Page 18 of Covenant

My finger smashes into the elevator button and I fold my arms across my chest as I wait for it to appear. When it does, we step inside, Matthias crowding me. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him to back the fuck up, but I hold it back. I won’t rise to him.

I won’t.

Besides, I should get used to it, to how close he’ll be to me at all times moving forward, but it’s almost suffocating. How am I going to cope with being in his space all the time?

It has to be better than what you have now.

I’m not so sure about that. Matthias has always had this way of demanding attention. It’s been over a decade since he’s focused it on me.

I used to love it, crave it. Now I can’t think of anything worse.

I inhale deeply, trying to get some much-needed oxygen into my lungs. Instead, they fill withhim, the heady cologne he wears. Probably expensive, like the kind I used to wear when I had money.

I hold my breath as the elevator brings us back into the lobby and I step out. I want to move quickly, to get away from Matthias as fast as possible. To escape this clusterfuck and panic about what this will mean for me.

Matthias’s hand wraps around my wrist, making me pause. I try to pull away, but his grip tightens.

“We have a deal,” he says lowly, and I find myself clenching at those words.

We do. Why the fuck does he need to remind me of this? “What do you want from me?”

“A doting fiancé and husband. Just like Mr. Flanders said. Can you do that, Wy?”

I close my eyes, my blood pressure skyrocketing. Fuck him and his expensive cologne and his perfect fucking suit.

I force the words out. “Tomorrow. Give me today, Matthias. At least give me fucking that.”

“Tomorrow,” he agrees. “We’ll be married and the contract will start.”

He releases my wrist and I step away, feeling like I can breathe once more. And without looking back, I step into the rain and make my way to my old, worn car.

I don’t look back, but I can feel his eyes on me.

He never wavers, never looks away.

It could be worse. I could have drugs up my ass right now. I could be on my way to a cartel.

But I’m not gay.

It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Not the marriage. Not even the fact that it’s to Matthias Buckingham, of all fucking people.

I just need to make it through a year with him. Even if I have to see his face every day, even if I have to choke back the loathing. I can do it.

For Jackson, if nothing else.

If only to prove that Ican.

It’s only when I’m several blocks away that it hits me. The numbness that’s been my constant companion for months is missing. It’s gone.

In its place is a fiery rage.

It’s a relief after the nothingness I’m used to. I grab on to it with both hands, letting it grow and swell within me.

Fury will get me through this, I realize. If hating Matthias is what I need to survive the next twelve months, I’m going to let it fucking flourish.

5

WYATT

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