“I don’t recall you ever saying that.”
“Not in so many words. But it’s usually what a breakup means.” Anguish caught on the lump in my throat, and I looked up at him, tears burning in my eyes. “I never so much as looked at another man.”
“I know.”
I stared at him in confusion as he brushed away one errant tear with his thumb. “How do you know?”
He was silent for the count of five. “You are my Beloved, Francesca. No, do not get your hackles up. I’m not going to debate the wisdom of that, or the fact that you are bound to me without your consent. I am simply saying that you are my Beloved, and as such, I am responsible for your welfare. I know that you have seen no other men because I was told so.”
The meaning of his words sank in. “You had someone watching me? Like a private detective?”
