Page 5 of Sweet Conviction

"Self-respect," she says softly.

"What are you talking about, sweetheart?" I ask, genuinely mystified.

"I won't chain myself to a man who clearly wants nothing to do with me, Dalton," she sniffs. "I may be a big girl, but I'm not a charity case. I have more self-respect than to let myself be treated like one just because you look the way you do."

Fucking Christ. She thinks her size is a problem for me? Fuck no. She's perfect. Her curves have me so fucking hard I can't think straight.

But of course she thinks I'm a fucking pretentious asshole who thinks he's too good for her.

I've given her no reason to think otherwise, have I?

Because she's absolutely right. I found out about this marriage contract six weeks ago, but I never once tried to reach out to her. I never picked up the phone. I never went to meet her. I haven't done a fucking thing but fight it. If she's feeling insecure, the only place I need to look to find the reason is in the damn mirror.

I'm an asshole.

"Tempest, I…"

"You don't owe me an explanation. You're allowed to feel the way you feel. But so am I."

"You don't under—"

"I'll tell your grandfather that I decided not to go through with the marriage. I'll ask that he not hold you responsible." Her bottom lip quivers again before she sinks her teeth into it, stilling it.

"Tempest, dammit. Wait!"

"Don't curse at me," she snaps, fire in her eyes.

"Then stop for two seconds, and let me explain!"

"Do you always get what you want?"

"Yes," I grit out.

"Not today, you don't," she retorts, a stubborn tilt to her chin as she strides toward my office door, her sweet curves swaying. "Good luck with your company, Dalton."

Panic seizes me as she shifts to step past me. I grab for her without thinking, my fingers wrapping around her wrist. Sparks shoot through me at the contact, desire hitting me like a punch to the gut.

What the fuck am I doing?

A minute ago, I was looking for a way out of this arranged marriage. Well, here it is. She's giving me an escape route, handing it over on a silver platter. I should be leaping at the chance, not stopping her.

But I can't let her leave like this, not without answers. And everything she just told me is a bunch of bullshit. She isn't doing this because she lacks confidence. It practically fucking drips from her. There's something else; I'd stake my life on it. And I want to know what it is.

But I can't say a single word. Not when I've got my hand on her, and every fucking cell in my body is shooting off sparks, screaming at me to pull her closer and take one little taste.

I see the same desperate hunger reflected back at me in her gorgeous amber eyes. She feels this—the pull. The need. She aches the same fucking way I do right now.

"Tempest…" I start, but I have no idea what to say. How to convince her to stay. "I'm an asshole." It seems like a good place to start.

"I'm aware." She yanks out of my grip, her breath coming hard and fast. I feel the loss of her touch instantly, an icy emptiness seeping through me.

"Tempest, wait."

"Goodbye, Dalton." She practically flees from the room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway as she rushes to the elevator.

I'm left frozen, my hand still outstretched, staring at the empty doorway. What the ever-loving fuck just happened? Did she seriously just throw away her company and her future to keep from marrying me? Yes. Yes, that's exactly what the fuck just happened.

I turn on my heel, determined to go after her and do…something to fix this. I don't know what, considering that she doesn't seem all that willing to let me fix it. But now that I've met her, now that she's stood right in front of me…fucking Christ. I can't let her leave.

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