“So you know everything there is to know about my business and how it operates?”
I expect her to grab something, throw it, start to fight me and then tell me I am a monster. Instead she keeps her feet firmly on the floor in front of my desk and holds my gaze with the anger of a hundred warriors.
“Touché.” She sets the silk down on the desk and crosses her arms over her chest, her chin lifting with a defiance I have cometo recognize as purely Persia. “But why in hell would I walk out of one cage just to step into another? You're asking me to do exactly what my father wanted. Be a broodmare for a powerful man. Only you are adding in my body for protection.”
The accusation lands like a blow to the solar plexus, driving the air from my lungs in a rush of understanding. She is right. Of course she is right. I am no better than Barret Fiore, no better than Magnus Sterling, no better than any of the men who have tried to own her.
I am a fucking bastard through and through.
But I cannot let her go. Not after holding her every night, smelling her scent the second I step into the pent house. Not after knowing she exists in this world. I can not let another man ever know the softness of her touch or the sweetness of her irresistible kisses.
And I sure the fuck can’t let her go when Magnus has proven he will stop at nothing to get her back. Not when my father looms in the shadows like a guillotine over everything I have built. Not when every night I spend holding her makes it harder to imagine a future where she is not there.
I take a step back, giving her space, giving her the illusion of choice even though we both know she has none.
Something shifts in her expression. Fear hardens into fury, and I watch the transformation with a fascination that borders on reverence. This is the fire I knew she had inside her. This is the woman who tore apart her own dress to make sure she didn’t end up letting someone else control her future. And I have the privilege of watching that same tenacity rise to the surface rightnow. Only this time she has no escape. I am the knight she needs whether she wants to accept the truth or not.
Her hair has tumbled free of the braid she had. The soft curls of her violet hair play over her flushed cheeks. She’s lucious and so fucking kissable right now that it takes all of my will power to stay on this side of the desk.
I can see her intent before she moves a muscle.
“Don’t do it, Persia,” I warn.
She flicks my warning away and spins on her heel. She is nearly across the office before I hit the electronic lock on the door. It silently snicks into place at the same time she twists the handle, trapping her inside with me.
She whirls around, Her nostrils flare with fury, and she is beautiful.
“Let me out.” Her voice shakes with rage.
I slowly shake my head. “No.”
I round my desk and stand in front of her.
She has a lot of fight in her, but the fear driving her is what has my attention. She masks it well, but my inner monsters can smell the sweetness of it all the same. It’s like pure sugar to the senses and drives my need to taste her on my tongue up a couple of notches.
She hammers her fist on the solid oak door, but it’s not going anywhere.
She spins to face me just as I step into her space and put my nose level with hers.
Years of experience should have told me what was coming. Her palm connects with my cheek in a slap that echoes through the darkened office like a gunshot. The impact snaps my head to the side and leaves a stinging heat blooming across my skin.
I turn back to her slowly, letting a grin spread across my face that probably makes me look unhinged. “There she is.” I reach up and touch my cheek where her handprint is no doubt forming, savoring the burn. “There’s my little hellcat.”
Her chest heaves with rapid breaths, her eyes blazing with a fury that makes her look like an avenging goddess. “Don't you dare smile at me like that. You just told me you want to use me as a baby factory and you’re smiling?”
“I’m smiling because for two weeks I've watched you be sweet and accommodating and grateful, and I've been waiting for the woman who kneed a man in the balls at her own engagement party to show up.” I step closer, crowding her against the door until her back presses flat against the wood. “That woman is magnificent. That woman survived her father’s abuse and Magnus Sterling’s threats and a fucking assassination attempt today. That woman doesn't need me to protect her. She needs me to get out of her way."
“Then get out of my way.” Her voice is barely above a whisper now, but it carries more steel than a shouted command.
“I can't.” The admission costs me everything. “God help me, Persia, I can't. I have spent two weeks trying to convince myself to let you go, to find another solution, to be something other than exactly what your father was. And every night I hold you and every morning I leave you and every hour in between I think about you and I cannot let you go.”
“Why not?”
Because you are the first person in my entire life who wanted to cook me dinner just to say thank you. The words come to me broken, raw, nothing like the controlled man I have spent decades becoming. Because you hugged my brothers after they saved your life like they were friends instead of hired muscle. Because you asked about my mother and actually wanted to know the answer. Because when I hold you at night, I sleep better than I have since I was twelve years old.
I share none of them and instead tell her, “Because you owe me for a wish granted and I am ready to collect.”
The fury in her eyes flickers, shifts, becomes something else entirely.
