Utterly disregarding the man gasping for breath, my husband turns, and in a blink, he’s standing before me. He towers over me, and I have to crane my neck to look up at him. A shadow of brutality lingers in his eyes. He reaches out, and despite myself, I flinch…again. He merely picks up the pen my grandfather dropped and holds it out to me. “Our marriage is a business arrangement, so I understand your being opposed to it. Neither of us wants this, but one thing I can promise is that I will never lay hands on you in anger.” I shiver at his gruff tone.
