Celine's POV
I wanted to argue, to deny it, to remind him of who I was now, but the words wouldn't come.
"I'm married," I said finally, my voice weak. "I'm his wife, Alexandro. You have to remove whatever thoughts are in your head."
"But do you even feel married?" he asked, his tone soft, almost cruel in its honesty.
I swallowed hard.
No, the truth was that I'm his legalized slave.
But I couldn't say it aloud.
For a moment, I stopped thinking. My fear, my anger, my pain, they all blurred together into one reckless decision.
"Fine," I whispered. "Let's go."
Alexandro's eyes widened for a brief moment before he nodded, his movements swift. He took my hand, guiding me toward the door.
He made sure to open the door quietly and then shut it again, turning the locks as well, as if nothing had happened. He pulled me close under his coat. "Keep your head down," he murmured.
