Ortensia POV
A month later.
I'd been trying on dresses for what felt like hours, and every single one got a disapproving look from Vito. "I've literally gone through all the clothes in this boutique, Vito. What the hell?" I snapped, glaring at him from the fitting room mirror.
He didn't even blink, just lounged on the sofa with that signature smirk of his. "I don't like any of those things you tried out," he said, his tone flat, dismissive. He called them the clothes things. I sighed, clutching the fabric. I actually loved them.
"You don't like any?" I teased, rolling my eyes. "So what you're saying is... this boutique, which literally belongs to you, sells clothes without taste?" My voice dripped with mockery, but I knew what I was doing. Vito's jaw tightened instantly.
"
