Page 25 of The Chains that Bind
"That's not the point," she argues, though her voice lacks some conviction. "The point is you keep making these unilateral decisions about my life without consulting me. That's exactly why we couldn't work before, Knox. Why we can't work now."
I reach for her, unsurprised when she steps back. "We couldn't work before because you ran away instead of facing the intensity of what we have," I correct her. "We can work now because circumstances have changed. Because there's more at stake than just your fear or my need to protect what's mine."
"The baby," she says softly, one hand drifting to her stomach in that unconsciously protective gesture that makes something primal twist inside me. "That's all this is about, isn't it? You want to ensure you have control over your child."
"Our child," I correct, stepping closer, not allowing her retreat this time. "And no, that's not all this is about. It's about us, Seraphina. It's about finishing what we started three years ago. About building the life we were always meant to have together."
She looks up at me, those green eyes searching my face for something—sincerity, perhaps, or the manipulation she's convinced herself governs all my actions.
"How can you be so certain?" she asks, genuine confusion in her voice. "How can you have no doubts when everything between us has been so volatile, so complicated?"
I cup her face in my hands, forcing her to maintain eye contact. "Because some things you just know, angel. From the moment I saw you across that gallery three years ago, I knew you were mine. Every moment since then—even the eighteen months you tried to deny it—has just confirmed what I already knew."
She doesn't pull away from my touch, which I count as progress. "And what if you're wrong? What if we destroy each other and our child in the process?"
"Not possible," I state with absolute certainty. "What's between us isn't destructive, Seraphina. It's creative. Powerful. Like a forge that strengthens steel through fire."
A small smile tugs at her lips despite her attempt to maintain her stern expression. "Your metaphors are getting a bit dramatic, don't you think?"
I laugh, genuine amusement warming my chest. This—this moment of connection despite our standoff—is why she's perfect for me. Why no other woman has ever come close.
"Perhaps," I concede. "But the sentiment stands. We're meant to be together, you and I. Everything else is just fighting the inevitable."
She sighs, not agreeing but not arguing either. Another small victory.
"I'm hungry," she says instead, changing the subject. "And I need prenatal vitamins if what you say about the pregnancy is true."
"Already in the kitchen," I inform her, releasing her face but catching her hand before she can move away. "Along with everything else you need for a healthy pregnancy. I told you, I've thought of everything."
"Of course you have," she murmurs, but there's less bite in the words than there would have been yesterday.
I lead her toward the kitchen, mentally reviewing the plans I've set in motion. By tomorrow afternoon, I'll have a ring worthy of her. By the day after, I'll have the legal right to call her mine in every sense of the word. And by the time our child is born, she'll have accepted that this is exactly where she belongs—at my side, bearing my name, building our dynasty together.
Seraphina Vale will be Seraphina Vance within the week.
Whether she's ready to admit it yet or not.
Chapter Fifteen
Seraphina
I wearone of the sundresses Knox had waiting for me, a flowing white number that makes me look more angelic than I feel. My hair is twisted up in a casual knot, my feet bare against the cool tile floors as I move through the mansion that has become my luxurious prison. Something's happening. For the past twenty-four hours, there's been a steady stream of deliveries—boxes and garment bags whisked away before I can see their contents, staff members I haven't encountered before moving purposefully through rooms I'm subtly discouraged from entering. Knox has been making calls behind closed doors, ending conversations abruptly when I enter a room. I'm not stupid. I recognize the signs of Knox Vance orchestrating something significant, something he doesn't want me to know about until it's too late to object. And given the smug satisfaction radiating from him like heat from the Caribbean sun, I have a sinking feeling I know exactly what he's planning.
A wedding. My wedding. To him.
The realization crystalizes as I watch white lilies—my favorite flowers, which he certainly remembers from conversations years ago—being carried toward the small chapel nestled on the eastern side of the property. Knox showed me that chapel during our first visit to the island, casually mentioning it was fully licensed for legal ceremonies. At the time, I thought it was just another amenity of his obscenely luxurious estate. Now I see it was foreshadowing.
"Beautiful morning, isn't it?" Knox's voice comes from behind me, and I turn to find him watching me from the doorway to his office. He's dressed casually in linen pants and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing the strong forearms I've always found unreasonably attractive. He looks relaxed, confident, utterly certain that whatever he's planning will unfold exactly as he intends.
It makes me want to scream.
"What are you doing, Knox?" I ask directly, abandoning any pretense that I haven't noticed the unusual activity.
"Running a multinational corporation from a private island," he answers smoothly, pushing away from the doorframe and approaching me. "The usual."
"Don't play dumb. It doesn't suit you." I cross my arms over my chest, a barrier against both his physical presence and the way my traitorous body responds to it. "The deliveries. The staff. The flowers being taken to the chapel. What are you planning?"
His smile is slow, predatory, satisfied. "You're too intelligent for me to fool, aren't you, angel? Always were."
