Page 39 of My Ruthless Husband

Damian grows very still.

I furrow my brows. “What’s wrong?”

In a blink of an eye, he regains his composure and his features resumes their usual stoic mask, revealing his ability to swiftly regain control.

“What’s her full name?” he asks quietly.

I watch him skeptically. “Why do you want to know?”

“Don’t respond to my question with another one.” His voice is sharp.

“I will.”

His eyes darken, the muscle in his jaw jumping.

A tremor runs through me as a chill of fear grips me, but I steel myself. “I won’t tell you her full name. You’ll just use it against me.”

I won’t let him manipulate me with this. Summer is off limits.

“You think you’re in control now?” His voice is low, filled with dark amusement. “You haven’t even begun to understand what it means to defy me.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” I say, though my voice wavers.

“You should be.”

I tremble but bravely respond, “You can keep playing your games, but I won’t let you control every aspect of my life from now on.”

He stalks toward me, and it takes a lot of effort not to run. When he is in front of me, he leans in, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. “But that’s where you’re wrong, angel. You said you won’tlet mecontrol everything, but as far as I remember, I control everything. Including you.”

“Not this time.” I can feel the heat of his body as he towers over me. The tension thick.

“We’ll see.” He states with a dangerous intensity.

“We will.” I jut my chin at him.

Without sparing me another glance, he strides toward the door. “You’ve got ten seconds to be downstairs for brunch.”

“I’m not coming—”

He doesn’t even look back. “If you want your phone, you’ll do as I say.”

I glare at the empty doorway, my teeth clenched in frustration, hating that he’s won this round.

???

Damian is an unpredictable man. He’s like a puzzle, always doing things I can’t quite wrap my head around. In the past, he never forced me to spend time with him. Never demanded my company for meals like he did now. Well, I know he did this to prove who holds all the power here. But still, it’s unsettling.

Just when I thought I had him all figured out, he goes ahead and completely shift the dynamics of the situation.

I don’t for a second believe that he left his important meeting because I refused to eat. He has never done that. Not for my birthday. Not even for our first wedding anniversary. There has to be more to it than meets the eye.

Whatever this is, I can’t afford to make a mistake. I have to tread carefully, which means keeping my mouth shut and following his rules, even if every part of me wants to scream. It’s not like I have a choice. But just because I have to do it doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy.

It takes every ounce of willpower to step out of the guestroom and follow him. The urge to turn around and lock myself in is strong, but I push it aside and keep walking down the stairs.

I pause at the doorway to the dining room, my self-respect faltering at the thought of facing him again. It’s humiliating, this feeling of being treated like a child.

Taking a deep breath, I enter the formal dining area.

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