"I wouldn't have had to escape if you hadn't imprisoned me here in the first place!" she counters, backing away as I advance toward her. "You left. Without telling me, without discussing it. What was I supposed to do, just sit here like an obedient pet waiting for its master to return?"
"You were supposed to trust that I had a reason for leaving," I respond, closing the distance between us until her back hits the wall. "That I was handling something important for our future."
"What could possibly be so important that you'd leave without even telling me?" The question holds genuine curiosity beneath the anger.
For a moment, I consider telling her about my meeting with Richard, about ensuring he'll never interfere in our lives again. But that would only feed her narrative about my controlling nature. Instead, I focus on what matters now.
"That's irrelevant compared to what you just did," I say, placing my hands on the wall on either side of her head, caging her with my body. "You could have died out there, Seraphina. Both of you."
Something in my voice—the raw edge of genuine fear—seems to penetrate her anger. Her expression shifts, surprise flashing across her features.
"You're really scared," she observes, studying my face with newfound awareness. "You're not just angry that I defied you. You're actually afraid."
"Of course I'm afraid!" The admission tears from me with unexpected force. "Do you think I rescued you from that farce of a wedding, brought you here, claimed you again just to lose you to the fucking ocean because you're too stubborn to accept what we both know is true?"
She blinks, startled by the intensity of my response. "I wasn't trying to?—"
"You weren't thinking," I cut her off, leaning closer until our faces are inches apart. "About yourself, about our baby, about what it would do to me if something happened to you. You were so focused on defying me, on proving your independence, that you risked everything that matters."
Her lips part, but no argument comes. Instead, she simply stares at me, as if seeing something new in my expression, something that challenges her perception of my motivations.
"I will not lose you," I continue, my voice dropping to a dangerous register. "Not to another man, not to your own stubborn pride, and certainly not to some ill-conceived escape attempt. If I have to tie you to this bed until you understand that, I will."
Her eyes widen, her breath catching audibly. "You wouldn't dare."
"Test me and find out." I'm deadly serious, and she knows it. "I am not above using any means necessary to keep you and our child safe, Seraphina. Even if that means protecting you from your own reckless decisions."
"That's insane," she whispers, but there's a waver in her voice that betrays the effect my words—and proximity—are having on her. "You can't just tie me up because I tried to leave."
"I can and I will if that's what it takes." I move one hand from the wall to cup her face, forcing her to maintain eye contact. "Do you have any idea what it would do to me if something happened to you? To our child? Can you even comprehend what you mean to me?"
The question hangs between us, heavy with a vulnerability I rarely allow myself to show. Seraphina's expression softens almost imperceptibly, something like realization dawning in her eyes.
"Knox..." She begins, then stops, as if unsure how to respond to this glimpse beneath my controlled exterior.
"I've built an empire worth billions," I continue, my thumb tracing the delicate line of her jaw. "Created technology that's changed how the world functions. Been called brilliant, ruthless, unstoppable. But none of it—nothing I've accomplished, nothing I own, nothing I've built—means anything compared to you. To our child. You are everything, Seraphina. Everything."
A small sound escapes her, something between a gasp and a sigh. Her hands, which had been pressed flat against the wall,come up to rest against my chest. Not pushing me away, just feeling my heartbeat beneath her palms.
"You can't keep me prisoner here," she says, but the fire has gone out of her words, replaced by something more complicated. "That's not love, Knox. That's possession."
"It's protection," I counter. "And yes, possession too. I won't apologize for that. You're mine to protect, mine to cherish, mine to keep safe. If that means restraining you until you stop fighting what we both know is right, so be it."
"And what about what I want?" she challenges, though her body betrays her, softening against mine despite her verbal resistance. "Doesn't that matter at all?"
"What you want and what you need are often different things," I reply, bringing my other hand to her waist, feeling the slight curve that will soon show evidence of our child. "You want freedom without consequences. Independence without responsibility. The ability to run whenever things get too intense, too real, too demanding."
"That's not fair," she protests weakly.
"What you need," I continue as if she hadn't spoken, "is security. Stability. Someone who won't let you sabotage your own happiness out of fear. Someone who sees all of you—the strong, independent gallery director and the woman who craves being completely possessed. Someone who loves both versions equally."
"And you think that's you?" There's vulnerability in the question, a genuine uncertainty that pierces through my anger.
"I know it's me," I answer without hesitation. "Just like I know you're pregnant with my child. Just like I know you belong here, with me, building our future together. Some truths are immutable, Seraphina. Fighting them only causes pain."
Her eyes search mine, looking for something—deception, perhaps, or manipulation. Finding none, because there is none.Everything I've said is the unvarnished truth. I would tie her to this bed, would lock her in this room, would do whatever it takes to keep her safe. Not out of cruelty or a desire to control, but out of a love so consuming it terrifies even me with its intensity.
"I can't live in a cage," she whispers, "even a gilded one. Even for you. Even for our child."
