She stepped away, nodding, and I made to rise.

“I’ll have more, Rainey,” Salvatore said.

I shoved my chair back, scraping the legs along the hardwood floor.

“Sit, Lucia,” Salvatore said as Rainey poured. She avoided looking at either of us.

“I’m done.” I set my napkin on my plate.

“I said sit.”

His tone made me meet his gaze. He wiped his mouth and pushed his plate back, all joking gone from his expression. For a moment, we battled in silence, me standing, willing my legs to move, the limbs refusing. Him watching me, intently waiting to see what I’d do.

Rainey, who had left with the coffeepot, returned, saw us, and disappeared back into the kitchen. You could slice the tension in the dining room.

Salvatore raised an eyebrow and gestured for me to sit. I thought about my options. I was in his house, in a town I did not know, miles from the next house, without a vehicle.

I sat, folded my arms across my chest, and jutted my chin out.

“Your sister does that.”

“What?”

He stuck his chin out to show me. “Stubborn. I guess it runs in the family.”

I adjusted my position, sitting up straighter, lowering my stupid chin. He was observant, I had to give him that. He must have seen it at my father’s funeral.

“She and I are very different people.”

He raised an eyebrow but apparently decided not to pursue it. He shifted his position, pushing his chair back and folding one leg over the other. He took up a lot of space. Too much.

“Let’s go over the rules of the house now that you’re finally here.”

I waited in silence. I’d hear him out first. Tell him to go fuck himself after.

That thought took me back to an hour earlier, to him standing over me, his big naked body, his thick cock in his hand pumping, pumping…

I shook my head, forcing the image away, and looked at the floor littered with the bread I’d torn up throughout breakfast. I’d made work for Rainey in my anger at Salvatore. I’d pick it up when we were done.

“First rule, you are not to leave the grounds without my permission, and you are never to go anywhere alone.”

I snorted. “As if.”

“As if what?”

He leaned forward, his expression questioning but also consequential, calling me on my bullshit because he and I both knew I couldn’t leave without A) having a car, and B) knowing the code to open the gate.

“I won’t be treated like a prisoner.” I almost added in my own home, but this wasn’t my home.

“It’s not a prison, Lucia. I want you to be safe. I have enemies, like your father did. They may think getting to me is best accomplished through you. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”