Page 20 of Sinful Bride

"How thoughtful." Her tone makes it clear she thinks it's anything but. "A purchased ring for a purchased bride."

"You're not⁠—"

"Aren't I?" She steps closer, and I can smell that floral perfume. The scent of it was still in my nose when I jerked off to the thought of her after the party. "We're both commodities in this transaction, Declan. Let's not pretend otherwise."

"I'm trying to do the right thing here."

"The right thing would not be pretending you belong here, or that you have any right to my hand in marriage. Her eyes flash with something—anger, maybe, or pain. It's hard to tell with her. "But you won't do that. Because you're determined to be something you're not."

The accusation cuts deep, because it's everything I've thought about myself, every insecurity and doubt and fear that I'm not good enough for this role.

My jaw tightens, and I snap the ring box shut. She doesn't flinch at the sound the way I expected she would. "You don't know anything about me."

"I know you're not from our world. I know you don't understand our traditions, our expectations, our way of life." She looks at the ring again, her expression dismissive. "And I know that ring proves it. You're trying to fit in, but you never will. You'll always be the outsider. The upstart who doesn't belong."

She's saying everything I've thought about myself. Every fear I've had since Lachlan handed me this organization. Every moment I've felt like an imposter playing at being something I'm not.

And hearing it from her makes it worse.

"Take the ring," I say quietly.

"Why? So I can pretend this means something?"

"Because you're going to be my wife, and my wife deserves a ring."

"Your wife." She says it like it's a curse. Like the words taste bitter in her mouth. "I'm going to be your wife because my father demanded it. Because I have no choice, and my entire life has been leading to this moment where I'm handed over to a man I barely know."

There's pain in her voice now, beneath the ice and the contempt. She's trying to hide it, but I hear it in the way her voice cracks slightly on the word choice. I see it in the way she's holding herself so rigidly, like she might shatter if she relaxes even a little.

"I didn't ask for this either," I say.

"No. But you accepted it. You could have refused. You could have chosen war. But you didn't, because this was easier. More convenient." She takes the ring box from my hand, her fingers brushing mine for just a moment. The contact sends electricity through me, unwanted but impossible to ignore. "Thank you for the ring, Declan. I'm sure it cost you a great deal."

The dismissal is clear. She turns to walk away, the ring box clutched in her hand.

"Elena."

She pauses but doesn't look back.

"I know you don't want this. I know you think I'm beneath you. But we're doing this anyway. So we can either make each other miserable, or we can try to make it work."

"Make it work." She laughs again with that same bitter sound. "You really don't understand our world at all, do you? This isn't about making it work. This is about duty. About obligation. About doing what we're told regardless of what we want."

"That's not how I operate."

"Then you're going to have a very difficult time as my husband." She finally looks back at me, and her expression is cold and closed off, every wall she has firmly in place. "I'll see you at the wedding, Declan. Try not to embarrass yourself."

Then she's gone—disappearing into the garden and leaving me standing in the hallway.

I drive back to my penthouse in silence. The city lights blur past the windows, but I barely see them. I'm too busy replaying the conversation, hearing Elena's words over and over in my head.

A purchased ring for a purchased bride.

You're determined to be something you're not.

You'll always be the outsider.

She's right about all of it. I don't have a family legacy. I don't have generations of tradition backing me up. I'm a man who took over an organization under questionable circumstances, who's trying to navigate a world I don't fully understand. I'm an imposter. And she sees right through me.