“I told you I don’t want to be here,” I mutter, twisting my arm to try and break free.
“Elena,” he warns, voice low.
Not caring, I glare up at him and continue pulling back. “You don’t get to drag me around like this.”
Wyatt’s jaw clenches tighter. “You fought me getting into the car, and now you’re fighting me getting out. I’m starting to see a pattern.”
Keeping my chin lifted, I don’t back down. “I don’t like being ordered around. Especially not by someone whose knee-jerk reaction is to marry a person the moment things go south.”
“Neither do I,” he utters, leaning closer before putting his opposite hand on my shoulder. “Yet, here we are. Move.”
The elevator doors slide open with a soft sound that seems far too polite and polished for the struggle happening between us. With deliberate force, he steers me inside, stepping close enough that I can feel the heat from him against my back.
He’s way too close.
With my free hand, I push against his chest, but he doesn’t budge in the slightest, and something about that pisses me off.
Instead, Wyatt lets go of my elbow and grabs my waist while his fingers span too much of my middle, locking me in place against the elevator wall. His irritated gaze pins me on the spot just as intensely.
“Stop fighting me,” he says quietly, full of warning and control stretched too tight.
He’s much bigger than me, and apparently, far stronger. For those reasons alone, I shouldn’t push my luck, but I’ve neverbeen one to just accept things. Especially not when it involves my autonomy.
So I hold his gaze, refusing to be intimidated. “Or what?”
Wyatt leans in, crowding me with that light scowl. “Or I lose my patience. I don’t recommend it.”
As much as I want to push back against it, everything hidden within those words scares me more. Everything he’s surely capable of and willing to do if push comes to shove.
Still, it sends a bright, unwanted spark through my system. It catches me off guard, but there’s nothing I can do about it.
I hate it. I hate him.
With the doors closed, the elevator begins its ascent, the hum of it vibrating through my bones. While I’m forced to stand with my back against the wall, feeling the scorching heat of his palm against my waist, my eyes catch our reflection in the mirror opposite us.
I see his massive frame boxing me in, my hands gripping the ends of his jacket in an attempt to gain some sort of control, expression defiant and flushed despite myself.
We look both dangerous and ridiculous, and I wrench my focus away before I can let it get to me.
“For someone who claims not to be a monster, you’re doing an exceptional job at acting like one,” I utter.
Wyatt’s grip tightens just a fraction, enough to put pressure on me to behave. “You’re testing too much right now.”
“Good.”
Despite the irritation stitched into his features, Wyatt exhales through his nose. “You’re angry, I get it. But this isn’t helping either of us.”
“Oh, you get it, do you?” I retort, tone bitter. “Regardless of how you want to slice it, you abducted me, too, and you forged a marriage between us based on nothing but your savior complex.”
His gaze darkens. “I didn’t kidnap you.”
“You hauled me to the car like someone would when they’re kidnapping another person.”
“Yeah, out of a warehouse where you were tied to a chair, prepped and primed to be sold off to the highest bidder. What’s your point?” Wyatt asks, testing me with the way he stares at me.
“That doesn’t make it okay!”
An almost uncomfortable beat of silence fills the scant space between us, then his jaw clenches.
