The more I push Sienna, the harder it’s going to be for me to get her to soften for me.
The silence stretches, filled only with the tick of the clock on the wall. Her eyes flick toward it like she’s counting down the seconds until she can bolt.
I reach for the carafe of orange juice, pour a glass, and slide it across the table to her.
She doesn’t touch it.
“You think I’m a monster.”
“I don’t think,” she grinds out. “I know.”
I lean back in my chair and let that hang between us.
She’s not wrong. I’ve bled men dry, crushed their throats with my bare hands, and made examples of anyone stupid enough to cross me.
My empire wasn’t built on kindness.
It was built on fear, respect, and the bones of enemies.
If that makes me a monster, then fine. I’ll wear it.
But with her?
I want to be something else. Something that doesn’t make her look at the clock like she’s begging time to run faster.
“Monsters don’t offer breakfast.” Her eyes finally cut to mine, not buying or giving a shit about breakfast or anything to do with it. “After work, take your friend Lucy with you shopping. There’ll be a car waiting.”
“For what?”
“For my future wife.” I hold her stare, and she appears like she’d rather make me choke on the piece of toast residing in her hand than take anything I’d give her.
“I’ll pass.”
“There’s always a choice. But you’re too smart to run without thinking, too loyal to abandon the people you care about, and toodamn stubborn to admit you’re in deeper than you can handle. So here you are. With me.”
“And why is that, Ben? Because you didn’t threaten to kill my father? Is that how you sleep at night?”
“No,” I answer honestly. “It’s the knowing that you’re going to be my wife. And that I’ll have a son.”
That earns me a glare.
“It’s going to be a very long five years for you, Benedikt,” she grinds out. “Am I free to go? Or do I need your permission every time I leave the house?”
I tap my cheek like an asshole. “Kiss first, princess.”
“Is that an order?”
I want it to be.
But, again, forcing my soon-to-be wife…is not going to play in my favor if I keep pissing her off.
“No,” I drone, even though my brain demands I command her to do it. “I just thought you could use the practice.”
She scoffs and tosses the toast aimlessly on the table. “Have a good day making everyone else miserable, Benedikt.”
The sound of her footsteps carries through the house until the front door shuts. I’m left alone with a table full of food, my jaw tight enough to crack.
She got the last word again, and I let her.
