Azalea
Everyone in the hall gasped when he said this. I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. He even added his last name to mine.
This evil man. He smiled when he saw how shocked I looked, as if he enjoyed seeing me suffer.
“Oh,” Chiara said, her voice shifting. “I did not know you are his wife.”
“I am not,” I said quickly, panic rising in my chest. “I am not his wife.”
But then he did something that made my world stop moving—he put his arm around my waist, pulled me close to his body, and pressed his lips against mine. The kiss felt like being branded with a hot iron.
“Stay still,” he whispered against my mouth as I tried to push him away with all my strength. When he was satisfied with humiliating me, he finally let me go.
“She is my wife,” he announced again, his voice full of possession and pride.
“Sir,” Matteo called, breaking the tension, and I felt a flicker of relief.
“What is it?” Adriano asked, his arm still locked around me like a chain.
“Your attention is needed
