She turned her head just enough to meet my eyes. Her gaze was sharp, wounded, furious. “What do you expect, huh?”
“I expect you to trust me.”
“How can I trust you?” She pulled her wrist free, her skin slipping through my fingers like water. “You didn’t warn me. You didn’t prepare me. You just threw me to the wolves because you needed to prove something to him, and expected me to survive.”
“Zara—”
“I just want to go to bed,” she said, stepping outside as I followed, reaching for her hand. For one moment—one brief, fragile moment—her fingers curled around mine.
Then she slid her hand out of my grip, letting it fall to her side. She didn’t look back.
The drive back to the penthouse was tense. She stared out the window, arms folded, jaw clenched. I gripped the wheel, knuckles white. Not even the McLarens’ relentless power did anything to steady my nerves.
I wanted to reach out to her. To grab her arm, pull her close, make her see how desperate I was for her to believe I hadn’t planned any of it. My father showing up was no more than a cruel coincidence.
But I didn’t. Because I knew she’d pull away.
“Zara.”
She ignored me.
“Zara.”
She reached the bedroom door and tried to close it behind her, but I was faster. My hand caught the edge, shoving it open.
“Get away from me,” she hissed.
“Stop running.”
“I’m not running. I’m leaving.” Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “I can’t be a pawn in your efforts to win your father’s approval. I can’t do this.”
“It’s not a game.”
“It’s always a game with people like you.” She shook her head, stepping back. “I should have known. I should have walked away the moment you slipped that tracking device into my phone.”
“Zara, listen?—”
“No. You listen.” She pointed a trembling finger at my chest. “I signed a contract. I said, ‘I do.’ But that doesn’t mean I trust you. That doesn’t mean I owe you anything.”
Something dark snapped inside me.
“You owe me everything.” My voice came out low, dangerous. “You’re my wife. You live under my roof. You eat at my table. You wear my name.”
“And you think that gives you the right to control me?”
“I think it gives me the right to keep you safe.”
“Safe?” she laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You’re suffocating me.”
She reached for the door again, but I caught her wrist. Not hard. Just enough to hold her in place.
“Let go of me.”
“Stop pushing me away.”
“I’m not pushing?—”
“You are.” I stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat of her body, to see the pulse fluttering at her throat. “You’re building walls. Putting distance between us. And I won’t let you.”
