Since we sat down, he's suggested I not put butter on my bread, told the waiter to replace the breaded chicken on my salad with grilled chicken, decided I was having sparkling water instead of alcohol, and commented on how full I look.
“For someone who professes love and wants to marry me, your criticism has reached new bounds, Marcus.” Ifeelthe iron in my voice.
The man brought me a skinny latte made with skim milk this morning. Skim milk. In alatte. Atravesty.
I sniff and look away from him because this food looks terrible, and I'm starting to wonder what I ever fucking saw in Marcus Crowning.
My phone buzzes with a text, and my heart soars, but then—it’s just my mother.
I look away. I agreed to marry Marcus because he has the ability to put my mother and me in a much better position—and because my mother wanted me to, and I owe her everything for what she’ssacrificed.
I reasoned I would never find a more eligible suitor than a Crowning.
I’m doing it forher.I’ve seen how she struggled after my father’s passing.
“So, how have things been with you since I've been gone?” I ask, trying to make conversation.
“Fine,” he says. “Business as usual.” He gives me a cold smile that doesn't reach his eyes. “I made some further arrangements for the wedding. But I missed you.”
He leans across the table and squeezes my hand. A cold, unpleasant shiver rolls down my spine.
I never remember feeling like this with him before.
How deep did Ashland's conditioning of me go?
“Stop picking at your nails, Bianca.”
I jump and look down. I didn't even realize I was.
“Are you angry with me?” I ask, angry withhimfor treating me this way.
“Angry with you?” he says, his full lips turned downward. “Of course not, darling. Why would you get that idea?”
“You just seem short-tempered.”
“I'm worried,” he says, again smiling, but it’s cold. “You must promise me, though, that you willneverdo anything like that again.”
His voice is a quiet threat as he reaches across the table, and his fingers encircle my wrist. It's painful, and I wince. When I try to pull away, he pulls harder.
“Listen to me, Bianca.” His voice drops even lower. “You came very close to making me look bad with your little tantrum.”
“I didn't have a?—”
“I'm speaking,” he snaps. “You will not interrupt me.”
How could I have allowed myself to be engaged to this man?
How can I do it now?
Everything Ashland told me is running through my mind.
He's going to kill you, Bianca. It's what he does.
I lift my chin and take a deep breath.
“Have you ever been married before, Marcus?”
“What?” he says, too late, too slow, caught off guard.
