Shooting up, we get in each other’s faces, both of us breathing heavily as the air between us thickens, the tension suffocating.
“To get that, you would have to let me between your legs first, but you’re too busy mourning your dead fiancé,” I snap, gnashing my teeth not to lose my damn sanity.
She pushes at my chest, hard, but I remain unmovable. “Don’t, Vian.”
I pin her with a hard look just to hide my sorrow. “Fulfill your duty, Zara. Forget about him. Remember, he can keep your heart, but your body is mine.”
“Such a gentleman,” she mumbles.
I grip her hands, caressing her palms to hold on to her while despair spreads its talons around me, sharp claws poking holes into my being. “Stop hiding. I don’t buy the act. You’re too afraid to see what lies between us. Be wild with me. I won’t judge.”
For a second, her eyes soften, looking at me just like in the past, like I am crazy, but she’ll be crazy with me. Then hardness replaces it. She pulls her hands away, taking a step back. “I will head home.”
I drag a hand down my face, the fight leaving me. “This is home.” At least I hope it will be now that we’re together.
“Not for me.” She storms away, creating a path of ashes behind her, leaving me to inhale the smoke of dead promises.
Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to go like this. It’s the first day of us being married, and I am failing spectacularly.
At the elevator, I catch up with her, and curling my hand around her elbow, I spin her around. “It would look bad.”
I can’t believe I uttered that nonsense, and she huffs, letting me believe she thinks the same.
“I don’t want you to leave,” I confess, not caring that I sound weak.
She jerks her chin at me, yanking her arm away. “So what? Are you going to force me to stay?”
I shove my hands into my pockets not to maul her, conjuring my least threatening voice. “No. But I would very much welcome it if you’d stay. Of your own accord.”
She crosses her arms, staring me down. “No.”
6
ZARA
It’s been one week since I returned home. My initial anger at him has grown into full-blown rage, but I channeled my frustration productively, sealing two deals.
Who does this man think he is? And why do I react so strongly to him?I am distraught—mentally and emotionally all over the place.
Marrying him was a mistake.
Am I even married if we didn’t consummate our wedding?It’s irrelevant. I’ve made a deal with the devil, and it’s too late to withdraw from the bargain sealing my fate.
Locked inside the indoor shooting range, I retrieve a Glock from the shelf behind me and aim at the man-shaped target, imagining him. Firing at the image, I riddle the center with bullets until my chest heaves with heavy exhales.
Vian hasn’t even texted, which has worsened my state. Sadly for me, I crave his attention, but having it confuses me––two opposing forces ripping me apart.
Conrad leans against the cement column by my side, silent as I expel my restless energy.
“What?” I shout as we are both wearing ear protection, redirecting my anger at the wrong person.
He’s about to say something, but I unload another magazine into the target—one pop after another exploding in a deafening storm, echoing with the eerie silence of death. Bullets rip the paper apart, scattering pieces like confetti on the floor, just like my sanity.
“Another one?” he asks, and I offer a strained nod, not understanding what is happening to me. This virtual stranger has so much power over me it’s unnerving.
He sets another target as he informs me about a massive order from the government.
My business flourishes, and I take extreme pride in being the only woman in this business, ignoring the implications of what my guns do, leaning into the cognitive dissonance.
