"Mother… I… I think I’m sick," my voice trembled as I spoke into the phone. "What’s this feeling… when he touches me? My chest feels like it’s about to explode, my stomach twists and flutters in all these… weird ways, and my… my—" "Talk to me, Cassandra," my mother urged softly. "My… between, Mother… it acts up." Before Mother could reply, the phone was ripped out of my hand. A sharp gasp tore through my lips as my back was slammed roughly into the bathroom wall, and my husband stood in front of me—the man who makes me feel these ridiculous things. His hand came to rest just below my chin, those gray eyes of his piercing into my soul. "Why ask her when you can ask me? Now tell me, Dolcezza... what do I do to you?”