Chiara
He froze just as the words rolled out of my mouth.
I had never seen Domenico look so dumbfounded before. Not when I talked back to him, not when things didn’t go his way. But now?
Because of one question. Just one question.
“Were you jealous,” I asked quietly, “or just worried about your reputation and the disrespect?”
His mouth opened as if he wanted to speak, then closed again.
“I—” He cleared his throat. “Jealous?”
The way he said it sounded almost offended.
I swallowed. “Yes.”
He stood up straighter, as if he had suddenly realized everything going on around him, rubbing his neck awkwardly, his face contorted as if I had just asked him to solve world hunger.
“Why would I be jealous?” he said finally, his gaze narrowing.
I exhaled sharply, but didn’t reply. I just watch
