“Societum Rebel? Your full alias, I believe,” Abraham went on. “The one you use to be hired? The one you used when you became a member of theDevil’s Masquerade.”
Ophelia began to tremble uncontrollably as Abraham’s frown drew into a devilish smirk.
“Oh, yes,Miss. Wexley.I knowallabout you,” he said, his quiet tone ebbing with danger.
“What do you want?” She rasped, her mouth suddenly dry.
Abraham’s gaze shifted from her eyes down to her throat, and he reached out, tugging her shawl away to reveal the collar of her dress. Her body shivered with disgust at his touch, but she found herself unable to move.
“I believe you already know what I want,” he stated, tracing a finger over the silver choker sitting right above the collar of her dress. She hated Tristan for what he’d done and said. For what he’d made her feel. Yet despite it all, she had not been able to bring herself to remove the chocker he’d gifted her.
Abraham’s fingers slipped around the tight necklace, and she gasped as he suddenly yanked. The thin chain broke away from her throat with a softsnapand pooled lifelessly into Abraham’s hand.
“Give that back!” She exclaimed, reaching for the choker.
Abraham’s hand was instantly around her wrist in a painful grip; stopping her attempt midair. He shoved it away and stepped closer, leaving no space between them as he gave her an evil glare.
“You will go to your father first thing tomorrow morning,” Abraham explained, pulling the gold necklace he’d tried to give her. He brought it up to neck and fixed the heavy, golden necklace painfully tight around her throat, “You will tell him you have had a change of heart about me.”
Once the necklace was fastened, Abraham smooth his hands down over it, making her stomach clench painfully when his palms lingered just above her breasts.
“And when I call on you next,” he went on, slowly raising his eyes back to hers, “You will accept my proposal.”
Ophelia’s mind and body lurched at the idea. She wanted to fight, wanted to shout and claw and make a scene like she knew she could. But there was something in Abraham’s eyes that made her cower.
“Why?” She managed to whisper. “Why me?”
Abraham shrugged as his smile returned.
“You truly are not as smart as you like to think you are, are you?” He asked, his tone laced with condescension.
He then sighed and shook as his head as he finally took a step away from her and removed his hands.
“That will be good for us in the long run,” he said matter-of-factly, “I had thought it would be difficult to train you into a good wife.”
Ophelia finally broke free of her fear and snatched her broken choker from his hand.
“I will be no such thing to you,” she hissed, then reached up to tear his necklace from her neck.
She barely had her fingers wrapped around the gaudy thing before Abraham’s hand shot up and closed painfully tight around hers.
“Youwill,” he stated, the amusement gone from his eyes. He stepped closer, so close she could feel his hot breath fan across her face and make her shiver with disgust.
“If you want your secrets kept. If you want your father safe. You will.”
Fury and fear burned through Ophelia’s veins, battling one another as she stared into Abraham’s soulless dark eyes.
“You dare threaten my father?” She demanded.
“Oh, I will threateneverypart of your life, Miss Wexley,” Abraham warned, tugging just enough at the necklace to make her sway forward.
“And I make due on my threats. If you do not believe me just say no. You will discover your secrets-andyour friend Lord Darlington’s secrets- will splayed among the sheets of several different newspapers by tomorrow morn.”
Ophelia’s fury died as quickly as it rose; fear sweeping through her completely.
“Say no,” Abraham goaded, tugging at the necklace again. “I dare you.”
He raised a brow, as if baiting her to disobey him.
