Chapter 14
fourteen
ROSE
I expected Dare to cage me in like a rabid animal, but the front door unlocked when I tested it. Though freedom is within my reach, escaping would mean staying in a constant state of anxiety, waiting for Dare to hand the evidence over to the NYPD.
So I stay. It’s Saturday, and while I’d usually go out and do something nice for myself, I’m not up for...well, anything, really. Surprising enough, my head is clear. I should probably be experiencing some type of remorse about Eric’s death, but all I feel is relief in knowing he’ll never again pose a threat to me or any other woman.
I tear through closet after closet, cabinet after cabinet, drawer after drawer, trying to find the murder weapon, but ultimately, I come up empty. Dare must’ve taken the knife with him, which isn’t good. There’s no telling where he might hide it. Eventually, hunger drives me from my search and into the kitchen. Dare has secrets. He knows the worst of mine and he’s using it against me. Figuring out what to hold against him will level the playing field. It’ll give me an opportunity to find a way out of our soon to be marriage .
Anger simmers in my chest, and the cool air from the fridge does nothing to cool me off. I grab what I need to make myself a snack and slam the door closed.
Marriage. What a bunch of bullshit.
While I know most people in my world find themselves married for convenience or money, I’ve always clung to the promise Dad made me. I believed him. My eyes mist, but I blink the tears and betrayal away and turn to an easy target—Dare. The bakery. There’s still something there, I’m sure of it. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to want to escape. This might be my one chance to find something real to use against him.
There’s no guarantee that my dad won’t marry me off to the next man he wants to use, and I’d feel obligated to go along, because I love him and he’s the only family I have left.
The front door snicks shut. If I marry Dare, it eliminates the possibility of being used to someone else’s advantage and may still give my dad exactly what he wants—better information to take Dare down.
Speaking of the devil. He appears in the kitchen, eyebrows raised as he takes in the mess I’ve made. The man has no right making a simple pair of dark-wash jeans and a blue Henley look so good. His eyes lift to meet mine. “Find what you were looking for?”
“No, but I will.”
His gaze flashes with exasperation. The irritation slips behind a hard mask, and Dare stares at me, eyes no longer glimmering with amusement.
“There’s the beast,” I murmur.
He storms toward me, and I spin in the bar chair, refusing to have my back to him. I pick up a strawberry and take a bite, carefully studying his approach, noting the loose way he carries his body, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Dare places his palms on either side of me on the counter, trapping me in place. This seems to be a favorite move of his.
I ignore the flutter of excitement in my belly. “Did you have a good day, honey?”
“Rose,” he breathes my name. “Stay out of my stuff.”
My smile deepening, I stare up at him, propping my elbows on the counter as he looms over me. The hard lines on his brow are so deep, they have to hurt. Before I can think better of it, I reach up and smooth my thumb over his forehead.
“What’s the saying?” I ask, drawing my hand down to grip his chin exactly how he held mine last night. “What’s yours is mine.”
A deep, rumbling growl fills the space between us, making me wonder if he isn’t part beast after all.
And because I like to piss him off, I lean up and brush my lips over his. “Husband.”
I quickly pull away, but Dare’s hand wraps around my throat and holds me in place, our mouths centimeters apart.
“Careful, princess.”
“More idle threats?” I glare at him and he scowls.
“It’s like you were made to drive me mad.”
“It must be fate, then.” I brush my nose over his. “Because I hate you,” I whisper. “Now, let me go.”
His fingers flex on my throat—almost like he’s contemplating choking me—but then he releases me and takes two steps back, chest heaving, eyes searching my face in that vicious way of his. The way he studies me, like he’s trying to figure out my breaking points, unsettles me. I don’t like him trying to figure me out or believing he understands any part of me. I don’t want to think of him as anything other than a monster. Trouble is, I’ve already started.
My heart is slamming against my rib cage, but I keep my expression flat, devoid of emotion.
Dare narrows his eyes. “I bought you a dress. The wedding is at six.”
A line forms above my nose. “What?”
“The. Wedding. Is. At. Six.”
Annoyance pricks along my skin. If only I had the strength of mind to kill another man... But as much as I despise Dare, I can’t say he deserves the same fate as Eric.
“I’m. Not. Stupid.” I push off the stool and march over to him. “We can’t get married tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because...” I search for a valid reason. I need more time to mentally prepare. I need to tell my dad, but that’s probably why Dare is in a rush.
The only person in the world who might care enough to step in and stop this is my father. Even then, there’s no guarantee he’d stop Dare. He promised you’d never be forced into a marriage. Who’s to say he won’t also break his promise to always protect you from the monsters?
The thought steals the air from my lungs. I’ve never thought about my dad like this. He’s always been my person. My hero. I was his little girl, but now I feel as though I’m nothing but another one of his corporate tools.
My throat tightens.
“ I’m waiting for a good reason,” Dare drawls. Whether he realizes it or not, Dare’s timing has pulled me out of my head before the thoughts get too heavy more than once .
“Because,” I begin again, glancing at the minimalistic calendar hanging on the fridge. “It’s a full moon. Bad luck.”
He grins and it’s beautiful and I hate him even more for it. “Here I thought witches liked that.”
Asshole. “One of these days, I’m going to find a way to hurt you.”
His expression darkens. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, wife .”
The way he says that word does something strange to my insides. It’s possessive. Dangerous. Domineering. And instead of it making my insides curdle, they warm. Head to toe, my body tingles with the unspoken promises of what it would mean to be married to him.
If we were different people, marrying someone like him would provide safety.
But our families hate one another.
“Let’s get it over with,” I finally say, taking a step away. The sooner the ceremony is over, the sooner I can find a way to destroy him.
“Absolutely not,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring at Dare.
His present lies spread across his bed. A slinky white thong and matching bra. An obnoxiously short cocktail dress. Pretty three-inch silver heels that lace up. And a soft white veil. Dare is perched on the edge of the bed, mirth dancing in his eyes as he takes in my reaction.
“They’re your size.”
I scoff. “Like that makes it better. How do you even know my size?”
That was the wrong thing to say. His gaze lazily tracks over my body, shimmering with appreciation, and heat shoots through me in response. I work out, sure, but I also eat cookies and enjoy bread with my pasta. My body is curvy, my hips and ass full, tits a generous C-cup. Though my stomach and thighs are more soft than hard, that doesn’t seem to bother him.
By the time his eyes meet mine again, there’s a strange sort of hunger in the depths of his irises. One that I recognize. We may hate each other, but there’s no denying our attraction. There’s no ignoring the tension sizzling between us. We’re set on a collision course, and my will is all that will stop it from happening.
“Put it on,” he demands.
“Fuck you.”
His responding chuckle makes my pussy clench. “We have to say ‘I do,’ first.”
“You’re delusional if you think either of those things are happening.” And even as I say it, I know it’s a lie. The longer I’m around him, the more I wonder what it would be like to let him ravage me. Which is a major problem. I should be repulsed by him.
“We’re going to be late, and if we miss our appointment, I’ll be dropping you off at the police station instead.”
Any attraction I felt dies as his threat lands against my chest, a solid impact that has me stepping back. “Fine. Get out.”
I expect him to tell me no, to force me to change in front of him, but he pushes off the bed and stalks past me, pausing long enough to trace his finger down my arm. Gooseflesh chases his touch, my skin desperate for more.
“Don’t try anything stupid,” he warns.
Stupid, like stabbing you in the eye with my heel?
“Out. Now,” I demand .
He leaves, and I swear I can hear him laughing inside his head, enjoying my irritation. I have to stop giving him the satisfaction. There’s something about him that brings out the worst in me. I can’t control myself like I should. I feed into the bickering. That stops now.
Glaring down at the bed, I study the outfit. The dress is by my favorite designer, and while it’s short, it’s in a style that will flatter my form. Strapless and tight, with ruched fabric on one side that shoots out like sunbursts at the hips and breast. The thong and bra are...also cute, but I’m not wearing those.
A knock sounds at the door.
I scowl at it and mutter asshole under my breath before stripping, leaving my black thong on. The dress has built-in cups, which means there’s no reason to use the bra Dare bought for me. Silky as it glides over my skin, the dress molds to my body, a perfect fit that sours my mood.
This would be easier if he had picked out something ugly.
The zipper is too hard to get on my own. The asshole probably planned that, another way to put me at his mercy.
I walk over to the mirror attached to the closet door, staring at myself with a scowl. The dress is amazing. I look hot, but the underwear is too dark. Vanity has me reaching beneath the silk and gliding my thong down my legs, dropping it into Dare’s laundry basket. Turning back and forth, I tell myself it’s only to make sure I don’t embarrass myself in public, not because I’m admiring the dress. It’ll take more than a pretty outfit to win me over.
The zipper stops above my ass, and all the important bits are covered. I definitely won’t be bending over. Taking a deep breath, I march to the door and yank it open, glaring at Dare. His forehead rests on his arm, which is propped on the threshold. As he stares down at me, it’s not hate I find in his gaze.
“I need your help,” I snap, turning and walking back into the room, ignoring how my body is fully aware of him prowling after me. Instead of stopping behind me to zip up the dress, he drops into the chair beside the bed and looks at me with mirth dancing in his gaze.
“Must you be difficult?” I ask.
His lips twitch. “Come here.” More of his games.
Fine. I can play too. Scooping up the heels, I hold them at my side and slowly make my way toward him, letting my hips sway more than necessary, and his gaze immediately drops.
Smug satisfaction blooms inside my chest. I stop in front of him, waiting until his eyes lift from my hips, trail over the curve of my breasts, and finally meet mine before turning around and sitting in his lap.
I thought I’d surprise him, but his hands glide over my ass to grip my hips, like he was prepared for this all along. Heat scorching through my body, I straighten my back, waiting for him to zip the dress. His fingers trail along the fabric, and even though there are layers of material separating me from his touch, a shiver floats down my spine. His knuckles brushing against the top of my ass, he drags the zipper up, stopping to push my hair over one shoulder. The soft graze of his hand has electricity dancing along my skin. The action would be tender, if not for the extortion hanging between us.
His body is tense beneath me. As soon as he finishes zipping the dress, I reach down and slip on each heel. The movement pushes my ass into his rapidly hardening length. Now that’s a big cock . Swallowing, I force myself to finish what I started, standing and ignoring the way his hands find my ass and hips again, unnecessarily assisting me.
Dare is doing this on purpose. Trying to drive me mad with desire.
Luckily, I’m not the only one who has more than hate on the mind.
I turn to face him, ready to meet his glare, but his eyes are hooded as he runs his teeth over his lower lip.
Stupid, gorgeous asshole.
He starts to lean forward, almost like he’s coming to get me.
“Not so fast.” With a haughty smirk, I lift my foot and push my heel into his chest, forcing him back in the seat.
Attention dropping to my foot, I swear Dare almost chuckles. He glances at me through his eyelashes, tongue dashing out to wet his lips, and then focuses on lacing up the heel. He hasn’t noticed I’m not wearing underwear yet.
A cruel sort of desire slithers through me. When he’s done tying the heel, I say, “Kiss it.”
“Excuse me?”
“Kiss my foot.” I lift my eyebrows in challenge.
“All right, princess.” He lowers his lips to my foot, ghosting them over my skin in a way that makes tingles shoot through my body. And then his eyes slip up my leg and snare on my bare cunt. The fingers on my ankle flex. A giddy sense of power swells in my chest as the beast is left speechless. His gaze shoots to the bed, where the thong he bought still lies, then flies up to meet mine.
“We can’t be late,” I remind him, tugging my ankle out of his grasp.
His fingers are slow to let me go, and this time, when I push the second heel into his chest, his eyes devour me, hooding even farther. Dare takes his time tying the laces, drawing out the moment until my chest is rising and falling. Surely, he’s seen women naked before.
And then, he drops his lips to the top of my foot, gazing up at me with a threat of retribution shimmering in his rich brown irises.
Heat crawls up my neck.
He releases my foot.
I stand on wobbly legs, my throat dry as he rises, closing the distance between us and resting his forehead against mine.
“Rose,” he purrs. “You’re playing dirty.” His hands find my lower back, drawing me closer.
My heart stutters in my chest. “All is fair in hate and war.”
He smirks. “Thought it was love?”
“There’s no love between us,” I murmur, pinching my eyes closed as our bodies finally press together.
His cock throbs against my stomach, and he grinds it into me, letting me know exactly what my little game did to him. “Scared, princess?” he asks, lips tracing over mine.
Forcing myself to meet his gaze, I ignore the way my body warms in response to his touch, the way I want to melt into him, the way I want to smash my lips against his, and lie my ass off. “Of you?” I let out one, throaty laugh. “No, Dare. You don’t scare me.”
Those strong, tattooed hands slide down to grip my ass, pressing my core into his. I bite back a moan.
“You’re a liar, Rosalynn Miller,” he murmurs, rocking my body over his hardened length again before releasing me so abruptly I almost fall.
Refusing to let him get the better of me, I straighten and toss him a haughty look. “Is that what you’re wearing?”
Dare’s T-shirt and pants are probably a hundred dollars apiece, at least, but if this prick thinks he can get married in jeans... “I’ll change,” he says, reaching one hand over his opposite shoulder and tugging the T-shirt off in a simple move that has no right to be as sexy as it is.
Lust is fucking with my head.
I scowl at him. “I’ll give you privacy.”
“You can stay.” He reaches for the button of his pants.
“No thanks.” I scurry from the room, Dare’s laugh chasing after me.
Part of me is dying to know what his cock looks like, but the other half is terrified that Dare has the power to make me want him. I slam the door closed and press my back into the wall, inhaling. Every confrontation with Dare leaves me breathless. I don’t hate it.
There are little pinpricks of pain on the bottom of my feet from the cuts the glass left, but after years of wearing high heels for hours on end, the hurt is manageable. The wounds themselves have scabbed over, and in a few days, they’ll be healed. I glance down at my arm, scowling at the marks on my skin.
Dare opens the door and catches me staring at the bruises. His eyes drop to my biceps. Something violent streaks across his features, but it’s there and gone in an instant. I half wonder if I imagined it.
He’s changed into an Anderson & Sheppard tuxedo, and instead of a white button-up shirt, his is black, matching the color of the suit. The sweeps of ink covering his hands are the only indication that he’s tattooed. Those brown eyes narrow when I lift my gaze to his face. Even in a three-thousand-dollar tux, he looks deadly.
And, for some reason, that thought doesn’t unsettle me as much as it should.
“Well?” he asks. “Is this better for you, princess? ”
“I guess it’s the best you can do,” I say with a sigh.
His lips twitching, he slips back into the room, returning with the white veil clutched in his hand. Dare proffers the other. “Ready?”
I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat, heart slamming against my rib cage, and slip my hand into his. The calluses on his palm surprise me. I don’t know what I expected. There’s nothing soft about him.
Dare leads me down the stairs, mindful not to go too fast with me in my heels.
I frown.
Another little act of kindness. Or maybe it’s the manners his parents likely beat into his head before they passed. Were his parents as tough-loving as my dad?
Dare steps onto the landing and turns slightly, glancing up at me as I take the final step down. Those brown irises are so hard to read, but I swear something like regret glitters in them.
I lift an eyebrow in question.
Shaking himself, he sighs and pulls me toward the table in the foyer. A stack of papers with pens laid on top waits for us. “First things first,” Dare says, releasing my hand.
I wipe my palm on my dress, and he tracks the motion with a frown. “A prenup?” I guess.
“What’s love without contracts?” he muses.
“My lawyer needs to look this over,” I tell him.
He shakes his head and holds a pen out for me to take. “No time. Sign it.”
“You’re a dick.”
“And you’re a spoiled brat,” he fires back.
Scowling, I snatch the pen from his hand and quickly scan the prenup. For the most part, it’s standard terms, but when I get to the page regarding assets, my mouth drops open. “You’re unhinged.”
“Am I?” he asks, drawing closer.
My skin pricks with awareness. “I can’t agree to give you my shares of JD Miller & Co, in exchange for shares in Vista Holdings, when we divorce.”
“I thought it was fair,” he lies. The cunning fucker knew what he was doing. Divorcing him would mean giving up everything my dad ever promised me, and it would also mean incurring Dad’s wrath.
A Miller would never be stupid enough to sign this .
Dare shifts, placing himself behind me, and wraps his arms around my middle. I stiffen as his lips trail over my shoulder. This man confuses me to no end. I’m his enemy, and yet, he holds me like we’re lovers. “Sign it, Rose.”
“I don’t really have a choice,” I say, though there’s no need. We both know Dare has me by the balls.
“You can leave at any time.”
“And give you the pleasure of putting me in jail?”
His lips brush over my ear, and I shiver as his hot breath sweeps over my skin. “You’re wasting time, princess. Do you want to call Daddy and ask for his permission?”
“Fuck you.” I shove my ass into his crotch hard enough to make him grunt and bend to sign the prenup.
Dare’s grip loosens, but he doesn’t let me go. I turn in his arms when I’m done and glare up at the wolfish grin stretching his lips, hating that, even with his devious intentions, he’s gorgeous. “You’re mine now, Rose.”