“Touch me, and I swear you’ll die in your sleep,” she mutters with vitriol. “Being dead would be preferable to being married to an ugly, selfish cow like you,” I say. It’s like a game. One insult is traded for another until we’re both satisfied. “You mean nothing to me.” “Good!” she snaps. “Then I’ll just go back down to Liam.” She tries to move away, but I yank her back toward me. When I do, I spot a hint of moisture in her eyes. Something I said hit a nerve. “Over my dead body,” I bellow. She swings an arm out toward me. I snatch it at the wrist before it can make contact with my face.
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