Page 73 of Gilded Cage (Kovalyov Bratva 1)

“No other man will touch you as long as I’m your husband.”

She looks at me with a pitying expression. “You’re really just like him. My father.”

I don’t like that one bit.

“I’m not like anyone,” I snap. “I’m my own man.”

But Esme shakes her head and laughs right in my face. “Oh, yes. Yes, you are. You’re cut from the exact same cloth and you don’t even know it. And just like him, you are utterly clueless.”

I narrow my eyes at her. I know I shouldn’t ask, but I can’t help myself.

“Is that so?”

“It’s all about possession with men like you,” she says. “But even if you possess something, that doesn’t make it real. You can put me in a room and lock me up. You can force yourself on me and take my body, you can marry me and call me your wife, but you will never truly possess me. Not in any way that matters.”

Her tone is biting. Her expression fiercer than I’ve ever seen.

She’s glowing so brightly that she outshines the fucking moon.

What angers me more than anything… is that she’s right.

And all my strength, all my power, all my wealth cannot change that.

Part of her—her heart, her soul—can’t be taken. Can’t be claimed.

It can only be given.

She can tell that she’s struck a chord. Her eyes light up even brighter and she leans forward.

“And you hate that, don’t you?” she presses. “You fucking despise that you can’t just snatch that away from me and make me yours. This isn’t your first time trying, is it?”

She shakes her head as if answering her own question and licks her lips greedily. “Is this what you do? Kidnap women, marry them, and then lock them away for the rest of their lives? I bet you’ve done this before, haven’t you? If that’s the case, I’d rather you kill me. I won’t be your newest fake toy wife.”

I see Marisha’s face in my mind’s eye instantly.

I’m already on the edge of anger.

Esme’s words push me over.

She stiffens when she sees my expression change. She knows she’s gone too far.

“I think it’s time for you to go back to your room,” I say coldly.

Her eyes widen for a split second. “Why?”

“We had one rule. You broke it. Dinner’s over.”

“You can’t just send me away!” she balks. “I’m not some little kid getting put in timeout.”

I seize her wrist and yank her close to me. My plate goes clattering to the floor and splinters, but I don’t give a fuck. My eyes are locked on Esme.

“Let’s get one thing very clear,” I hiss right in her face. “I can do anything I want to you. The sooner you get over that fact, the easier this will be for both of us.”

I hold her a moment longer, close enough to feel her breath plume on my face. My anger is simmering, boiling.

Then, suddenly exhausted, I let her go.

She collapses back in her chair, eyes wide.

---