“You’re not infertile, Camilla. The point of today’s visit was to ensure you’re in good health after what my brother and his idiot friends did to you last night.” I set my glass down and relax into my chair. “He also canceled your birth control shots, as you won’t be needing them anymore.”
“Birth control shots?” She blinks at me. “I… I don’t understand.”
“Sign the papers and I’ll explain everything.”
“Explain everything and I’ll consider signing,” she counters, causing me to arch a brow.
“You’re not exactly in a position to negotiate, sweetheart.” I fold my hands in my lap. “Warren left you nothing. I’m offering you everything.”
“Assuming I can produce an heir.”
“Several heirs,” I correct again. “If you’re concerned about our ability to fornicate, I’m happy to provide a demonstration.”
“I failed Warren.”
“Because you were on birth control,” I say patiently.
“I’m not on birth control.”
“Not anymore,” I agree. “But you were. I mean, I couldn’t risk my brother impregnating you. Not when you were meant to be mine all along.”
She frowns at me, her mind processing and rejecting my words right before my eyes. “This doesn’t make any sense. How could you…? And how could I…?”
“Sign the papers, Camilla.” I’ll need Trevor to go over them when she’s done and confirm that she didn’t miss anything. He’ll also add his own signatures where appropriate, then file everything for me. Technically, he should be here to witness it all. But I refuse to do this with an audience, and he frequently breaks the rules on my behalf.
It’s a corrupt world.
And money affords me whatever the fuck I want.
Including the gorgeous female sitting across from me. “I won’t ask again,” I tell her.
“You didn’t ask,” she whispers, her pupils dilating with a mixture of fear and something akin to arousal. She likes my dominance. That’s good, considering I have no other side available.
“Because you have no alternative. It’s this, or I send you back to the program where they’ll tag you for the Elite Maidens or worse.” It’ll never happen, but I voice the threat because she needs to hear it. “Is that what you want? To become a high-class whore?”
“Isn’t that what I am already?” Soft, hurt words, grounded in memories courtesy of my idiot brother.
“I’m not Warren,” I inform her, my voice just as soft. “He never valued you. I will.”
“For an heir.”
“Heirs,” I correct for the third time, allowing her to hear the growl in my voice.
She swallows, her pulse thrumming visibly in her neck.
Despite my vow not to repeat the words, I do it anyway. “Sign, Camilla.” If she denies me again, I’ll bend her over this table and fuck her into submission.
She’s mine.
She’s always been mine.
And I allow her to see that with my gaze.
I’m not a knight or a savior. I’m a man who knows what I want, and right now I want her on her knees and begging for my cock. And if she’s really good, I’ll grant her wish. But I need her to comply by finalizing the contract so I can legally possess her.
However, rather than oblige me, she picks up her fork and finishes her steak. Afterward, she drinks her wine, then dabs her pretty lips with her napkin and sets it to the side.
Silence.
She holds my gaze, her beautiful blue eyes allowing me a glimpse into the inner workings of her mind.
This is probably the first time someone has ever requested her acquiescence, and while it’s clear I’m not entirely asking, I am giving her the moment to contemplate her options.
Either she signs willingly or I make her sign.
And that hint of a defiant flare of her nostrils tells me she’s considering the latter.
By removing her choice, I maintain the control. That can often make a fate such as hers easier to accept. Because then she can place all her anger and hatred on the one who forced her hand—me—rather than despise herself for agreeing to the terms.
“You can sign now with dignity, or you can sign while I’m inside you. What will it be, little beauty?” I ask her.
She swallows. “What will happen after I sign?”
“I’ll add my signature and hand the documents to my lawyer for him to finalize the arrangement.”
“Making me your wife.”
“You’ve been my wife for two years, Camilla. This just makes it all legal.”
She frowns at me. “I don’t understand.”
“There’s nothing to understand,” I tell her softly. “You’re mine. And it’s finally time for our wedding night.” I push away from the table to stand and button my suit jacket. “So what will it be, sweetheart? Signing with dignity, or while I’m fucking you?”
Her throat moves as she considers her options.
Either she makes the decision on her own or I make it for her. The outcome is entirely the same regardless of which path she picks.
She clears her throat, her cheeks reddening. “I need a pen.”
I smile. “Good choice.”
Chapter Eight
Camilla
Seven signatures are all my life is worth.
Fourteen if I include Master Kaiden’s handsome scrawl on each line beside mine. He finishes the final page, then stacks the papers together again. “Claude?” he calls out, his deep tone causing me to jump.
He’s not even going to wait for the ink to dry before putting me to work.
I may as well start stripping now, but I know better than to act hastily. He’ll tell me where he wants me and how.
“Sir?” The driver from earlier enters, his broad shoulders almost as intimidating as his stoic expression. He reminds me of a linebacker, only much more lethal. Violence lurks in his hazel eyes, and the unmistakable aura of security surrounds him. We’ve never really met, but I sense his purpose. This is Master Kaiden’s protector.
“Can you deliver these to Trevor? He’ll want to file right away.” Master Kaiden places the paperwork in a file, then hands it to Claude.
“Congratulations, sir,” he replies, accepting the documents. “Would you like
