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Pushing his chair back and rising, Finn holds out a hand for me.
I don’t take it.
“Haven,” he warns. “Let’s go.”
“Be nice, dear,” his mother coos. “It’s been a big day for her, and I’m sure she’s tired.”
She seriously has no idea.
But giving in—because I don’t want to sit here all night and argue while making skeptical of myself—I take Finn’s outreached hand, and he gently helps me out of my chair.
He doesn’t spare his mother another look as he slowly guides me to the empty dance floor, then stops in the middle to wrap his hand around my waist and pulls me to him.
I look into his chest because I don’t know what else to do.
I don’t want this.
I really don’t prefer to think of the reminders of what we’ve done to each other either. This is like a nightmare that keeps going on and on without an inkling of letting up on me.
However, now that Finn has gotten his way, I’m hoping that he’ll spend his time elsewhere so that I can plan my escape.
“I’m not feeling very loved here,” he vouches. That deep octave of his voice sending a rippling effect of both annoyance and anticipation. “You won’t even look at me, wife.”
“Stop callin’ me that,” I chide lightly. “You don’t have toactas though we wanted to be married when we’re alone.”
“But I like the name,” he retorts. “It reminds both you and I that you’re mine.”
That statement has me rearing back to a place I feel more comfortable in—hatred.
Peeling my gaze off his chest, I glance up at him and scowl passed how absolutely attractive he looks tonight. “And if I called you husband, then what?”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
I lift a brow. “Why?”
“Because it might get you slammed against a wall because I’ll think you want me.”
I scoff through his delusional mindset. “You must’ve gotten hit too many times in the head over the years.”
“Maybe.” His mouth curves into a smirk. “However, it’s taken no effect on my cock.”
“Stoptalking to me like I’m your whore.”
“No, it’s even better, my love. You’re my wife.” My fingers curl in irritation, but it only squeezes Finn’s hand, causing him to chuckle. “Does that make you upset?”
“It makes me sick.”
“That’s not how I remember it.” He leans forward, the smell of leather and patchouli filling my nostrils. “I recall every single one of those sweet little moans, Haven. The way you squeezed my cock so tightly…” He inhales, and I’m not sure if it’s to keep his composure or if he’s trying to smell me. “I could reward you with it if you’d just relax and do what you’re told.”
“Like a servant.”
A tick in his jaw alludes that he’s starting to get annoyed. “Like mywife.”
“We’re not in the 50s anymore,” I return. “And I’m definitely not a woman who chose this. I was forced into it. So, if you want my loyalty, Finnegan, and everything that has to come with it…you’re going to have to earn it.”
“Or I’m going to justtakeit,” he leers. “Don’t mistake my kindness when I fucked you for weakness, Haven. The way I really wanted to fuck you would’ve definitely thrown you over that window sill.”
I’m proud of myself for keeping my poker face on when I reply, “I’m still counting that as a weakness because, no matterhowyou wanted to fuck me, you still did. So don’t mistake myacceptingit for wanting it. Because they’ll never be a day in hell where I dream about you where I’m not stabbing you multiple times.”
