Page 26 of Prized Possession

At the mention of my engagement, the smirk on Marcus’ face disappears and his gaze narrows. His hands, that were resting on the table, are now balled into fists, and he looks seconds away from losing his temper, which is very unlike Marcus. He’s usually in complete control, devoid of any real emotion.

My dad lets out a huff beside me. “We will still honour the marriageagreement, we will just ask them to delay it by a couple of weeks. I’m sure we can come up with an adequate excuse.”

Now it’s my turn to get mad. “Maybe Scott won’t want to marry me when he finds out we’re delaying the wedding because you’re whoring me out for sixty days to our rival family.”

Jacob slams his fist down onto the table, startling me. His eyes are wide but fierce. “You are not being whored out. This agreement is not sexual…I made sure of that.”

“Oh, well, if you made sure it’s not sexual, I don’t know what I’m worried about,” I reply sarcastically, ignoring Marcus’ chuckle.

“Well, I won’t say no if you ask nicely.”

He ends his cocky comeback with a wink—a fucking wink. We’re going to pretend it sent fury rippling through my veins, instead of a completely different feeling. I hate the way he can heat me up from the inside out with just one look, especially when he’s not even trying.

This time my dad slams his fist on the table, startling us all. “Don’t even fucking think about it, Morelli,” Dad growls, leaning towards Marcus in a threatening way.

Despite Dad being the elder, Marcus doesn’t answer to him the way we do, and he doesn’t cower under the weight of his glare. He maintains eye contact, looking utterly bored by the whole situation.

Fuck, he’s going to have to teach me to stand up to my dad like that.

Marcus shrugs his shoulders like he doesn’t give a shit, and he’s never looked fucking hotter.God, I hate myself right now.

“So if this isn’t a sex thing, what the hell is it?” I don’t aim the question at anyone in particular, and we all seem to wait for someone to answer.

Jacob reaches over and takes my hand in his. “I’m so sorry, Clo.”

I want to pull away, but I hate how sad my brother looks. I think he’s finally realising the consequences of his actions. It’s just too bad I’m the casualty.

“No matter what Mr Morelli’s motives are, as you well know, the bets made at their stupid poker nights are binding. As part of the peace treaty between our two families, if we break this agreement, it will be seen as an act of war on our part. I’ve tried to discuss altering the terms, but Mr Morelli is not amenable. So the bet stands,” my dad says through gritted teeth as he glares at Marcus.

“What does this mean for me?” I hate how fucking small my voice sounds.

Dad looks like he’s going to answer, but Marcus cuts in. “I’ll give you tonight to sort yourself out, and tell your fiancé. I’ll be back at nine in the morning to take you to my apartment. Bring what you want, but I’ll happily supply anything you need. Your sixty days with me will begin tomorrow.”

The smile he gives me is dripping with sin, and I have no fucking clue what to say.

“You’re really not going to change your mind, are you?” Jake asks Marcus, sounding so fucking desperate it leaves a pang in my stomach.

Marcus slowly shakes his head, but he doesn’t say anything. Jake gets up so quickly his chair slams backwards onto the floor. Without a word, my brother sweeps out of the room in a huff, slamming the door behind him.

I look over at my dad, who has his eyes pinched closed, like we’re just annoying children who are interfering in his day, giving him a headache. “Well, I think this meeting is over,” he says, pointing at the door.

The look he gives me tells me there’s no room for discussion. Once again, decisions have been made on my behalf, and I’m just expected to fucking go along with them. Control has always been a fucking illusion to me.

Without a word, I get up and walk out of the room, very aware that Marcus is following me. I hear him slam the door, but I’m too busy stomping down the corridor, desperate to get away from him.

I trusted him to help me, and instead he goes and fucking does this. What the hell?

My anger is sizzling away under the surface, and I’m desperate to get to my room so I can let it loose. Suddenly, his hand grips my arm, and he spins me until my back hits the wall. Before I know it, we’re in the same position as in the alley, his body pressing me up against a wall.

I try to avoid meeting his gaze, not trusting myself. He leans in until his breath is fanning my face, and his voice tickles at my ear. “Aren’t you going to thank me?”

I splutter, my eyes widening as my nerve endings prickle with rage. “Thank you? Why the fuck would I thank you?”

He takes a small step back so he can meet my gaze, and he looks genuinely confused by my outburst. “You asked me to buy you time, and that’s exactly what I’ve done. You have around eight weeks away from your fiancé. In that time, I’m sure we can come up with something to make it more permanent.”

“You made me your whore. You said you own me,” I seethe, genuinely confused how he can’t see what’s wrong with that.

“I said I own you, not that you’re my whore. As I told you the other night, if you choose to be my slut, that’s your choice. I’d never force you.” His voice is dripping with sincerity, and my brain is spinning.

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