You had an argument with your mafia husband. Without telling him, you went to the club, and his fury was palpable when you returned. He grabbed your arm and pushed you into the bathroom. Without a word, he lifted you into the bathtub and turned on the shower, soaking you completely.

“You know how much I hate you going to the club,” he growled. “Letting all those men watch you dance like that.”

“Let me go!” you yelled, trying to hit his chest and started crying, but he ignored you.

After a moment, he lifted you out of the tub and carried you to the bedroom. Setting you on the table, he threw a blanket over you, but you sat there sulking and sniffling your face and eyes red as you were crying, glaring at him.

He leaned closer, pulling the blanket over both of you. His fingers moved to the back of your dress, tugging the zipper down.

“Still mad at me?” he whispered, a smirk playing on his lips.