Page 158 of Heartless Sinner

He focused on removing his cuff links. One. Then the other. He crossed to the oak dresser and dropped them onto a small tray with a metallic clink.

“My father and hers spoke to me earlier tonight.” He leaned back against the dresser and stretched out his long legs in front of him. “Before I came in here and told you to get dressed for the club.”

I didn’t like how he wouldn’t look at me.

Whatever came next, he didn’t want to watch me hear it.

“They’re arranging for Rachel and me to marry after graduation.”

Something ugly twisted in my stomach. “Oh,” I whispered.

He rubbed the spot over the empty spot on his cuff. “I needed her to understand I’d make a terrible husband. That’s why we went to the club.”

I scooted farther onto the bed and crossed my legs. “She’s hot.”

He nodded. “She is.”

I frowned.

He could’ve at least pretended to think about it.

“She’s also very rich,” I added.

“Yeah …”

“Comes from a reputable family.”

“She does.”

I started counting Rachel’s qualifications on my fingers. “Hot. Rich. Politically useful. Daddy-approved.” I dropped my hand. “You basically hit the future-president-wife jackpot. Why wouldn’t you want to marry her?”

His head finally lifted. The humor was gone from his sharp features, his expression suddenly too controlled.

“Because …” He dragged his tongue across the inside of his cheek, like the words physically pissed him off. “For some fucked-up reason, I don’t want anyone but you.”

My heart slammed into my ribs.

He pushed away from the dresser.

One step. Two. Until he was standing in front of me.

I should’ve moved back. Instead, I moved closer.

He framed my face with his cold hands, forcing me to look at him, making it impossible to pretend I hadn’t heard his words.

“No matter how hard I want to rip off the fucking chain you wrapped around me, I can’t. You own me in every way, Daphne.”

I broke first and looked away. Looking at him hurt too much.

The words I wanted to say crowded my throat. You own me too.

Fear kept them there.

A future with anyone but Brooks sounded like hell.

Whenever I imagined my wedding day, it was never some prince waiting for me at the altar. It was him.

Sometimes, we were in a castle. Sometimes, the White House. Sometimes, Saint Vale.