Page 41 of Bloody Vows
“I agreed to marry you,” I reply sharply, through gritted teeth. “Not to be your pet. Not to have my security replaced without my permission. Not to be constantly threatened?—”
Tristan smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You haven’t begun to be threatened by me,banphrionsa. I would think, after Konstantin’s ultimatum, that you would know what a threat is. But it seems you still need a lesson.” The smile doesn’t fade. “And if you were my pet, Simone, I would keep you on a tighter leash.”
“I’m done with this conversation.” I shake my head sharply. “I wantmysecurity back. And I want?—”
“Maybe I haven’t made myself clear.” A muscle ticks in Tristan’s jaw, and for a moment I see something flash in his eyes—something that almost looks like uncertainty. But it’s gone so soon that I can’t be sure. “Iam in charge here, Simone. Not you. And if it’s going to continue to be a battle of wills, I promise it’s one that you will lose sooner than you think.”
A chime comes from his computer, and he glances over, letting out an irritated breath. “I have a teleconference with Konstantin in five minutes, Simone. So I’ll give you a choice. You’ve stormed into my office without permission, interrupted my day, and it’s clear that you need a reminder of who it is that you belong to. So—you can get on your knees under this desk, get my cock out, and do your best to make me come with your mouth while I have this meeting. Or…”
He trails off, and I stare at him, shock painted across my face. “You can’t be serious.”
“Deadly serious,célie,” he growls. “Or I can spank you for your insolence. I’ll find both equally pleasurable, I’m sure.” He smirks at me, reaching down to adjust himself without shame—and despite everything, I feel a tingle run down my spine.
He’s gorgeous, and masculine, and utterly confident, and I hate that I feel heat pooling in my belly as I look at him, my thighs squeezing together at how potent a mixture it all is. Tristan smiles at me, and I glare at him, but he doesn’t so much as flinch.
“Your choice,célie,” he says lazily, watching me from behind the desk. “Which will it be?”
12
SIMONE
He’s not joking.I realize that as I stare at him, waiting for him to back down, to tell me to leave before his meeting. But as the seconds tick by, Tristan just taps his fingers against the desk, looking at me expectantly.
“I—no,” I blurt out, taking a step back. “I’m not doing that. You’re not going tohumiliateme like that. And you’re not going to lay a hand on me?—”
Tristan glances at his computer. “Three minutes to decide, Simone, or I decide for you.” He smiles, and I truly can’t guess which he’d pick if it were up to him. “One or the other is going to happen,célie. Your mouth around my cock or my hand turning your pretty ass red. Choose.”
My pulse flutters in my throat. “I hate you,” I bite out, and Ido. I mean it with every cell of my being. But at the same time, looking at Tristan from across the room, arrogant and domineering, I feel that lick of heat through my body again.
It felt so fuckinggoodwhen he made me come on his fingers. And on our wedding night, it was so hard to keep myself from giving in to the pleasure. All of him feels so good when he touches me—his fingers, his mouth, his cock—and I can onlyimagine what he could do to me if I gave in to it. The kinds of things he could show me. It’s a temptation, flickering through my veins like little tongues of fire.
His attitude arouses me as much as it makes me hate him. But I refuse to give in to it. I refuse to let this man put me on my knees, to willingly submit to him. And as for the other choice?—
The thought of him actually physically punishing me is frightening. No one has ever laid a hand on me before. But there’s a stirring of heat at the thought of that, too, one that confuses me, because I don’t know how that could possibly be arousing.
I wait too long, caught between desire and hatred, refusal and the knowledge that Tristan is going to push his decision on me one way or another. His computer chimes again, and Tristan clears his throat.
“Go to your room, Simone. I expect to see you at dinner. And don’t try to leave the house today. Security will have orders to stop you.”
My cheeks flame red, anger burning a path up my throat, but Tristan waves a dismissive hand at me. “Out, Simone.Now. I have a meeting.”
As angry as I am, I know better than to push my luck. I pivot on my heel, storming out of the room, and as I slam the door behind me, I swear I hear his chuckle—deep and amused—from within the office as I leave.
—
I don’t come downfor dinner that night.
At six forty-five, I look at the clock, debating how far to push Tristan. I tested his statement about leaving the estate—true to his word, I was told that Mr. O’Malley’s instructions were that Iwas not to be allowed to leave today. No amount of cursing or reminding security who I am worked—none of the security now has any loyalty to my late father or to me. They all belong to Tristan, just as he thinks I do.
But I don’t.Maybe legally, but not in any other way. And as the clock ticks toward seven, I decide to prove that point, even though I know I’m probably going to regret it.
Instead of going down to the dining room, I call for someone to bring dinner up to me, before changing into a pair of comfortable black shorts and a loose T-shirt, curling up in the armchair in my room with one of my favorite shows on the television. When an hour passes and no dinner arrives, I feel sure that Tristan intercepted it somehow, and I consider going down to seek out something to eat myself. But he’s undoubtedly still downstairs as well, and I don’t want to run into him.
After the chaos of the day, I’m not even that hungry. I find a chocolate bar in my nightstand that I stashed away, lock my door against any intrusion by my husband, and tell myself firmly that I won’t open it no matter how hard he bangs on it or what he threatens.
I’ll come out when I please, and I won’t let him frighten me. Or maybe, if I’m lucky, he’ll forget about this afternoon and ignore me tonight like he did last night.
Deep down, though, I know he won’t forget. And just after ten p.m., as I come out of the ensuite bathroom after washing my face, I hear the sound of a key turning in the lock.
