I could feel her body trembling slightly at my touch.
"You want to go here?" I leaned closer, my breath almost touching her lips. "Iceland?"
She turned her face away, silent.
"Beg me," I whispered in her ear. "Maybe I'll take you."
She whipped her head around, fury blazing in her eyes. "In your dreams."
"Dreams?" I laughed coldly. "Noelle, you need to understand something. From now on, every landscape you see requires my permission."
"You're insane."
"Maybe," I admitted. "But that doesn't matter. What matters is you're my wife. And my wife shouldn't spend her days fantasizing about escape."
"I wasn't—"
I didn't let her finish.
One hand gripped the back of her head, the other caught her chin, forcing her face toward mine as I kissed her hard.
She struggled, pushing against my chest.
I didn't budge.
This kiss carried punishment and a possessiveness I couldn't explain.
I needed her to understand—she belonged to me.
Her body, her soul, even her dreams belonged to me.
Finally, I released her.
She gasped for air, tears pooling in her eyes.
"I hate you." Her voice shook.
"I know." I stood, looking down at her. "But that doesn't matter."
I left the library, leaving her sitting there alone.
An hour before dinner, I had the maid deliver a black silk gown to Noelle.
It was custom-made for her in Paris last week. From the moment I got it, I'd imagined how she'd look wearing it. Tonight, I wanted her at the dinner table in that dress.
Thirty minutes later, I entered her room.
The dress lay untouched on the sofa. She still wore her plain casual clothes, standing at the window watching the snow.
My fury ignited instantly.
"Seems you didn't hear what I said."
She turned, that stubborn expression still on her face.
I approached step by step. She backed up until her back hit the window frame.
I reached out, fingertips catching the hem of her casual dress. "Your drawings today were beautiful. But Noelle, beauty needs the right frame."
