Chapter 4 - Beatrice #2
“It’s not like I’ve chosen to be here,” I snapped. “So there’s no way I’m following any of your ground rules, whatever that means.”
“I wish life were that simple,” he chuckled. “But you are my wife, which means there are wifely duties to be followed.”
My eyebrows shot up at his sheer audacity. “Excuse me?”
“Your wifely duties,” he repeated, his face perfectly serious. “I have expectations.”
“If you think for one second that I’m going to sleep with you—”
“I expect you to stay in the house,” he interrupted. “Be good. Stay out of my family’s affairs and get yourself acquainted with the staff since you’re the mistress of the house now.”
My mouth flung open. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am completely serious,” he continued. “I expect fresh flowers in the foyer weekly. They improve the ambiance.”
“F…flowers?” I sputtered. “You want me to get you fucking flowers?”
“I can get you some too, if you like,” he grinned.
My eyes slit down in anger. “Show me to my room.”
“I’m not done yet.” He kept that stupid grin on. “As a wife, you’ll also need to accompany me to social functions, smile at my company, and generally behave like you don’t want to murder me in my sleep.”
“This isn’t the nineteenth century, you misogynistic asshole!” I exploded. “I’m not your servant or your arm candy!”
“I believe my expectations are perfectly justified for a wife.” He cocked his head.
“I don’t arrange flowers or handle household staff,” I said flatly. “I’m an accountant, not a maid.”
“You’ll learn,” he said with such infuriating confidence that it did me in. The mild temper I felt was now a full-on volcanic eruption.
“Like hell I will! I’ll burn your shirts. I’ll poison your food. I’ll put itching powder in your underwear.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “Thinking about my underwear already, princess?”
Just the way he flipped that conversation made me freeze and my heart race. He was too close, looking down at me with those same intense eyes that had made me weak-kneed back at the club.
“You’re disgusting.”
He laughed again, and it made me want to punch him.
“Well, that’s the first time a woman’s called me disgusting,” he said. “Now, as I was saying, your duties include—”
“I’m not sleeping with you,” I interrupted, needing to make that crystal clear. “Ever. I don’t care what that paper says. You can’t force me to—”
“I don’t recall mentioning that as a duty,” he said quietly.
“You didn’t have to. The implication was clear when you said ‘wifely duties.’”
He stepped closer again, and I held my ground, refusing to be intimidated. He smelled good, and it made my body remember how it felt to be in his arms during my panic attack.
“Beatrice,” he said softly. “If we ever sleep together, it won’t be because of duty. It will be because you want it as much as I do.”
My mouth went dry, and I knew I’d do whatever it took to prove him wrong. “That will never happen.”
“We’ll see,” he shrugged. “Now, other rules. Don’t even try to escape because the grounds are secured and monitored, and there’s no point trying to contact your family. All communications are tracked.”
“You can’t keep me from my family!”
“Oh, watch me,” he challenged back. “You’ll have access to the entire house and grounds, and the staff will be at your disposal during the day. The only things you can’t do are leave or make contact with the outside world.”
“Let’s say I don’t contact anyone. What’s to stop my family from coming for me?” I nearly shook with anger.
His expression hardened. “They don’t know where you are. And if they try anything stupid, I’ll make sure they regret it.”
“You do realize who my brothers are, right?” I asked incredulously. “They’ll tear this city apart looking for me, and they’ll know where I went. I’m sure they’ll have access to the CCTV footage from the club.”
“I’ve had that footage dealt with already,” he said. “And even if they discover I have you, it’ll be wise for them to remember that I’m quite powerful too. Trust me, princess, they won’t be coming in guns blazing. At least, not if they value their lives.”
The casual way he threatened my family made my blood boil. I stepped forward, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Listen to me, you arrogant prick. If you hurt my family, I will end you. I don’t know how, but I will make you suffer in ways you can’t even imagine.”
Instead of being intimidated like I wanted him to be, his eyes lit up with what looked like delight. “There she is. The fire I saw at the club.”
I realized with horror that he was enjoying this verbal spar. It was all a game to him.
“You’re sick in the head,” I said, stepping back.
“Maybe,” he agreed. “But you’re stuck with me, Mrs. Pavlov.”
The reminder of my new, unwanted status as his wife was the end of any and all attempts at communicating with this man. I’d had enough of his smug face, his rules, and his goddamn confidence.
“I need to be alone,” I said, my voice ice cold. “Now.”
“Of course,” he said softly. “Let me show you to your room.”
“I’ll find it myself,” I snapped, turning to leave the living room.
“Second floor, third door on the right,” he called after me, not bothering to follow. “It’s been prepared for you.”
I stormed up the staircase, found my way straight to my room, and slammed the door shut behind me. Only then, when he couldn’t see how utterly he’s fucked my life up, did I let myself cry.