CHAPTER TWELVE: Custom Made Collar.

“Who is she?” Giana asks finally, her anger matching mine.

“Someone you would never be.” I say in a cold tone, not in the least bit concerned of aggravating her.

Giana grips her knife tighter in her fists as though she is contemplating using it on me. I stare at her, daring her to try it.

Whatever peace existed between the Petrovs and the Gusefs was already on thin ice, any insolent action from her would ruin all that her family had fought to protect, and she knew it perfectly well.

“I don't care who you keep as a side piece, Dimitri, as long as you fulfil your responsibility to me as my husband.” Giana says in a cold tone, finally getting a rein on her anger.

“But you see Giana, I have no responsibility to you.” I say in a calm tone as I sit down on the chair beside hers.

I stay quiet for some minutes, allowing my last statement to sink in. I watch the wheels turn in her head, probably wondering where I'm heading with this conversation.

“That's bullsh—” Giana starts to say but I