Antonio’s jaw twitches. “I thought we could settle on civility.”
“I’m repeating myself,” Lachlan says, dismissive. “You’ll take the deal. That’s all.”
Antonio doesn’t argue. He must know by now what things are going to look like. And he can’t really fight us—not when I have Rose with me, one hand on her as a warning to the both of them.
I try to focus on the back-and-forth, but my eye is inevitably drawn back to Rose. She looks just the same as I remember her, but so different in so many little ways. She has the same blonde hair, but it’s longer now, more natural, falling in loose waves.
Her cheekbones are more pronounced, the roundness in her face even and soft. She no longer has the babyish look of a teenager. She is a woman now, her features in perfect balance.
Rose glances at me. I can almost feel the static between us when our eyes meet for a fleeting moment. It’s there and then gone, but the tension is immense.
I remind myself this is business. I want something from Antonio. It’s why I’m here.
Lachlan and Antonio go back and forth, but Antonio knows he has to give in. I try not to watch Rose but end up gazing at her anyway. Relief is clear in her face when her father calls for the check. She’s barely touched any of her food.
I rise with my brothers, and Rose starts to move away toward her father.
Something sharp rises up in me in response to her leaving my side. It tastes sour on my tongue, some combination of desperation, anger, and desire tangling together.
I reach out and pull her back to me in a sharp movement. “You’re coming with me.”
Her eyes widen. “What? Right now?”
Antonio glares at me. I wonder what it must be like for him—his daughter only just returned, and now I have her. She’s a pawn.
All because of his mistakes.
“Is that necessary?”
Glancing at him, I cock an eyebrow. “You’ve made it necessary.”
“I’m afraid there’s no other way,” Lachlan says coolly. “But you know this.”
“This is the deal you made,” I say, turning my focus to Rose. “Starting now, you’re mine. You may not have a ring on your finger yet, but we’ll fix that soon.”
“This is—” Rose stops, her gaze flicking to her father. She might be thinking about her promise, about what could happen to him if she goes back on it. Finally, she licks her lips and then nods. “All right. I’ll go with you.”
“Rose…” Antonio’s jaw is tight, his entire body tense.
“Goodbye, Dad,” she murmurs. It sounds like the last thing she’ll ever say to him.
There’s a storm raging in me. This is what I wanted. I wanted her to hurt, wanted the same pain I suffered to course through her veins. But hearing her say goodbye makes something tighten in my chest.
I don’t want to think about it.
So I don’t, turning and pulling Rose toward the door. She holds her chin up the whole way and follows me to my car, staying put when I shut the door on her side.
She’s agitated as I slide into the driver’s seat and start the car. Restless energy radiates from her as I drive, and from the corner of my eye, I can see her leg jittering, as if she’s itching to move.
Keeping my gaze trained on the road, I reach out and rest a hand on her leg, stilling the small movements. The silk under my palm is warm from resting against her skin, and even though it’s incredibly soft, I know her skin would be softer.
Fuck. I wanted this to feel like a taunt, a reminder of who she belongs to now—but I almost feel like I’m taunting myself, giving myself a small taste of what I know I should no longer crave.
Rose stiffens, her breath catching. Then she reaches down and shoves my hand away, scooting over a little on the seat to create more distance between us.
“I’m not yours yet,” she bites out.
“Yes, you are.”
