"Should I be worried about your fidelity, then?" he asked, his gaze dropping to her mouth. "Are you performing the role of the wayward wife while the ink on the license is still wet?"

"I do nothing like that," she fired back, her voice shaking with indignation. "I am not what you think I am."

"Then tell me," he whispered, his face inches from hers. "Where did he touch you? Did he put his hands on this neck? Did he taste these lips? Where, Ava?"

The sheer, raw jealousy in his voice was quite surprising. Ava shoved at his chest with all her strength, a rough breath escaping her. "He is a friend, Dominic! That is all. Not everyone in this world treats people like property."

Dominic smirked, though the expression was devoid of any humor. He stepped back toward her, regaining the ground she had just fought for. "As long as you carry my name, you are my business. Don't mistake my patience for a lack of sight."

Ava didn't stay to argue. she spun on her heel and marched toward the house, her breath coming in short. She reached her room and swung the door open, but before she could slam it shut, Dominic’s hand caught the wood. He followed her inside, his presence invading the only space she had left.

"I demand privacy," she snapped, turning to face him.

Dominic ignored the demand, leaning casually against the doorframe as he watched her. "There is a gala tomorrow night," he said, his tone shifting back to the detached register of a businessman. "A significant event for the family. I’m bringing in cloth designers tomorrow morning for you to select a gown, along with a team of artists for your hair and face."

Ava straightened, the mention of the event cutting through her anger. A gala meant a crowd. A crowd meant a chance to observe, to move, to be more than a prisoner in a gilded cage. "A gala?"

"Indeed," he said, his eyes raking over her. "Tell me, what is your preferred designer? I’d hate to waste time on second rate rags."

"Dior," she said, her voice steadying.

"And shoes?"

"Louboutin," she replied, a small, involuntary smirk touching her lips.

Dominic nodded slowly, a dark glint in his eyes. "You have remarkably expensive taste for such a little snake," he remarked.

The smirk vanished from Ava's face as if he had struck her. A reminder of his disdain.

"Cooperate tomorrow," he continued, his voice turning cold and professional once more. "You will act the part of the devoted wife. You will look at me as if we are in love, and you will move through that room with the grace I expect from a woman of your position. This gala represents the elite of this city, and my family’s reputation is the cornerstone of it all."

He took a final step toward her, his height looming large on the bedroom wall. "Do not embarrass me, Ava. You won't like the consequences."

Without waiting for her reply, he turned and left.