“Thirty seconds.”
“Stop counting,” I snapped. “I can't think with you standing there like some kind of... of...”
“Twenty seconds.”
Feeling trapped, I pressed my palms against my eyes. Marriage to Rafe de Luca. The man who'd been a thorny presence in my life since Everlee married Liam. The man who looked at me like he could see straight through me, who called me Cecelia in that way that made my skin prickle. The man who'd just carried me out of a club over his shoulder like a caveman.
“Ten seconds.”
“Yes,” I finally whispered, praying I hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of my life.
Chapter 3
Cece
For one, two breaths, Rafe stood perfectly still, like a predator who couldn't believe its prey had actually walked into the trap. Then his lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes, and I immediately knew I'd made a terrible mistake.
“Pack your things,” he said all businesslike. “We're leaving. Now.”
“Wh-what,” I stammered. “Now? As in right now?”
“Yes, now.” He glanced around my apartment with thinly veiled disdain. “Only essentials. The rest can be dealt with later.”
“You can't be serious.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I just agreed to your insane proposal thirty seconds ago, and you already expect me to—”
“I don't trust you not to run,” he interrupted. “So yes, you're coming with me. Tonight.”
Something inside me snapped. The fear, the humiliation, and the trapped feeling of the past few hours crystallized into white-hot rage.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” I stepped toward him, hands balling into fists at my sides. “You barge into my life, dragme out of a club like some kind of neanderthal, blackmail me into agreeing to marry you, and now you're what… kidnapping me?”
Rafe didn't flinch. If anything, my outburst seemed to amuse him. “It's not kidnapping when you agreed to it, Cecelia.”
“I agreed to a marriage arrangement, not to be hauled out of my apartment in the middle of the night.” My voice rose with each word. “You don't get to dictate my every move just because you wrote a check.”
“Actually, that's exactly what I get to do.” He took a step closer, his height forcing me to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. “The moment you said yes, you became my responsibility. And I take my responsibilities very seriously.”
I jabbed a finger into his chest, ignoring how solid it felt beneath my touch. “I am not your responsibility. I'm not a child or a pet or a… a possession for you to claim.”
“Aren't you?” He caught my wrist, his grip firm but not painful. “You sold yourself to Santiago. I just bought the contract.”
Fury bubbling through my veins, I yanked my arm free.
“I didn't sell myself to anyone. I made a business arrangement to clear a debt. Which, by the way, is exactly what you're proposing we do with this sham of a marriage.” Refusing to be the first to look away, I forced myself to hold his gaze. “If I'm just a transaction to you, then fine. But don't pretend this is about my welfare.”
“You have no idea what this is about.” His voice dropped dangerously low. “You think Santiago would have stopped at dancing? Men like him see women like you as commodities, Cecelia. Assets to be leveraged. How long before dancing wasn't enough to cover the interest on your debt?”
The truth in his words made my stomach turn, but I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction. “I would have figured something out.”
“Like you figured out everything else?” He gestured around my apartment, at the stack of bills, the rejection letters. “How's that working out for you?”
“Fuck you.” The words came out as a whisper instead of the shout I'd intended.
“Not part of our arrangement.” His smile was cold. “Yet.”
I slapped him before I realized what I was doing.
The crack of my palm against his cheek echoed in the small apartment. For one terrifying second, I thought he might retaliate. Instead, he moved with startling speed, backing me against the wall while one hand pressed flat against the peeling paint beside my head.
