Page 13 of Thin Lines (Donati Bloodlines 2)

As long as Affonso believed that he had Emma eatingout of his palm, spoiled and pretty, then he was a happy man who was unlikelyto turn on her. At least, that’s how it seemed. Emma had also learned that whenit came to her new husband, what appeared on the surface was very differentfrom intentions hiding below his charming smile and warm hand.

His cold eyes said it all.

Affonso always watched her. Emma couldn’t escape fromit, no matter how hard she tried. In a room full of people, it was even worse.Affonso rarely left her side, his hand permanently attached to her lower backor his fingers intertwined with hers, grounding her to the floor.

Emma had slowly been trying to learn her new home andNew York. But even when she stepped outside of the Donati home to do thesimplest things—like her nails or a bit of shopping—her enforcer was waiting.Affonso’s number would light up her phone.

Be a good girl, he would say.

That was all.

Her husband had a set of rules that he expected Emmato follow at all times. She couldn’t sleep in past nine in the morning. Shecouldn’t come downstairs to greet him or be seen unless her hair and face weredone and ready for the day. Her clothes were approved by him daily, and hercash was limited to credit cards that were closely monitored. She wasn’tallowed to drive herself around; she had a driver to do all that business.Affonso preferred her soft-spoken, smiling, and silent when he was speaking.

He never raised a hand to her. He treated her withrespect in front of others. He was never nasty in an obvious way, and he didn’tspeak badly of her or her position as his wife.

The control still suffocated Emma like Affonso had puthis hands around her throat and was squeezing the very life out of her. It wasalmost like she couldn’t blink without his permission.

Emma vividly remembered the first time it became apparentto her just how much influence Affonso really had in her day-to-day life. Shehad gone shopping shortly after the wedding, right before Michelle and Cynthiawere to be sent back to boarding school. She had hoped to soften her newstep-daughters, and invited them out with her.

The girls had no women in their lives to help themwith certain things. Their grandmothers were off playing the old, bitchy mobwives to their husbands, and too busy to pay their visiting granddaughters anymind. Michelle and Cynthia had no one to talk to about boys, clothes, what wason their minds, or even the boring things, like their favorite televisionshows.

No adult females, anyway.

After taking the girls to one of their favorite shopsfor clothes, Cynthia wanted to stop at a lingerie shop. Emma hadn’t seen theproblem in going. She took the then fourteen-year-old Michelle and thesixteen-year-old Cynthia in to pick out whatever it was they needed. Emmapicked up a few things herself.

By the time she got home with the girls, Affonso waswaiting. He’d apparently gotten notifications for each and every purchase shehad made with her shiny, black credit card. He wasn’t mad, exactly, but hedidn’t approve, either. After agreeing that the girls hadn’t purchased anythingthat was above their age groups, he sent them upstairs.

Affonso then went through Emma’s purchases. One by one.And he made her model them one at a time until he was satisfied.

It was degrading on a whole new level for Emma.Sleeping with Affonso was one thing. She was his wife, and the best she coulddo was grit her teeth, do what he asked in the bedroom, and go on with her day.If she did that, then he left her alone.

But to be paraded in front of him like he owned her,for his amusement and pleasure, was something entirely different from havingsex with the man. It made her feel far dirtier than even sucking his cock did.

It made her feel like a toy.

His toy.

“Where have you gone?” Affonso asked.

Emma fell out of her thoughts with a fake smile.“Right here with you.”

“You were staring at the clock, Emma.”

“Checking the time. I’m getting tired.”

Affonso’s palm rested against her flat stomach with agentle touch as he murmured, “You can go up to bed, if you’d like.”

She wished his touch didn’t feel as heavy as it did.Like it was a weight resting on her stomach, reminding her of the duty andpromises she had been given when he married her.

A child.

That’s what Affonso wanted.

A boy, specifically.

The pregnancy did little but make Emma anxious andsick all at the same time. She hadn’t wanted the dinner tonight, or theannouncement. Affonso, without her agreement, decided to go ahead and tell hisfamily and friends of the upcoming birth.

It was too soon.