Sophia POV
My head snapped to the side from the force of the blow.
A sharp, white-hot sting radiated across my cheek.
I slowly turned my face back to look at Lila.
She rolled her wrist, shaking out her hand.
The timid, innocent facade she wore for Dominic was gone.
"You are nothing but a pathetic whore," she spat, her eyes lit with an unmasked venom.
"An interloper overstaying her welcome."
I stared at her, my expression a blank slate.
I did not raise a hand, nor did I speak.
Suddenly, a sharp, theatrical shriek tore from Lila's throat.
She grabbed the neckline of the stolen heirloom gown and violently tore the delicate, antique fabric.
Then, without hesitation, she threw herself backward.
Her body hit the cold marble floor with a heavy, sickening thud.
A second later, the sound of heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway.
Dominic surged through the crowd of men rushing from the banquet hall.
He did not kneel. He strode across the floor, the heels of his shoes scraping the marble, and seized Lila's wrist, pulling her up from the ground.
Lila wept hysterically, and began to slap her own face with trembling hands.
"I am a wicked girl!" she sobbed. "I deserve to be punished!"
Dominic grabbed her wrists to stop her.
"What happened?" he demanded, his voice a low, lethal rumble.
"She threatened me!" Lila cried, burying her face in his chest.
"She said she would order a hit on my parents if I didn't leave you!"
Dominic slowly lifted his head. When his eyes locked onto mine, the warmth in them had receded, his pupils constricting as if he were looking at a dead thing.
He stood up, pulling Lila with him and tucking her securely behind his broad shoulders.
"I gave you everything, Sophia," he said, his voice heavy with a dark disappointment.
"You have been spoiled by my protection."
He took a slow, deliberate step toward me.
"Did you believe my authority could not touch you?"
A hollow laugh escaped my throat, echoing off the polished marble walls.
"How do you plan to enforce that authority for your new wife, Don Falcone?" I asked, my voice unnaturally calm.
Dominic moved with lethal slowness, his hand closing over my left hand.
His fingers clamped around mine and with a brutal, forceful yank, he stripped the bullet-casing ring from my finger.
It was the ring he had personally forged for me in a dirty, dimly lit basement ten years ago.
He turned his head to look at his Consigliere.
"Detain her for stealing from the Family," Dominic ordered.
My mind did not go blank; it simply detached, observing the scene from a great and quiet distance.
"A few days in the holding cells will teach you submission," Dominic whispered, leaning close to my ear.
His breath was warm against my chilled skin.
"I will put the ring back on your finger once you break."
Two massive Family enforcers stepped forward.
They grabbed my arms and cinched heavy, industrial plastic zip-ties around my wrists.
The plastic bit viciously into my skin.
Yet, my face remained an impenetrable mask of calm.
I pulled my arm away from Dominic's lingering grip.
Lila still clung to Dominic's bicep.
She reached over, plucked the bullet-casing ring from his open palm, and casually tossed it into a nearby trash can.
Dominic did not even glance at the trash can.
Instead, he stroked Lila's hair in a soothing rhythm.
He reached into his jacket, pulled out his limitless black card, and handed it to her as a balm for her fake tears.
"Take her down," Dominic commanded the guards, never once looking back at me.
