“I hate it,” she says passionately, her eyes flaring up, turning her hazel irises gold. “How can you like a life where you have no freedom, no voice, no worth?”
I see the desperation in her face. She just wants to be seen. Acknowledged. Valued.
Being with me is going to break her heart.
“Being a woman in this world doesn’t make you worthless.”
She throws her hands up. “Sure, if you’re a woman with no morals who loves the violence and the men who commit it. Those are the women who embrace this life, who become a part of it. That’s not what I want. That’s not who I am.”
“Sometimes, you don’t have a choice. You do what you must.”
“No, sometimes the people around you don’t give you a choice,” she snaps.
Esme seems to sober up a second later. She takes a deep, shuddering breath. I can see that she’s trying hard to keep her emotions in check.
“Why am I here, Artem?”
Is that the first time she’s said my name?
It fuels a reaction so strong that I find myself leaning forward and gritting my teeth together.
Why the fuck do I like it so much? Why the fuck does hearing my name on her lips make me hard as a rock?
I strain against my pants and remind myself that she needs to be told about what’s coming for her. For both of us.
“You’re going to be my wife,” I say. A flint of ice slips into my tone. “You may as well just accept that now.”
She freezes. Goosebumps let loose on her arms.
I want to reach out and touch her. To run my fingers over her skin.
But it’s an impulse I push away immediately.
I promised myself that I would not cross that line with her.
I wouldn’t ruin her with my bloodstained hands.
This is an alliance, I’d told Cillian. Nothing more.
Did I still mean that?
“You’re really not going to kill me?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“So, you abducted me to… marry me?” she asks. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Because you think claiming me as your wife will deliver you my father’s contacts.”
“You catch on fast.”
“That’s no guarantee,” she says quickly.
“No, but it’s a step in the right direction,” I tell her. “And I can be very persuasive.”
She looks up toward the moon. I can see her eyes are bright. Almost teary.
But when she looks back at me, they’re dry once again.
She looks so fucking beautiful.
“And then what?” she asks.
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“You force me to marry you, you take control of Mexico, my father’s stooges offer you their fealty,” she narrates. “And you’ll have what you want: power.”
“Yes.”
“And once you have it… what happens to me?”
That’s the million-dollar question.
“Nothing happens to you,” I tell her. “I don’t plan on murdering you once I have control of Mexico, if that’s what you mean.”
Is that true? I don’t know. I don’t fucking know.
“So we’re just supposed to stay husband and wife… forever?”
“However long that lasts, yes.”
She shakes her head and sighs. “And I suppose you will continue to fuck whomever you want, whenever you want.”
It’s not a question, so I don’t bother answering.
“And I’ll be expected to be the loyal wife, waiting home patiently for my dear husband to return from screwing his latest whore,” she continues. “Am I right? Did I get all those details correct? Or am I allowed to go have fun, too?”
The thought of another man putting his hands on her sends waves of fury rippling through me.
I feel my fists clench in response.
“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
