Page 129 of Coercion

When we shake, he smiles, before leaning to capture my lips in a chaste kiss. I cup his chiselled jaw with my hand and I can feel his stubble prickling my skin. He’s normally clean shaven. Immaculate. It’s odd to see him so unkempt.

But as I drop my hand, I wince, feeling that familiar pang from my back. How those wounds protest.

“I will get you a doctor.” He begins. “I will pay for the best plastic surgeon…”

“No,” I say firmly. I don’t want that. I was never that vain, I was never so caught up in how I looked that I would risk going under the knife and for what? To try to remove some part of our story.

No, these scars are like a battle we’ve both endured and I want to wear them with pride.

They’re proof of my own fight, proof that I’m more than what I appear to be.

That I’m a fighter and, though I may have forgotten that for a while, I don’t any longer.

Ruby

It’s hard to settle the nerves. Hard to keep the serene look on my face too and not let out a squeal.

I know just beyond this room are the other Families. The other Heads. Among them is Nico and that alone gives me some comfort that there’s a friendly face in all of this – at least somewhat friendly that is.

I wring my hands for what must be the tenth time while my brother watches but keeps his mouth shut.

Whatever thoughts he has, he mercifully decides not to speak them out loud.

As the door opens, I turn my head, and my heart flips as my eyes land on Preston. He’s in a dark grey suit, looking more deadly and somehow more majestic than ever.

“Jett,” He says, jerking his chin for my brother to leave us and he quickly disappears out of the room.

They’re still not at ease with one another, still finding their way. I guess it doesn’t help that Noah is technically his guard, watching him to make sure he plays by our rules because as yet, even I don’t trust him fully.

“You look beautiful.” Preston murmurs, closing the distance.

I give a weak smile that betrays my nerves and I glance down at the silver satin dress that hugs my figure like a second skin.

“I think the red would have been…” His fingers silence the last of my words.

“Perfect.” He says, before sinking to his knees.

It’s been two months. Two months since we executed my mother, since we took back everything Gunnar and Levi stole.

Since I became head of the Holtz Family.

And now here I am, acting like I have a clue what I’m doing, pretending that all of this is normal, that a female Head, a Queen even, has the right to rule on her own accord.

But then, why shouldn’t I?

My father might have been old fashioned but I don’t doubt he would have been more than proud to see what I’ve become, what I’ve achieved.

Preston’s hands skate up my leg, slowly, almost cautiously, he does the straps of the heels up and I hold my breath, trying not to react to the feel of his fingertips brushing against my skin.

We haven’t touched, haven’t kissed, haven’t done anything since I got out of the hospital a few weeks ago, and though he’s barely left my side, he’s acting like a bodyguard, not a husband.

My back is fully healed, my injuries from where my own mother tried to kill me are also all healed.

I lean down, catch his face with my hand, and the hint of his stubble pricks my fingers.

But I see that look, that flash of something, before he forces himself to meet my gaze.

“When will you forgive yourself?” I half-whisper.

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