I blink at him, slowly, my lips pressed into a thin line. I refuse to give him anything.
His smirk widens like I’ve just confirmed everything he thinks he knows about me.
He leans in closer, his breath brushing against my cheek.
God, I’m going to be fucking sick.
“Come on,” he whispers, his eyes glistening with something vile. “You can’t always be this quiet. Or do you only speak when you’re on your knees?”
I let out a sharp gasp. The blood drains from my face, and cold dread sweeps through my stomach. I grip the arm of the chair hard until my knuckles turn white.
His hand slides across the table, landing on my thigh, as he grips it. His fingers curl around the soft fabric of my skirt, pressing down.
“I heard you’ve got an attitude,” he says, digging his fingers into my thigh. “Your daddy said you needed taming. I like that, it gives me something to break.”
I try to pull away, but his fingers dig in harder, locking me in place like I’m something he’s claimed.
A low chuckle slips past his lips. “Don’t be a bitch, sweetheart. Let’s not pretend this is anything other than what it is. You’re not here for charm. You’re here because your daddy signed a deal—and lucky me, I get the prettier end of the bargain.”
His hand inches higher, slowly, like he wants me to feel every inch of his control. My skin prickles, and I have to contain myself not to gag. I shift in my seat, trying to dislodge his grip without making a scene, but he squeezes tighter, his fingers cruel now.
“Look at you,” he whispers, his mouth too close to my ear, as he tightens the grip on my thigh. “Wearing a tight skirt for a man you’ve never even touched. Sitting here like a good little girl while your father auctions you off like a fucking car lease. You’re not a bride, baby. You’re a branded fuck toy. And I’m going to ruin you.”
I-I can’t. I’m going to be fucking sick.
Breathe, Catalina. Just breathe.
His lips skim the shell of my ear. I wince, but he doesn’t stop. “Here’s how this is gonna go,” he whispers, inching his hand up my skirt. “You’ll smile when the cameras flash. You’ll kiss me like you mean it. And later on, when we’re alone, when I peel off your clothes and put your mouth to good use, you’ll thank me for giving your pathetic little life meaning.”
I turn to him, my vision blurring with heat, with rage, with red.He grins, and beneath the table, he shifts, grabbing my hand—his thumb brushes over my knuckles with this mockery of tenderness, a twisted imitation of affection.
“Be a good girl,” he says quietly, his lips just a breath away from mine. “Try not to act like you’re just a pretty little hole with a price tag. Be a good wife, yeah?”
I rip my hand away, jerking my head back. The legs of my chair scrape loudly across the polished floor, the sound lashes through the space, violent and impossible to ignore.
Everyone looks up. Vartan gives me one warning glance, his eyes telling me not to fuck this up for him. I swallow the lump in my throat, and I swallow all my emotions down inside me. All the fucking rage, sadness, disgust and the fucking terror.
Chase reclines in his chair beside me, stretching out like this is a casual negotiation, like he didn’t just make me feel like nothing. He laughs under his breath, satisfied.
Mike glances between us, then offers me a thin, diplomatic smile. “Catalina, are you comfortable with the timeline?”
Are you fucking kidding me? Comfortable?
I stare straight ahead, my mouth opens to say something, but nothing comes out.
Carter, I fucking need you.
Vartan clears his throat, smiling like this is all going perfectly.
“She’s thrilled.”
catalina
. . .
Idon’t look at my father, I can’t.
My body’s too rigid, and my stomach fucking hurts. Vartan sits beside me like nothing’s wrong. He adjusts the cuffs of his overpriced suit with slow, practiced care; the air around him reeks of designer cologne and detachment.
