Page 92 of Unchained

I’m not sure whether to laugh or scream.

“Do you want me to try to get it all back? I assumed you’d fallen in love on your honeymoon.” Dom laughs as he says it.

I bark out a laugh. “Love? Are we even capable of such things?”

He sighs. “Gianna, you love me. You loved Max. So, I’d say you’re capable.”

“That’s different,” I say, but my breath falters.

That is true. But what I feel for Colt is different from anything I’ve experienced.

“I understand that, but it means you have a heart.” He clears his throat. “So, do you want me to talk to Hunter? Get it moved back?”

I pick at the skin around my nails. “No. Leave it.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Colten

I dish up the meatballs onto a plate and head outside. She doesn’t tear her eyes from her phone when I approach. She’s flipped a switch and turned off from me.

“I think you are meant to say thank you,” I say as I drop her plate in front of her.

She glances up, her eyes hollow, a stress rash creeping up her throat. “Thank you, Colt.”

We eat in silence, her phone constantly buzzing beside her. She ignores every single message. Doesn’t look at me either. Her mind is spinning so loud I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to hear her thoughts soon.

“What’s going on?” I ask, dropping my silverware.

She’s been quiet since she came out of her bedroom, but this is worse than quiet.

“Just remembering who I really am, cowboy.” She sighs, shuffling in her chair.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

This is not good.

She crosses her arms, which pushes her breasts up, distracting me.

“It means, put all my stuff back in my house, Colten Sterling.”

I want her in my house. I want to be with her. It was meant to be a surprise, and I didn’t think it would piss her off this much.

“Nope.”

“I’m not moving in with you.”

“Give me three good reasons, Gianna. Just three,” I tell her, cutting into my meatball.

“I need space. Privacy.”

I laugh. “And living in a small house with your brother gives you that?”

She scowls in response.

“We aren’t ready to live with each other yet,” she shoots back.

I arch an eyebrow. “We’re married,” I counter.