Not because she earned it, but because I’m trying not to strangle what little chance I have at breaking through that wall of hers.
I drain the rest of my coffee and reach for my phone, needing a distraction before I start pacing like a caged animal. The screen lights up with an incoming call—Dahlia, the interior designer I hired.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Volkov,” she greets, her voice smooth and professional. “Is this a good time?”
I wish I were busier at the present time, but I’m not.
“What can I do for you, Miss Mitchell?”
“I’d like to go over some preliminary plans for the bakery you commissioned. When’s a good time for us to meet?”
The bakery.
Her bakery.
My chest tightens with the thought of Sienna seeing it, walking inside something I built for her future. She’ll probably spit in my face, accuse me of bribery to keep her distracted, but I don’t care.
She’s getting it whether she wants it or not.
“Tomorrow,” I answer. “Are you available for dinner?”
“Of course,” she coos. “I can make the reservations?—”
“I’ll handle the place, Miss Mitchell. My fiance is picky with…places.”
“Oh.” She’s silent for a few seconds before she says, “Of course. I’d love to meet her.”
“I’ll text you the details and time. Have a good morning, Miss Mitchell.”
“You too?—”
I hang up, sliding the phone on the table.
Fiancée.
The word tastes bitter and sweet all at once.
She hates me, but I’m building her a world anyway. And if that makes me a monster, then fine, I’ll be the kind of monster who gives her everything she never asked for and dares her to hate me for it.
I sit there in the silence after the call, staring at the abandoned toast she left behind. Her words from last night dig their claws into me again.
Because it’s going to start feeling like rape.
I’ve had bullets graze me, knives dig into my flesh, and broken ribs that took weeks to heal, but none of it touched me the way that word did coming out of her mouth.
It made me hesitate.
It made me think.
And I hate that.
She doesn’t understand that I didn’t chain her here because I get off on breaking someone.
I chained her here because she’s the only damn thing I want that doesn’t rot me from the inside out.
But how the fuck do I explain that when all she sees is a man who forced her here?
