“I think I’m off to a fantastic start. Lucas had what was mine.”
“And what was yours?” I challenged, my eyebrow raised. “A death wish?”
He chuckled. A part of me missed that sound. “Maybe. But mostly, he had you.”
“I am not yours to have.”
The man gave me high blood pressure. He was dangerous. Being with him would do nothing but cause problems. What would I do with him?
“You are.”
Max’s impulses only made my life more complicated. Lucas still lay in the apartment. His eyes and his mouth were likely still open too. The image flashed before my mind again, sending a wave of nausea crashing over me. I couldn’t go back there. The stale air, the metallic tang of blood—it had already started to cling to everything.
I didn’t know how to deal with any of this.
“I want to talk to my father about this.”
He would know how to help me. Maybe he could offer Max money to leave me alone.
Max offered a nod. “I figured that. Sean will be here in about five minutes. He’ll drive you to your father’s.”
Sean?I hadn’t seen him in months. I froze. “You’re letting me go?”
“Yes.” If he was letting me go, that only meant he was sure I’d come back. “I’ll pick you up tonight, and I expect you to have a few bags packed.”
“Bags packed? For what?”
“So that you have clothes to wear while my men move your things into the house.”
My eyes widened in horror.House? Move my things?
“What?No, I’m not moving in with you.”
“Rosalie,” he warned, “understand that you are not in a position to make demands. I am trying to be reasonable with you.”
Reasonable?Was he delusional? He was uprooting my entire life, severing me from everything and everyone I knew.
“Am I going to be your hostage?”
“Hostage? Perhaps not in the traditional sense. But make no mistake, you belong to me now.”
“You have a problem,” I gritted.
“Yeah, I do,” he said, his gaze locking onto mine. “And I’m looking right at her.”
“If I’m such a problem, that probably means you wouldn’t want me as your wife,” I said, testing the waters, grasping at the only straws I had left—which were already slim to none.
“Is that so?” he said. “Too late to turn back now, problem or not.”
I didn’t want anything to do with him. I needed to try to get out of this.
“You wouldn’t want me really,” I said, desperation creeping into my voice. “I-I have commitment issues.”
There was something in his eye, though, that told me he wasn’t amused this time. It was determination. Almost a hidden anger of some sort.
Still, he smiled. “I’m sure you’ll adjust fine.”
“I will run your pocketsdry,” I said with emphasis, trying once more to find something, anything, to turn this man’s obsessive attention elsewhere.
