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“Did you know?” This time the question is loud and demanding. “Don’t speak to your mother in that tone.” I whip around to see my father standing behind me, arms crossed, wearing a fierce expression. He’s never directed that look at me before. I’m the quiet daughter. The dutiful one. But this?
“I don’t give a fuck how powerful you think you are. If you ever touch my wife again, I’ll slit your throat and bury your body where no one will ever find it. Do you understand?” he growls.
My blood continues to boil over the fact that Donnelly hit my wife. Business arrangement or not, in our family, wives are treated with respect, and marriage is a sacred vow. One you do not break. No one touches a Brooklyn Kings’ wife. That piece of paper we just signed makes Brenna mine. According to our law, I have every right to kill a man who lays a hand on her. I need to get her grandfather out of my sight before I put him in the ground.
I’d caught a brief glimpse of her family’s living quarters. This time, I take more than a cursory glance around the place. I can tell this is a true home. Family photos line the walls. There’s a lived-in look to it. It’s warm and inviting. My mother would have loved it. I clear my throat and shift my gaze back to my wife.
The picture I’d seen before the wedding hadn’t done her justice. The flare of awareness that sparked from her touch when she’d taken my hands during the ceremony and later, the pen, still makes my fingertips tingle. I’m not supposed to be attracted to her. It will only lead to complications.
My gaze darts around my room taking in the few boxes and carrying cases I have. It’s hard to imagine that my entire life can fill so little space. I’ve never been into fashion, unlike other young women my age, so I don’t have a closet full of clothes or shoes. Despite all our money, I don’t think I’ve ever splurged on anything. There’s been nothing I’ve needed, really, beyond my books.
I draw more courage from the dark. “Respect. Honesty. Communication.” I take in a shaky breath. “I don’t expect love, but…” Beside me Jacob’s body goes rigid. I can’t even tell if he’s breathing. “But?” I hear the dread in his voice. The gruff wariness. Can he hear the lie in mine? Am I stupid to expect love in my marriage, especially since we’re still strangers who know nothing of one another? I have to give him something, though. “But I hope for caring. Someday, maybe.’’
Brenna smacks the frying pan down onto the stovetop and whirls on me. This whole time I’ve been contributing the flush of her cheeks to embarrassment, but the fire spitting from her Irish green eyes tells me it’s rage coloring them. “She’s not here at the moment, and most likely won’t return any time soon. Not as long as she has a husband who would rather not touch her and who uses his own hand for pleasure instead of using his perfectly willing wife.”
My eyes land on the dresser, and a wave of guilt floods me. My marriage isn’t supposed to be like this. It’s meant to be an alliance between two families to destroy a mutually hated enemy. I am not supposed to be attracted to my wife. To find her intelligent, kind-hearted, brave, fascinating. Most of all, I’m not supposed to like her and enjoy her company.
Ignoring the man behind me, I take several paces toward our other prisoner. “I recommend you disregard your friend’s advice to keep your mouth shut. I’m not a man of patience.”
Fucking Christ. I can’t remember being this turned on before. My innocent, virgin wife is thoroughly seducing me. Brenna’s tiny stutter earlier over the word badass had been adorable.
If I hadn’t been so attuned to her words, I might have missed it. Her declaring herself my wife, as a point of pride, had made me hard as a rock. It had taken far more control than I ever thought I possessed to not sweep everything off the kitchen table and take her right then and there.
“Did you mean that?” I ask on a whisper. “Mean what?” “That you’d kill anyone who touched me?” I should be horrified at the thought, yet I can’t find it in me. “You are my wife. I’d burn the world to ash for you.”