“I’m not one of your subordinates, Drago!” I jab him again. “You can’t order me around.”
“You’re not my subordinate.” He takes a step forward, making me take two steps back. “But you belong to me. And I won’t let you go around as pale as a sheet of paper. We’re going for a run, and we’re not coming back until you get some color in your face.”
“I’m not your property,” I meant to say it with a grin, but it ends up being a semi-sneer through my teeth. For some reason, my “nice persona” filter doesn’t seem to work that well when he’s around.
Drago looks down at my hand, which is still pressed against his chest. “That says you are.”
I follow his gaze and see it focused on my wedding ring.
“Oh, really? I thought it meant we signed a marriage certificate, not a bill of sale. But I guess
