Escort.
That was a pleasant word.
A pretty word.
A lie.
My name appeared over and over in cold black print, like they could trap me on the page if they used it enough.
Maisie Declan.
Bride.
Asset.
Problem.
No. No, no, no.
"I'm not going with you." My voice shook, but at least it came out. "I'm not marrying him. I'm not his property."
The man's expression barely changed. "Mr. Varrick anticipated resistance."
Of course he did. James anticipated everything except me having a spine.
"Good for him." I shoved the papers back at the man. "You can tell Mr. Varrick to choke on his breach of promise."
That finally made the man's smile slip. It was satisfying for about one second.
Then he moved.
He was faster than he looked. His hand snapped around my wrist, fingers digging in hard enough that pain shot up my arm. I tried to jerk away, but he yanked me toward him.
"Let go of me!" I shouted.
He didn't.
I twisted and shoved at his chest. He dragged me another step toward the door. I planted my feet, but the floor was smooth, and my boots slid. The envelope fell, papers spilling everywhere.
I clawed at his face with my free hand. My nails caught skin, and he hissed.
Good.
Then he shook me hard enough that my teeth clicked together.
Not good.
Panic burst through me, hot and ugly. I kicked, aiming for anything that would make him regret having hands. I missed and slammed my heel into the side of a tank instead. Pain sparked up my leg, but I didn't stop fighting.
He got an arm around my waist from behind and lifted.
My feet left the floor.
No.
That was the only thought in my head. No, no, no.
A shelf of empty bottles crashed down as I grabbed for it. Glass exploded across the floor. I screamed, loud enough to hurt my throat.
