Relief hits so fast it’s dizzying.
But he steps closer again, lowering his voice. “I have no interest in forcing a woman to fuck me.” His hand reaches out, pushing a piece of my hair off my face.
“You promised no touching.”
“I promised no touching,” he retorts. “But it’s a conditional agreement.”
“Conditional on what?”
“Your obedience.”
I go still. “I’m not your pet.”
“No,” he says softly. “Pets get affection.”
I want to slap him. Maybe kill him. I definitely want to run. But I’m smarter than that, so I do none of those things.
I lift my chin. “Separate bedrooms. No touching. No . . . anything.”
“Anything?” he echoes, amused.
“Yes. Anything.”
He studies my face a moment too long. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m exhausted.”
“You’re scared.”
I glare. “Shut up.”
He steps closer, lips curling. “Adorable.”
Anger flares bright in my chest. “Why are you doing this to me? Why did you want to marry me?”
He leans in, mouth brushing my temple—a ghost of a touch that feels nothing like affection.
“This isn’t a marriage,” he whispers. “It’s a reckoning.”
My chest tightens. “You hate me that much?”
“Oh, Little Bird,” he taunts, “you have no idea.”
His fingers close lightly around my wrist, not hard, not tender, just deliberate. He guides me up the stairs and down a shadowed hallway lined with dark wood.
He stops before a door and then swings it open.
A bedroom comes into view. One with soft lighting, cream bedding, and huge windows overlooking the forest. It’s beautiful.At least it’s a pretty cage.
“This is yours,” he says.
I take a shaky breath. “And yours?”
“Down the hall.”
I nod slowly, tension bleeding from my shoulders. “Good.”
He watches the relief wash over me, and something shifts in his expression. In the past, I would have been able to read his expressions, but I don’t know this version of Lorenzo.
