Page 26 of The Chains that Bind
"Answer the question."
Instead of replying immediately, he takes my hand, his thumb brushing over my bare ring finger in a gesture that sends an unwelcome shiver up my arm.
"Our future," he finally says, his eyes never leaving mine. "I'm planning our future."
A cold knot forms in my stomach despite the tropical heat. "Without consulting me. Without asking what I want."
"Would you have said yes if I asked?" he counters, his grip tightening slightly when I try to pull my hand away.
"That's not the point?—"
"It's exactly the point," he interrupts. "You're still fighting what we both know is inevitable. Still clinging to the fiction that you don't belong with me, that what we have isn't worth building on."
"So your solution is to force me into marriage?" I pull harder, finally freeing my hand from his grip. "To orchestrate a wedding without even asking if it's what I want?"
"I know what you want, Seraphina." His voice drops to that low register that always seems to bypass my ears and hit directly in my core. "I know what you need, even when you're too stubborn or scared to admit it to yourself."
"That's not how this works," I insist, taking a step back to put distance between us. "You don't just decide someone's going to marry you and make it happen whether they want to or not."
"When that someone is carrying my child? When that someone's body responds to mine like it was created specifically for that purpose?" He closes the distance I tried to create. "Yes, that's exactly how it works."
Before I can formulate a response cutting enough to penetrate his arrogance, a discreet cough interrupts us. We both turn to find a staff member hovering nearby, looking uncomfortable at having interrupted what's clearly a tense conversation.
"Mr. Vance, sir. Mr. White has arrived as requested."
Knox nods. "Show him to the study. I'll be there momentarily."
The staff member retreats, and I turn back to Knox with narrowed eyes. "Who's Mr. White?"
"A business associate," he answers vaguely. "Why don't you join me? There's something I'd like to show you."
It's not a request, despite the phrasing. Everything about Knox's posture and expression tells me this is a command, not an invitation. I should refuse on principle—should continue arguing about his high-handed wedding arrangements, should demand to be taken back to the mainland immediately.
Instead, curiosity gets the better of me. "Fine."
I follow him through the mansion to his wood-paneled study, a room that always reminded me of old money despite Knox being entirely self-made. A small, dapper man in an impeccable suit waits there, rising when we enter. His eyes widen slightly as they land on me, a flicker of recognition that suggests he knows exactly who I am.
"Mr. White," Knox greets him with a firm handshake. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."
"Always a pleasure to serve you, Mr. Vance." The man's voice is cultured, refined, with a hint of a British accent. His gaze moves to me. "And this must be the future Mrs. Vance. A pleasure, my dear."
Future Mrs. Vance. The presumption of it makes my blood boil.
"There's been a misunderstanding," I say tightly. "I haven't agreed to?—"
"Clarence is the finest jeweler in the country," Knox interrupts smoothly, placing a hand at the small of my back. "He's brought some options for us to consider."
Only then do I notice the sleek leather cases arranged on Knox's desk. Jewelry cases. Ring cases, specifically. My suspicion solidifies into certainty—Knox isn't just planning a wedding. He's planning it for the immediate future. Days, not weeks or months.
"I don't need to see options for something I haven't agreed to," I say, trying to step away from Knox's touch. His hand remains firmly at my back, the pressure gentle but immovable.
"Humor me," he murmurs close to my ear. "What's the harm in looking?"
Plenty, I want to say. The harm is in giving him any indication that I might go along with this insanity. The harm is in the way my heart betrays me with a flutter at the thought of wearing Knox's ring, despite my mind's vehement objections to his methods.
But White is already opening cases, displaying an array of stones and settings that would make any woman's breath catch. Diamonds in sizes that border on obscene. Sapphires that match the exact shade of the ocean visible through the study windows. Emeralds that echo the color of my eyes—a detail that tells me Knox has been very specific in his instructions.
"These are just preliminary options," White explains, his tone deferential. "Once you've selected the general style you prefer, I'll create something unique. One of a kind, like the woman who'll wear it."
