Caterina
“Would you just take a breath and let me—”
“No.” The word cracks out of me like a whip, and I watch his eyes bulge. Watch his chest heave with barely controlled fury. All because I questioned him. That’s all it took—one simple question about how he knew things he shouldn’t know—and he’s ready to detonate.
*This is who he really is.*
I back toward the door, my decision crystallizing with perfect, terrifying clarity. “I’m signing the lease on that apartment tomorrow. This whole thing was a mistake.”
“Caterina.” He throws his hands up, and suddenly I’m afraid of those hands again. The same hands that made me come apart with pleasure are now weapons. “What did you think was going to happen? That I’d just let you live anywhere? In some shithole studio with neighbors who could be criminals?”
“You followed me from work!” My voice is too high, bordering on hysterical. “You *stalked* me!”
“I was making sure you were safe—”
“Safe?” I let out a laugh that sounds unhinged even to my own ears. “You were spying on me! Watching me without my knowledge or consent!”
“If you’re so determined to live on your own,” he continues like I haven’t spoken, “I could set you up in a much nicer place. A guarded building. Security. Somewhere I know you’re protected—”
“Protected or controlled?” The words shoot out before I can stop them. “There’s a difference, Gianni.”
His jaw clenches. “You’re being dramatic.”
“Am I?” Everything’s clicking into place now, all the little moments I ignored. “You always know where I am. You show up at convenient times. You have opinions about everything I do, everywhere I go, everyone I talk to.” My chest feels tight, like I’m being crushed under the weight of this realization. “You’re just like my father. Trying to control every single part of my life.”
“That’s not—”
“Yes, it is!” I’m shouting now, don’t even care. “I’ve just traded one cage for another, haven’t I? Except at least with Dad, I knew the bars were there. You made me think this was freedom.”
His face goes dark, something dangerous flickering behind his eyes. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” I take another step backward. “You’re never going to see me as my own person. Someone capable of making her own choices. I’ll always have to follow your rules, always knowing you might be watching. Judging. Waiting to punish me when I step out of line.”
“Caterina—”
“I won’t live that way. I can’t.”
“You’re not thinking clearly—”
“I’m thinking clearly for the first time in weeks!” The tears are coming now, hot and furious. “God, I’m so stupid. I knew what you were. You told me what you were. But I thought—” My voice breaks. “I thought I was different. That you’d be different with me.”
“I am different with you—”
“You’re really not.” The truth tastes bitter. “You just have better packaging.”
His expression shifts, goes cold and calculating. “So that’s it? You’re leaving?”
“Yes.” I reach for the door handle behind me.
“Caterina!” His voice cracks like thunder when I bolt, my feet carrying me down the hallway before my brain fully catches up. I don’t have a plan. Don’t know what I’m doing beyond the animal instinct screaming *run, get away, survive*.
“You will not leave this house!” His footsteps pound behind me, heavy and fast. Too fast. “Caterina, get back here! Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
*Anywhere but here. Anywhere you’re not.*
I slam through the door to Tatiana’s wing, fingers fumbling with the lock. It clicks into place just as his weight hits the door from the other side, rattling it in the frame.
“Open this door right now!”
I run for the bedroom, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Should’ve gone straight for the car. Should’ve grabbed my keys and just gone. But panic makes you stupid, and I’m apparently the queen of stupid decisions lately.
I lock the bedroom door—like that’s going to stop him—and yank a bag from the closet with shaking hands. Laptop. Charger. Wallet. Phone. The essentials get thrown in at random while his voice echoes through the door.
“Caterina! Open the goddamn door!”
“Go to hell!” I scream back, zipping the bag with fingers that won’t stop trembling.
“You’re being irrational—”
“I’m being irrational?” A hysterical laugh bursts out of me. “You followed me like a stalker, and I’m the one being irrational?”
“I was protecting you—”
“From what? Making my own choices?” I sling the bag over my shoulder, looking around wildly. The window. Could I…?
*Oh my god. Am I actually considering jumping out a window?*
“If you walk out that door, we’re done!” he shouts. “Do you hear me? This is your last chance!”
“Good!” I yell back. “We should’ve been done weeks ago!”
The pounding stops. For a second, there’s nothing but silence, and somehow that’s worse. The quiet before the storm.
Then—CRACK.
The door explodes inward, wood splintering around the lock. He must’ve kicked it. Actually kicked down a door like we’re in some fucking action movie.
Gianni fills the doorway, shoulders heaving, hands clenched into fists at his sides. The look on his face—I’ve never seen him like this. Pure, undiluted rage mixed with something else. Something possessive and dark and absolutely terrifying.
“Going somewhere?” His voice is deadly quiet.
I press back against the dresser between the windows, the bag clutched to my chest like a shield. My heart’s trying to punch its way out of my ribcage.
“Gianni—” My voice comes out small, barely a whisper.
“You were saying something about leaving?” He takes a step into the room, and I watch the muscles in his jaw flex. “About how we’re done?”
“I—”
“Because from where I’m standing, little bird, you’re not going anywhere.”
The way he’s looking at me—like he wants to simultaneously fuck me and murder me—makes my blood run cold.
I think I just signed my own death warrant.
Because the man blocking my only exit doesn’t look like someone who’s going to let me walk away. He looks like someone who’s about to make sure I never walk away from anything again.