In all honesty, everything else has become less important, somehow. Secondary.
My primary goal has shifted.
Well, she knows now. And she’s clearly not happy about it. But it doesn’t change a damn thing.
“I refuse to marry you. And if I don’t sign those papers willingly, it won’t be a real marriage, so you are screwed!” she snaps at me.
We’re about to land in Detroit, and she’s still on about this.
My patience has worn thin. I’m done with this conversation.
I lean forward in my seat so that my face is closer to hers. Reaching out, I grab her free arm, the one not cuffed to the seat, and pull her forward, so we are only inches apart.
“Let me make this nice and clear for you, Izabel. If you don’t sign the papers, if you refuse, that’s fine…but there will be consequences. Your friend, Kayla. And her twins. And her husband. And anyone else you love or care for…. I will kill them all. Do you understand me?”
There is no way in hell I would ever go after children. But she doesn’t need to know that.
My voice is a dark and deadly growl, and each word I say is spoken clearly, so there is zero chance for misunderstanding.
Izabel’s mouth drops open. Her eyes flare wide, and for a second, I think she stops breathing.
I hold my stare. I keep my mouth stern.
She’s too stunned to speak, so I ask slowly, “Do we understand each other?”
She nods. “Y-yes,” she stammers, still stunned.
I release her and settle back into my chair. For the rest of the landing and the drive from the airport to my mansion, she is silent.
When we arrive at my estate, the lawyer is already waiting for us. I’m not delaying this in any way. It’s happening immediately. The sooner I make her officially mine, the more satisfied I will be.
Consequences can go to hell.
Her brother can hunt me down. Josiah can come at me with everything he has.
This girl is mine!
I push Izabel forward when she hesitates in the doorway of my home.
“Is…is that a lawyer?” she asks, staring at the man with the briefcase and a bunch of paperwork spread out over the entrance table.
“Very observant, little pixie. Yes, it is.”
“Are we getting married right now?” she gasps.
I nod, pushing her forward again. “Remember what I told you,” I warn her.
A low, savage sort of growl rumbles from her. She sounds like an angry kitten threatening a tiger. It makes me chuckle, which makes her angrier.
The lawyer nods in greeting and hands me a gold pen, a fountain pen with a delicate nib.
“You’ll sign here. And here. And then she will sign here.”
Reaching out, I have to grab Izabel by the arm and pull her to my side. I don’t let go as I hand her the pen and point to the document. “Go on,” I demand.
She bites her lip. Her eyes move from the paper to me and back to the paper. she stares at the pen as though she is trying to decide. She knows the outcome if she doesn’t sign. I have given her a choice. Not really, but the illusion of a choice, at least.
Izabel leans over the table and scribbles her signature next to her name wherever the lawyer points. The nib scratches into the paper as she presses down hard in anger. It tears the paper on the last page and ink bleeds into the edges of the tear.
