I stomp up to Irvin. He glances down at me. I study his dark goatee and the ink covering his face. His forest-green eyes are predatory, and he has this magnetic pull I used to adore. Now I hate it—I hate him. Lunatic. His black long-sleeve shirt hugs his muscular upper body, and I try not to stare. His presence dominates the room, and it pisses me off even more. Why the fuck does he have this hold on me?
His lean fingers stroke my flushed cheek. He will not pull me back into his orbit. I’m not falling for this shit.
“Where are you going with my stuff?”
His pupils widen as he beams with a smile.
“We’re moving to a beach home.”
I shake my head. “Why?”
“Because we need something secluded and private.”
I don’t believe him. I think he’s trying to have even more control over my life.
“You went behind my back and spoke to Harrison about getting your account unfrozen.” He smirks, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it.
Heat surges under my skin. Is he fucking serious?
“So? I need my own money,” I snap. “So, we’re moving because I went behind your back?” I grit my teeth.
He strokes my cheek, and I step back from him.
I stomp my foot. I’ve had enough of his shit.
“We’re not moving because of that. I have every right to ask to get my account unfrozen, because the key word ismine.I’m not moving with you. You need to get the fuck out of my place! At this point, I don’t care if you stop paying my bills! I’d rather be homeless than be under you!”
I want to wipe that smug look off his fucking face.
He strokes his fingers through my lavender hair. “I’ll never leave you alone.”
That’s what I’m afraid of. He won’t stop until I’m fully stuck in his gilded cage of a marriage.
“I said fucking no, Irvin.”
I try to push past him, but he grabs me by the arms.
“It’s cute that you think you have an option.”
He scoops me into his arms like a newborn baby and carries me out of the building. I bite my lip hard, trying not to lash out at him. I don’t protest or fight because I don’t want to cause a scene. I don’t want to give the college students more to gossip about.
He places me into the beige leather seat, and I don’t argue. I need to find a way to get away from him, but I also know that if I don’t behave, he’ll just shorten his invisible leash on me. We drive for a good fifteen minutes to the other side of campus. These beach homes are for the elite. The mansion that he lived in is the best—only students whose parents are running the American Billionaire Club stay there. I Googled it, and noinformation is available on the club, but there have been a lot of articles about Irvin and the rest of the Gods’ families.
He drives through the campus gates and away from the university, and I watch as campus gets smaller and smaller in the side-view mirror.
“You said we’re going to live in a beach home on campus.”
He places his hand on my knee. I push it away.
“I didn’t say that. I said we’re moving into a beach home.”
His words piss me off. I tap my foot on the floorboard. My anxiety crawls up my throat.
We eventually arrive at a mansion that looks like it’s from the eighteenth century. It holds character, and my breath hitches at the vines molded to the gray cobblestones. The floor-to-ceiling windows shine and give me the heebie-jeebies. The smell of seaweed in the air burns my nostrils. The thought of living here makes me feel as if I have a hand on my throat.
Irvin grabs my hand as I watch workers carry boxes into the mansion.
Once we’re inside, I glance up at the black chandelier. The place is already decorated. The silence in the air is eerie, icy. The gray walls close in on me, and I remove my jacket. Light rain tapping against the windows matches the beat of my heart. Why would Irvin want to live in a spooky place?
