He closed the distance between us in two strides, irritation radiating off him.
"Gabriella, are you done with this tantrum?"
He said it in that particular tone of his — the one designed to cut.
"Millicent is the company's biggest earner. Funneling resources her way is an investment in our future."
"You're a kept woman who doesn't work. Who exactly are you wearing a gown like this for?"
The entitlement in his voice hit me like a slap.
Five years. Five years of everything I'd given, and in his eyes, it amounted to who are you wearing it for.
I drew a slow breath. My nails dug into my palms.
"Dominic, this gown was made to my measurements. I waited six months for it."
"You decided to lend it out. Did you once ask what I thought?"
He scoffed, utterly dismissive.
"Ask what you thought?"
He stepped closer, his presence bearing down on me.
"This gown cost three million dollars. I paid for it."
"The clothes on your back, the things you use every day — name one thing that didn't come from me."
"And now you want to talk about your opinion?"
His finger jabbed hard into my shoulder.
"Gabriella, learn some gratitude."
"Just because I've indulged you doesn't mean you get to pull stunts like this."