Thorns And Silk

Chapter 7— Silk & Gold

Aria's POV

I realized three days after marrying Dante Castellano that I owned almost nothing.

Not truly.

The dresses hanging inside my closet at the Voss estate had never belonged to me emotionally. Elena chose them. Sebastian approved them. Every outfit had always been selected based on appearances, usefulness, obedience.

Pretty things for silent girls.

But now, standing inside the massive walk-in closet of the Castellano estate, I stared quietly at the empty shelves Rosa had prepared for me and felt strangely exposed.

The closet itself was bigger than my old bedroom.

Soft golden lights glowed overhead while rows of polished shelves surrounded me. Dante’s side already looked lived in—dark suits, expensive watches, neatly arranged shoes.

My side remained painfully bare.

Just two folded sweaters Rosa bought me.

One wedding dress.

And a small stack of old books sitting in the corner beside the letters Cleo once wrote me years ago.

That was all.

A knock sounded softly behind me.

I turned quickly.

Dante leaned against the doorway wearing a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled upward, his dark hair still slightly damp from a shower.

His eyes moved across the nearly empty shelves.

Then back to me.

“You have no clothes.”

Heat crept into my cheeks instantly.

“I do.”

“No,” he said calmly. “You have evidence of neglect.”

The bluntness of the statement startled me silent.

Dante stepped fully inside the closet before pulling his watch onto his wrist.

“Get dressed.”

My stomach tightened slightly. “Why?”

“We’re leaving.”

“Leaving where?”

“Shopping.”

I blinked.

“What?”

Dante looked unimpressed already. “You need clothes.”

“That’s expensive.”

His expression became dangerously blank.

“Aria.”

I immediately lowered my gaze. “Sorry.”

Christ.

I really needed to stop doing that.

Dante exhaled slowly before walking closer.

“You’re my wife,” he said calmly. “You’re allowed to own things.”

The words shouldn’t have affected me so much.

Allowed.

Such a small thing.

Such a devastating thing.

I swallowed hard. “I don’t need much.”

“Good,” Dante replied smoothly. “Because we’re buying everything.”

My eyes widened.

Everything?

“No, that’s too much—”

“It’s happening.”

“But—”

“It’s already decided.”

I stared at him helplessly while he adjusted the cuff of his shirt calmly like he wasn’t completely insane.

“How many clothes do normal people own?” I asked quietly.

Dante blinked once.

Then unexpectedly—

His mouth twitched.

“Normal people?”

“I’ve never really…” I hesitated awkwardly. “Shopped before.”

Silence.

Real silence.

Something shifted in Dante’s expression instantly.

Not surprise.

Something darker.

Anger.

“Sebastian never let you?”

I looked away.

“Aria.”

“He said spending money on me was pointless.”

The room became very still.

Dante’s jaw tightened visibly.

Then he spoke in a voice so calm it almost sounded dangerous.

“Get your coat.”

Dante's POV

The first mistake the saleswoman made was looking at Aria with pity.

The second mistake was addressing me instead of her.

“What style does your wife prefer, Mr. Castellano?”

Aria immediately tensed beside me.

Like she expected to answer incorrectly.

I leaned back slightly in the leather chair while watching the woman carefully.

“You ask her,” I said coldly.

The saleswoman flushed immediately. “Of course. My apologies.”

Aria looked overwhelmed the moment assistants began bringing dresses toward the private showroom.

Too many colors.

Too many choices.

Too much attention.

Her fingers twisted nervously inside the sleeves of her cream sweater while she stared at racks of designer clothing worth more than most people earned in a year.

“You can touch them,” I said quietly.

Her eyes lifted toward me uncertainly.

“I know.”

“You’re staring like they’ll explode.”

A tiny breath escaped her.

Almost a laugh.

Good.

The assistants started showing dresses one by one.

“This silk piece is from Milan—”

“No,” Aria whispered immediately.

The woman blinked. “You don’t like it?”

“I-it’s beautiful,” Aria said quickly. “Too beautiful.”

Something ugly settled beneath my ribs.

Too beautiful for her.

That’s what she meant.

Like she didn’t deserve expensive things.

I watched her carefully while another assistant brought several sweaters toward her.

Aria touched one softly.

Just brushed her fingertips across the fabric.

“That’s nice,” she murmured quietly.

I looked toward the employee instantly.

“We’ll take it.”

Aria turned toward me quickly. “What?”

“The sweater.”

“You don’t have to buy it.”

I ignored her.

“Get every color.”

The saleswoman blinked. “Every color?”

“Yes.”

Aria looked horrified. “Dante.”

“You touched it,” I replied simply.

Marco, unfortunately, chose that exact moment to walk into the showroom carrying coffee.

“I leave you alone for twenty minutes and you’re already financially terrorizing your wife?”

Aria looked startled. “Marco?”

He grinned brightly before handing her a cup. “Mama Rosa sent backup because apparently you two shop with all the emotional tension of divorced parents.”

Dante looked unimpressed. “Why are you here?”

“To witness history.”

Marco dropped dramatically into the chair beside me before pointing at Aria.

“You know this man once threatened a tailor because his suit sleeves were uneven.”

“They were uneven.”

“My point exactly.”

Aria stared down into her coffee cup, but I caught it anyway.

That tiny smile trying to hide itself.

Interesting how often she smiled around Marco.

The realization irritated me more than it should have.

Marco noticed immediately.

“Oh my God,” he gasped dramatically. “You’re jealous of me.”

“I could shoot you.”

“You say the sweetest things.”

Aria laughed softly before quickly covering her mouth like she wasn’t supposed to.

The sound hit me directly in the chest.

Again.

Christ.

One of the assistants approached Aria carefully with a dark red dress in hand.

“This would look stunning on you.”

Aria froze immediately.

Too much attention again.

“I don’t know…”

“Try it on,” I said quietly.

Her eyes met mine nervously. “What if it doesn’t look good?”

The question irritated me instantly.

Not because she asked.

Because someone had clearly taught her to fear failure over something as simple as clothing.

“Aria.”

She swallowed hard.

“You could wear a garbage bag and still distract every man in this building.”

Silence.

Marco slowly lowered his coffee cup.

The saleswomen looked visibly uncomfortable witnessing whatever the hell that sentence had been.

And Aria—

Aria stared at me like her brain stopped functioning completely.

Heat slowly climbed into her cheeks.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

Marco whispered loudly, “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Shut up.”

“No, seriously, I need to write that down.”

Aria disappeared into the fitting room moments later while Marco continued grinning like an i***t.

“You’re obsessed already.”

“I’m not.”

“You bought her seven sweaters because she touched one.”

“She liked it.”

“She blinked at a handbag and you bought two.”

I remained silent.

Marco pointed triumphantly. “See?”

Before I could threaten him again, the fitting room curtain slid open softly.

And every thought in my head stopped.

Aria stepped out slowly wearing the dark red dress.

Silk wrapped around her body perfectly, soft against pale skin while the deep color made her eyes look darker somehow.

Beautiful wasn’t a strong enough word.

She looked nervous immediately under the silence.

“It’s bad?”

Marco physically slapped my shoulder. “Say something before she thinks she looks ugly.”

I stood slowly.

Aria’s breathing visibly hitched.

Not fear.

Something else.

Interesting.

I walked toward her carefully until I stood directly in front of her.

Then quietly—

“Turn around.”

She blinked. “What?”

“The dress. Turn.”

Slowly, she obeyed.

The silk shifted smoothly around her legs while she turned beneath the golden lights.

Mine.

The thought arrived suddenly.

Possessive.

Violently instinctive.

Mine to protect.

Mine to spoil.

Mine.

Dangerous feeling.

I stepped closer before lightly touching the fabric near her waist.

Aria immediately went still.

“You like it?” I asked softly.

Her throat moved as she swallowed.

“I think so.”

“Good.”

I looked toward the employees.

“We’ll take it.”

The entire rack disappeared after that.

Aria's POV

I had never seen someone spend money so casually before.

It terrified me.

Every store became another blur of luxury and confusion while Dante purchased things faster than I could process them.

Dresses.

Shoes.

Coats.

Jewelry.

Books.

So many books.

The moment Dante learned I liked reading, he bought half the bookstore.

Literally.

“You can’t do that,” I whispered while employees carried stacks toward the register.

“Apparently I can.”

“That’s too many.”

“There’s no such thing.”

Marco appeared beside me holding three shopping bags. “Don’t argue with him. He once bought a restaurant because they ran out of cheesecake.”

“I liked the cheesecake.”

“You’re insane.”

“Rich,” Dante corrected calmly.

I stared at the growing mountain of bags helplessly.

Nobody had ever looked at something I liked and simply… given it to me.

Without conditions.

Without cruelty afterward.

The realization made my chest ache strangely.

By evening, exhaustion had settled deeply into my body.

Dante noticed immediately.

Of course he did.

“You’re tired.”

“I’m okay.”

Lie.

My feet hurt from walking, and all the attention from employees had drained me emotionally.

Dante studied me for half a second before speaking.

“We’re done.”

Relief flickered through me instantly before guilt followed right behind it.

“I’m sorry.”

Marco groaned loudly. “Take a shot every time she apologizes and you’ll die.”

“I’ll work on it,” I murmured softly.

Dante’s eyes shifted toward me briefly.

Then lower.

My hands.

I realized too late that my fingers were rubbing anxiously against the sleeves of my sweater again.

Nervous habit.

Dante reached toward me suddenly.

I froze instinctively.

But all he did was gently uncurl my fingers from the fabric.

“Relax,” he murmured quietly.

The touch lasted barely seconds.

Still, warmth spread slowly beneath my skin afterward.

We stopped at one final store before leaving downtown Chicago.

A small boutique tucked between larger designer brands.

Quiet.

Warm.

Safe.

Inside, soft piano music played while shelves displayed handmade scarves and delicate knitted sweaters.

My eyes landed immediately on a cream-colored cardigan near the back wall.

Simple.

Soft-looking.

Comfortable.

I reached toward it absentmindedly.

Dante noticed.

Naturally.

“We’ll take it.”

I sighed quietly. “Dante.”

“You touched it.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to buy it.”

His dark eyes met mine steadily.

“Yes,” he said calmly. “It does.”

My heartbeat stumbled unexpectedly.

The saleswoman smiled softly while folding the cardigan carefully. “Your husband clearly adores you.”

Silence.

Heat flooded my face instantly.

Marco looked seconds away from collapse trying not to laugh.

And Dante—

Dante didn’t deny it.

Dante's POV

She fell asleep in the car ride home.

Curled slightly against the leather seat with exhaustion written across her face while Chicago lights passed outside the tinted windows.

I looked down at her quietly.

Her arms remained wrapped loosely around the cream cardigan from the boutique.

The one she touched twice.

Interesting how little it took to make her happy.

A sweater.

Books.

Coffee.

Gentleness.

The bare minimum felt life-changing to her.

That realization sat heavily in my chest.

Marco glanced toward us from the front seat before lowering his voice.

“She trusts you more now.”

I looked out the window.

“Maybe.”

“No,” Marco corrected softly. “Definitely.”

My gaze shifted back toward Aria.

She slept peacefully for once.

No fear.

No nightmares.

Just quiet exhaustion.

Dangerous thing, attachment.

Men like me weren’t built for softness.

But when Aria shifted unconsciously closer toward my side in her sleep—

I still wrapped my coat around her anyway.