Page 69 of The Proposal Problem

I ignore him, clearly not getting my point across.

Instead of bothering to continue, I direct my attention back to his driver.

“Paul, is it? Paul, why don’t you pull the fucking car over before I climb up there and do it myself.”

His eyes meet mine in the rear view, a tinge of hesitancy written across them.

Still, he stubbornly continues to drive.

Fuck.

Well, I’m nothing if not honest. He had his chance.

I lean forward, fully prepared to follow through with the threat.

Of course, Anton’s hands wrap firmly around my hips, fingers digging into me as he drags my ass back to the seat.

“Leave Paul out of it, Perce. He’s just doing his job.”

“What job is that? Kidnapping?”

Anton laughs. “You’re being a bit dramatic, Percy. Don’t you think?”

“Well, if it’s not abduction, what would you call it?”

He rolls his eyes. “Taking my wife for a drive.”

“I’m not your—” I growl in frustration. “Well, I won’t be for very long anyway!”

He just sits back into his seat, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at me like he’s making an assessment.

“How did you even pull it off?” I ask, suddenly curious. “The spontaneous wedding, I mean.”

He laughs. “I’m a fucking prince, Percy. I can make anything happen.”

His eyes skate across my body as he says it, creating a hollow ache between my legs.

Like everything else to do with my traitorous body today, I ignore it.

“Not anything,” I sneer.

He narrows his eyes, staring at me with his “challenge accepted” look.

Normally, I find that very sexy. Well, if I’m being honest, I still do. But right now, it also pisses me off something fierce.

“You’re my wife, Percy. Whether you like it or not, I’m your husband. And no matter how much you lie to yourself about it, youarein love with me.”

“We’ll see about that.”

He throws his head back in laughter, the sound rubbing roughly at my senses.

“Go ahead and be stubborn,” he chides. “But I love you, Percy, and you’re not getting away from me.”

If he weren’t so amused with himself, he would notice the look now flashing across my own face.

That’s the thing about men, though—get them just a little distracted and you can sneak anything past them.

In a flash of movement, my hand’s on the door, tugging quickly at the handle.

I see the spark of recognition in his eyes the moment before I tumble through the opening.

My own “challenge accepted”look is still fixed to my face.

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