Page 6 of The Chains that Bind
"You can't," I press on. "Because we both know the truth. You ran because what we had scared you. Because I wanted all of you—not just the polished gallery director who charms donors and artists, but the woman who begs to be taken harder, who surrenders control because she knows I'll catch her, who trusts me enough to let herself fall apart completely."
The helicopter begins its descent, the change in pressure making her ears pop. Her eyes fly open, panic replacing some of the desire I'd kindled.
"Where are we going?" she asks again.
"Somewhere we won't be interrupted. Somewhere I can remind you exactly who you belong to." I release her wrists but don't move from my position covering her body. "Things will be different this time, Seraphina."
"There is no 'this time,'" she insists, but her voice lacks conviction. "You can't just kidnap me and expect me to fall back into your bed, Knox."
I smile then, a slow, predatory curve of my lips that makes her pulse jump visibly at her throat. "I don't expect you to fall, angel. I expect you to fight me every step of the way." I brush my thumb across her lower lip again, feeling its fullness. "Fighting me was always your favorite form of foreplay."
Her sharp inhale tells me I've hit my mark. She opens her mouth to retort, but I seal my lips over hers, swallowing whatever denial she was about to offer. eighteen months of hunger poured into one devastating kiss, reclaiming territory that has always been mine.
When I finally pull back, her lips are swollen, her breathing uneven, and the fire in her eyes has transformed from rage to something far more dangerous for her continued resistance.
"Welcome home, Seraphina," I murmur against her mouth as the helicopter touches down on my private landing pad.
Time to remind my woman exactly who she belongs to.
Chapter Five
Seraphina
My lips burnwhere Knox's mouth claimed mine, but there's a deeper heat unfurling in my chest, an uncomfortable warmth that I recognize as desire. Not guilt—I refuse to feel guilty for responding to a kiss stolen against my will. But there's no denying the way my body lights up under his touch, like a circuit completed after too long in the dark. I shove against his chest as the helicopter settles onto what looks like a private helipad, desperate to put space between us before I do something truly stupid, like kiss him back properly.
"Get off me," I hiss, pushing harder, my palms meeting the solid wall of his chest through his expensive suit. Even that brief contact sends unwanted electricity up my arms. "You've lost your mind, Knox. You can't just?—"
"Can't just what?" He raises an eyebrow, not budging an inch despite my efforts. "Save you from a loveless marriage? Bring you back where you belong?"
"I don't belong to you!" The words come out louder than intended, echoing in the confined space of the helicopter cabin.The pilot studiously keeps his eyes forward, probably paid enough to be selectively deaf and blind.
Knox finally shifts his weighteen, allowing me to scramble out from under him, but his hand immediately captures my wrist in an unbreakable grip. "We both know that's not true."
The helicopter rotors slow to a stop, the sudden silence deafening. Through the windows, I can see we've landed on top of a building—one of Knox's properties, undoubtedly. The Manhattan skyline spreads out around us, the late afternoon sun glinting off glass buildings like we're surrounded by stars.
"I'm not going anywhere with you," I say, trying to sound firm despite the way my pulse races beneath his fingers. "Take me back to the cathedral. Now."
His laugh is low and without humor. "So you can marry that cardboard cutout of a man? Not happening, angel."
"That 'cardboard cutout' is a decent human being who doesn't kidnap women from their own weddings!" I wrench my arm, trying to break his hold, but it's like trying to bend steel with my bare hands.
"No, he just tries to marry women who belong to someone else." Knox's eyes darken dangerously. "Did you really think I would let that happen, Seraphina? Did you think I would watch you bind yourself to another man and do nothing?"
Before I can answer, he's moving, sliding open the helicopter door and pulling me with him onto the helipad. The sudden rush of cool air against my overheated skin makes me shiver—or maybe it's the intent in Knox's eyes as he walks purposefully toward a rooftop entrance, dragging me alongside him.
I dig in my heels, the satin shoes I carefully selected for walking down the aisle now sliding uselessly against the concrete surface. "Let me go! This is kidnapping, Knox! Actual, criminal kidnapping!"
He stops abruptly, turning to face me with an expression that would make lesser women cower. I lift my chin, refusing to be intimidated despite the way my heart hammers against my ribs.
"Call the police then," he challenges, pulling his phone from his jacket pocket and holding it out to me. "Go ahead. See how that plays for your career. 'Art Director Calls Cops on Billionaire Ex After Wedding Disaster.' I'm sure the board at your gallery will love that headline."
I stare at the phone, hating him for knowing exactly which pressure points to push. My career has always been my vulnerable spot—the one thing I've built entirely on my own, without family connections or inherited privilege. Knox knows how hard I've worked to be taken seriously in the art world, knows that a scandal like this could set me back years.
"You're despicable," I whisper, ignoring the offered phone.
"I'm determined," he corrects, pocketing the device again. "There's a difference."
When he tugs me forward again, I realize fighting him physically is futile. Knox has always been stronger—not just in the obvious ways, with his broad shoulders and the body he maintains with ruthless discipline, but in his will. Once Knox Vance decides on a course of action, the world either moves with him or gets flattened in his wake.
