Phoenix stands near the fireplace, a crystal tumbler of amber liquid in his hand. He freezes mid-conversation when he sees me, his eyes darkening as they travel slowly from my face down the length of my body. The hunger in his gaze is unmistakable, and I hate the way my body responds to it, a traitorous flutter low in my belly.
He doesn’t love you, I remind myself. Maybe he never did.
"There she is," he announces, voice carrying through the room. "My bride-to-be."
He moves to me, extending his hand. I have no choice but to take it, his fingers closing around mine with possessive strength.
"You look magnificent," he murmurs, just loud enough for those nearby to hear. His thumb traces circles on my palm. "Red suits you. The color of passion." His eyes flick down to the neckline of my dress. "The color of power."
"I'm glad you approve," I reply, keeping my voice neutral despite the rage simmering beneath my skin.
Phoenix pulls me closer, his lips brushing my ear. "You were born to be a queen, Keira. My queen." His breath is hot againstmy skin. "Though I never imagined you'd embrace the role so eagerly."
“Eager isn’t the word I’d use.” I try to step back, but his arm snakes around my waist, keeping me pressed against him.
"You've always looked good in expensive things," he continues, fingers splaying across my lower back where the dress dips dangerously low. "Though I think you'd look even better wearing nothing but my name."
Someone nearby chuckles, and I realize we have an audience. Of course we do. This is exactly what Phoenix wanted, to display me like a conquered territory, marked and claimed.
"Smile, darling," he whispers. "Everyone's watching the future Mrs. Ifrinn."
I feel dozens of eyes on me as Phoenix guides me through the room, his hand possessively at the small of my back. The thin fabric offers no barrier between his touch and my skin. I force my face into a pleasant mask, refusing to let him see how much this humiliates me.
"Keira, you remember my brothers," Phoenix says, stopping before a small group near the fireplace.
Ten years ago, they were all around my age. Today I see grown men, hardened, and yet, not as bitter as Phoenix.
“This is Flint,” Phoenix introduces. Flint, covered with more tattoos than I remember, stands with his arm around a petite blonde woman with intelligent eyes. “And his wife Lucy. Her articles haven’t been very complimentary about you and your family.”
Lucy glances at Phoenix with disapproving eyes but then smiles when she turns to me. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too.” I look to Flint. “I’m so glad to see you alive and well.”
Flint nods. “Thank you, Keira.”
“You remember Blaise, Flint’s twin.”
Blaise is different from his twin with his blond hair and green eyes. He’s holding hands with a pregnant woman whose face I recognize immediately.
"Jenna?"
Jenna’s smile is hesitant. "Hello, Miss Keira."
“You don’t work for her anymore,” Blaise says, but kindly. Not in the way Phoenix might demean me.
“Please, call me Keira. How is your mother?” I remember Jenna’s mother had a serious health condition. It had shocked me that my family had provided for her and Jenna… until I realized that they'd used Jenna in their plan to kill the Ifrinns. My parents didn’t care about Jenna and her mother. They cared about keeping them controlled and quiet.
“She’s very well thanks to Blaise.” She looks up at him with pure, unadulterated love. My heart squeezes knowing I’d once felt that for Phoenix. I understand now that it was a childish love. How could I ever love a man who could treat me like this?
“And congratulations. I heard you’re married.”
She leans toward Blaise. “Yes. Life takes unexpected turns."
Phoenix's grip tightens on my waist. "Quite unexpected. Like finding out your fiancée's family murdered yours."
An uncomfortable silence falls.
Lucy clears her throat. "Dinner should be interesting."
