Angelo
I’ve never been so angry with Rosalia, not even when she made a bit of a scene at that first dinner party, not even when she mouthed off to me afterward. And I have no intentions of hiding it, or making this easier on her.
I march towards her, ignoring the way she shrinks back as I reach for her, the security parting around me like a wave as I do. She lets out a small yelp of protest as my fingers close around her elbow, but I ignore that too, leading her at a quick pace towards the door that goes to the smaller living room down the hall.
“No one is to disturb us,” I tell one of the guards sharply. “Make sure that no one does.”
“Angelo—” Rosalia’s voice is a thready whisper, and it stabs at my chest, but I swallow back the urge to go a little easier on her. I wait until we’re in
