Page 61 of Bad Little Bride

“And?”

“He said it was irrelevant.”

“And?” he pushes.

“And I disagree,” I answer honestly. “I deserved to know.”

“You want me to believe you just so happened to take your ring off when you got home after learning what you did tonight?”

“I don’t care what you believe, Enzo. Your thoughts mean exactly jack shit to me.”

Enzo’s jaw tics, his fists clenching at his sides. He continues to stare straight into my eyes, this fiery force in his I can’t quiteread, one that seems to demand I put his mind at ease when really, I want to shove his tie in his mouth and watch him choke on it.

“I can’t wear a ring when I dance.”

“That’s not going to work for me.”

“That’s a you problem that needs fixing.” I throw his words back at him. “As much as you clearly plan to control me, you can’t make me wear the damn ring when you’re not around.”

“I can and I will. Why?” He pushes closer. “Because you are mine and every second of every day, there will be a reminder of that fact staring back at you,” he promises.

I close my eyes, wanting to scream and cry and tear his eyes out.

Revenaws aren’t supposed to cry, not even at our mother’s funeral when we were eight years old.

My mother was murdered.

I flinch when a warm palm meets my cheek, my lids flying open.

His hazel eyes lock on mine. “You came to me and asked me to marry you.”

“As if I could forget.”

“I did what you asked.” He frowns. “Gave you what you said you wanted.”

“Thanks?” When he simply stares, I lift a shoulder in a lazy shrug. “I answered your questions. The interrogation is over, so why are you still standing here? What else do you want?”

“I want you to act like the girl I met that day on the island.”

A small scowl builds across my face, his words unexpected.

“She was determined to stand where you do,” he adds.

“She was a desperate daughter looking for a secure future she could control so down the line she wasn’t stuck with a third-rate asshole,” I counter.

“Third rate?” he muses, anger and…is that disappointment in his gaze? “Was I not your first choice, Little Bride?”

“No.”

His muscles freeze. “No?”

“No, Enzo.” I shake my head. “You weren’t my first choice.” His glare is heavy, deepening as my lips curve with a pitiful smile born of shame and an unshakable sense of regret. “You were my only choice.”

Something sweeps over Enzo then, his gaze piercing mine. “What if I said the same?”

“You’d be lying.”

“Says you.”

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