Forced To Be The Mafia King's Bride (by Oma Green) novel Chapter 167

Gianna's POV

The shock on Dante's face was immediate.

"After everything we just did? Really? Now?"

He stared at me for a long moment, and I watched realization dawn across his features. His expression shifted from confusion to understanding to hurt.

"Fuck, Gianna." He dragged a hand down his face. "Now you don't trust me enough to give me your virginity? You want to keep that piece of yourself away from me?"

I shook my head, my mouth opening to lie, to deny it. "That's not..."

The words died in my throat.

His shoulders rolled back, tension radiating off him in waves. Without another word, he turned and walked into the bathroom. The sound of running water filled the room.

I blinked. Was he... having a shower? In the middle of our conversation?

He was clearly furious with me.

And I didn't blame him. I'd ruined the night. He'd given me intense, mind-blowing orgasms, made me feel things I didn't know my body was capable of. And what had I done? I threw it back in his face with my paranoia and fear.

I felt awful, like I was the worst person alive.

When he returned several minutes later, he strode directly to the bed. Before I could process what was happening, he scooped me up into his arms.

"Dante, what..." I clutched at his shoulders, confused.

He didn't respond. He just carried me into the bathroom. The tub was filled with steaming water, and he lowered me into it with surprising gentleness despite the anger still radiating from him.

The heat was almost too much, making me gasp as it enveloped my skin. Warmth soaked into my trembling muscles, into the places where he'd touched me, where his mouth had been.

"After all that," his voice held an edge of arrogance mixed with bitterness, "you need to get cleaned up. Thoroughly."

The implication made heat flood my cheeks. Evidence of what we'd done was still on my skin, dried between my thighs.

I opened my mouth, but he was already moving away.

"Dante..."

He didn't look back at me. "I need to get someone to change the sheets."

I sank deeper into the tub, letting the heat seep into my trembling muscles. The water should have been soothing, but instead, it felt like punishment, surrounding me with the scent of what should have been a romantic bath shared between newlyweds.

What had I done?

I'd self-sabotaged. That's what. Fear had made me push away the one person who'd made me feel alive tonight. Dante was pissed, and I'd earned every bit of his anger.

The memory of how he'd touched me, how he'd made me feel, played through my mind on repeat. The intensity of the pleasure, the way he'd coaxed my body into doing things I didn't know were possible. And instead of thanking him, instead of surrendering to whatever this was between us, I'd thrown his dead wife in his face and questioned his motives.

God, I was an idiot.

The bathroom door opened, and Dante walked back in. He'd changed into loose sleep pants that hung low on his hips, and I tried not to stare at the defined muscles of his chest and abdomen.

Without a word, he knelt beside the tub and reached for me.

"I can do it myself."

His eyes shot to mine, a glare so cold it made me shrink back against the tub. I pressed my lips together, going still.

The concern in his voice, breaking through that cold facade, made my chest ache.

I nodded quickly. "Yes. I'm just... sensitive still."

Tenderness flashed in his dark eyes for a moment, but it was gone so fast I might have imagined it. He resumed washing, more gently this time, careful not to apply too much pressure to my oversensitized flesh.

I placed my hand against his, forcing him to stop, to look at me. "Dante... you can't ignore me forever. We need to talk."

"You made your feelings clear." He retrieved his hand and began rinsing the soap from between my legs. "There's nothing to talk about."

"You know we have a lot to unpack. You've clearly misunderstood what I said."

His hands stilled. When he looked up at me, his eyes were hard. "I didn't misunderstand you, Gianna." His voice was controlled, but I could hear the fury beneath it.

"You reminded me this is a contract marriage. You said feelings would overcomplicate things. And after weeks of me proving myself, you still don't trust me."

"That's not..." I struggled to find the right words. "I just need you to understand where I'm coming from. This is all so new, so fast, and I..."

"Stop." His voice cracked on the word. "Just... stop."

The pain in his eyes made my throat tighten as he looked away.

"You want to know what I understand?" His voice was rougher. "I understand that I've spent weeks trying to show you who I am. Trying to assure you that you have all of me."

He dragged a hand through his hair, water dripping from his fingers. "But nothing I say or do is ever enough.”

"Dante..."