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“Protection,” I snap. “I know. I’ve heard this all before.”
“Then I don’t understand why I’m being forced to repeat myself.”
“Because I’m not just gonna lie down and accept every stupid rule you throw at me, Misha!”
I march closer to him, trapping him between his desk and my body. His eyes flare, rich with that uninhibited wildness that makes my knees weak.
“Do you want to hear my theory?” I ask. “I think youlikewhen I fight you. Everyone else is scared of you, but I press back. And you like it. It turns you on. Doesn’t it, baby?”
He scowls down at me, but doesn’t make a move.
I followed him down here looking for a fight. But now, I just want him to spread me across his desk and fuck me until we forget what we were fighting about.
He opens his mouth, and in my head, I’m urging him on.Go on then. If you’re not being a coward, then don’t be a coward. If you love me, if you care about me, if youevercared about me…
Then kiss me.
“Go back to your room, Paige.”
I stiffen. “I’m your wife, not your soldier. Or do I need to remind you of the difference?”
“You’re not getting out of this house any time soon.” His eyes dip down to my cleavage and back up. It’s just a twitch, just a flash, but it’s enough to make my heart race. “Petyr thinks you’re dead, and we’re going to keep it that way as long as we can.”
“Fine. Then at least give me my phone back.”
“No.”
I curl my fingers around the neckline of his t-shirt. “I’m only going to call your mother, Niki, and Cyrille. No one else.”
“Bullshit,” he says, leaning in as though he can’t resist it. “You’re going to call Rowan.”
“How do you know?”
“Because of the crease in your brow here.” He presses his finger to my forehead, smoothing away the crease in question. “I know you, Paige. You want to assure your friend that you’re okay.”
“She deserves to know! She won’t tell anyone. I promise.”
“You can’t make that promise. And even if Rowan swears on her mother’s grave, I’m not about to take her word for it. Not with your life on the line.”
“But—”
“No buts,” he growls. “We’re done here.”
Then he pushes me off him and walks around his desk.
“You can’t control everything, Misha! I get it, okay? You lost Maksim, so now, you think that if you follow your rules and control everything and everyone around you, you can prevent the same thing from happening again. But life doesn’t work that way.”
He whips around, jaw set. “How thefuckwould you know? You’ve never been responsible for anything or anyone in your entire life.”
“I was responsible for Clara!”
“Yeah. And she’s fuckingdead.”
I stop short. Just like that, the fight drains out of me. I have nothing to say back. No defense, no excuse, no explanation.
Because he’s right.
He’s right.
