Rage still burned in Arianna’s chest, even though hours had passed since their fight. She had stayed curled in bed, staring at the ceiling, stewing in anger and frustration until it felt like poison in her veins.
It was unfair. Enzo could vanish for days without explanation, doing God knows what with God knows who, and no one questioned him. But she—she was locked in this gilded prison, watched, isolated, her every attempt to seek company twisted into something shameful.
The worst part? The way he had exploded earlier. She couldn’t stop replaying it in her mind.
Was it jealousy?
The thought made her snort bitterly into her pillow. No. Enzo didn’t get jealous. That had been pure ego—his bruised pride at the idea of losing control. She didn’t matter to him. What mattered was making sure
