Page 46 of Theirs to Tempt: The Marriage Claim

His eyes are as dark as they are unreadable. “So says I.”

We return to the main living area to find the table has been set with gleaming silver and crystal glasses that catch the low light from the chandelier.

Shocking me, they seat me at the head of the table, with Lucian and Caleb taking chairs directly across from each other.

There’s no subtlety here. I’m wedged between them.

Chef Amélie flames the duck breast right before us, the cherry reduction bubbling, fragrant and rich, then plates each portion with delicate swirls of sauce and fresh herbs.

I sigh.

If only my father had come to me years ago, instead of drinking and sitting at the poker table, we could have sorted the finances together, working the numbers.

Instead, he recklessly sold me to men I’d never give the time of day to under normal circumstances.

At the end of the meal, the chef clears the last plates and leaves us with coffee.

The city lights sparkle beyond the glass, but now that we’re alone, the room feels smaller, intimate in a way that makes my skin prickle with awareness.

Lucian leans back in his chair, the movement casual yet commanding, and his gaze darkens as it settles on me. “You are dessert tonight.”

My cup clatters against the saucer as shock ripples through me, making my cheeks flame.

“We want a preview of our wedding night.” Caleb’s rougher, lower voice slides down my spine like a caress that leaves me breathless.

Lucian’s tone remains velvet over steel. “Stand up for us, Sophie.”

“No.” I dig my fingers into the edge of the table.

“It wasn’t a request. We will see what belongs to us.”

I’ve already felt their hands on me, their mouths claiming mine, but this—this deliberate exposure in the bright light of their dining room—feels more vulnerable, more real.

Their eyes hold mine, unyielding, waiting.

“Do as I say, Sophie.”

I can’t. I just…can’t.

After an interminable amount of time, and my tension ratcheting higher and higher, he speaks, softly, so softly that he terrifies me.

“I’m happy to help you.”

I shiver.

“For a price.”

For a moment, I squeeze my eyes shut.

He pushes his chair back, the sound screaming in the silence.

“Wait!”

Steepling his hands, he regards me.

Shaking harder than I ever have in my life, I leverage the table to help me stand.

“Good girl.”