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He snags my arm, his grip bruising as he drags me towards him. Our bodies are inches from each other, heat building between us. I can't help but be aroused by the proximity of him to me, at the strength of him. It feels hard to breathe. The intensity in his eyes certainly doesn't help with that. “No, it wouldn't fucking please me. If you die, our alliance with your family dies.”

I can't deny the sting of pain that flashes through my ribs at his statement. I didn't expect love, of course not, but I did hope he didn't just see me as a business transaction. Why, I don't know, because I see him the same way… But I had hoped there would be more between us. During lunch with my sisters-in-law, I saw how much they love their husbands. Was it wrong of me to want that too?

Yes. It was a foolish, childish dream, and the sooner I start treating this as what it is, the easier things will be. “And we can't have that, can we?”

Kane doesn't say a word. At least, not until his eyes lower. Then he grabs my wrists, twisting them so he can look at the palms. “You're hurt.”

I follow his line of sight and see my palms are grazed and bleeding. I must've scraped them when I dropped to the ground. I try to pull them away from his grasp, but his hands are like shackles around my wrists. “They don't hurt.”

It's a lie. Now that I've registered I'm scraped up, sharp, stabbing pains make their way through my skin. Kane ignores my words and gives a chin lift to Parker Weston. “Inside. Now.”

Bossy bastard. Does he think I'm just going to dance to whatever tune he deems? He is not my husband yet.

“Don't even think about arguing. You're bleeding.”

I let him lead me into the house, or rather drag me, since he still has hold of my wrist. The inside is just as ostentatious as the outside. The decor screams money. I hate it. It's cold. Unwelcoming.

“Whose house is this?”

Kane stops suddenly, and I bump into his back. He peers down at me. “Mine.”

Disappointment races through me, but I'm not surprised he would have such a clinical home. “Really? You live here?”

“What's the matter, Princess—is it not enough for you?”

“On the contrary. I find it a bit much.”

He moves like lightning, so fast I barely register him coming towards me. He backs me up against the wall, his hands bracketing my body, stopping any escape. For a moment, fear works through my veins. This man is a killer, a psychopath to boot, and I'm riling him up. What is wrong with me? Even so, I steel my spine and raise my chin, ready to throw down whatever he may toss in my direction.

“Is there anything you do like about me, Elena?”

I meet his eyes with a glare of my own. “This is a marriage of convenience. There is no need for us to be friendly with each other.”

“That we both agree on, but we could at least try to be civil. I don't want to spend the next forty fucking years walking on egg shells around each other.”

I don't want that either, but I'm also not willing to make concessions—yet.

“I'm doing this for my family. For no other reason, Kane. I don't give a shit if you like me or not.”

His fingers trail over my cheek before his hand rests against my throat. It's a possessive move, even if it wasn't done possessively. I hold my breath, wondering what he's going to do as he continues to stroke over my pulse point. He must be able to feel my heart hammering against his touch. I hate that my body is reacting as if I've never been in the presence of a man before. Kane might have darkness in his soul, but there is something alluring about that. It matches my own. I might not be as dark as he is, but I’m no angel either. For my family, there is nothing I wouldn’t do—including spy on my soon-to-be husband and his family.

Even so, I feel as if I’m walking towards a line in the road, one I’m undoubtedly about to cross because I want him to dip his head and take my mouth. I want him to press against me, pushing his cock against my pussy. I want it with a desperation I’ve never felt before. I hate myself for wanting anything from him. He’s the enemy. He’ll always be the enemy, even when I share his last name.

He does not move closer. Disappointment shreds me. I don't want to even know why I feel disappointed about it. I shouldn’t want anything to do with this man.

“In a few weeks,” he says, “we will be married, and I expect obedience from you. Do you understand?”

I jolt at his demand. Did he really just say that? Arrogant arse! I try to shove him back, but he doesn't move an inch. He's like a wall of titanium. “If that's what you expect, you're going to be sorely disappointed!” I give up trying to fight him. He is bigger, and I don't have the strength required.

He grabs both my wrists in one hand and holds them over my head against the wall. I thrash against him, trying to unseat him, but he doesn't move again. In a battle of strengths, I am woefully inadequate against him. “Let go of me!” I demand.

He doesn't do as I ask.

Instead, he leans into me. “Don't push me, little girl. You won't like what happens if you do.”

The urge to fire back a response sits on the tip of my tongue, but the look on his face convinces me to hold it. Kane is dangerous, and I know this. But it's more than the fear of what he might do. It's the fear of what will happen to my family if I don't bend to his will even just a little. My father thinks the Frasers are a threat, enough of one that he would send his daughter in to spy on them. That worries me and makes me pliant. Whatever is going on, I must get to the bottom of it and give my father whatever he needs to ensure the safety of my sister and my brother.

When I don't fight him, a small smirk plays over his face.

“Good,” he murmurs. “This doesn't have to be torture, Elena. It can be so much more.”

But he's wrong. Because this is torture. He is not the man I would choose if I was allowed to, and I doubt I am the woman he would seek out either. He releases my hands, taking the other with his free hand and holding them so he can see the damage to my palms. The wounds are superficial, but messy. He brings one to his mouth and kisses the top of my left index finger. It's such gentle gesture, one that takes me completely by surprise. “I'm going to clean you up, and you're not going to argue with me. Understood?”

I nod, and then I let him lead me into the kitchen, all the while my heart racing.

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