Chapter 5 #2
The drive back to the ranch took twenty minutes, which felt like hours.
I watched the familiar landscape pass by—the river cutting through the valley, the pine-covered slopes, the pastures where I’d worked since I was old enough to sit a horse.
All of it still there, still beautiful, but somehow different now. Tainted.
When we turned onto the ranch road, I could see the new tiny house in the distance. It looked even more out-of-place up close, all sleek lines and modern design, completely at odds with the weathered barns and fences surrounding it.
Dante parked next to it and killed the engine. “Home sweet home,” he said.
I climbed out before he could come around and open my door. The tiny house sat on a concrete foundation, with steps leading up to a small deck. Through the windows, I could see expensive-looking furniture and fixtures. It probably cost more than my parents had made in the last five years combined.
“Shall we?” Dante gestured toward the door.
I walked up the steps, my boots heavy on the wood. The door was unlocked. Inside, the space was open-concept—living area, kitchen, and dining space all flowing together. Everything was pristine, modern, probably custom-ordered. A hallway led to what I assumed was the bedroom and bathroom.
“I had it furnished to my specifications,” Dante said, coming in behind me and closing the door. The sound of the lock clicking made my pulse spike. “But if there’s anything you want to change, within reason, we can discuss it.”
I finally turned to look at him. “Within reason. Right. Because I have so much say in how my life goes now.”
His expression shifted, the amusement fading into something harder. “You made a choice, Nick. Nobody forced you to sign those papers.”
“Didn’t they?” My voice came out sharper than I’d intended. “What choice did I really have? Watch my sister get sold off? Watch my family lose everything?”
“You could have walked away. Let the chips fall where they may.” He moved closer, and I had to fight the urge to back up. “But you didn’t. You chose to protect them. That was your choice, and now you have to live with the consequences.”
“Consequences.” I laughed bitterly. “Is that what you call this? Being trapped in a marriage with a criminal who bought me like property?”
“I prefer the term ‘businessman,’” he said, his voice dropping lower. “And I didn’t buy you. I made an arrangement that benefited both our families.”
“Benefited you, you mean.”
“Didn’t it benefit you too?” He was close enough now that I could smell his cologne again, that expensive scent that didn’t belong on a ranch.
“Your family keeps their home. Your sister stays free. The ranch is profitable again. All you had to do was sign a piece of paper and put up with me. Seems like a fair trade.”
“Put up with you,” I repeated. “That’s one way to phrase being forced into someone’s bed.”
Something dark flickered in his eyes. “I never said I’d force you into anything, Nick. I’m not a monster.”
“No?” I met his gaze, refusing to look away even though my heart was pounding. “Then what was that back at the courthouse? That kiss? That wasn’t about claiming what you’d bought?”
“That was about making it look real,” he said. “But everything else? That’s up to you.”
I wanted to believe him. God, some part of me actually wanted to believe that maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as I’d imagined, that he wasn’t going to force himself on me in the middle of the night. But I’d seen the way he looked at me, the hunger barely concealed behind that polished exterior.
“I don’t believe you,” I said.
He smiled, and it wasn’t a pleasant expression. “You will. Eventually.” He stepped back, giving me space. “The bedroom is down the hall. Your suitcase is already there. I suggest you get settled in. We have a lot of work to do on the ranch, and I expect you up at dawn tomorrow.”
“Work?”
“Did you think you’d just be sitting around playing housewife?” He unbuttoned his blazer, pulling it off and draping it over a chair. “This is still a working ranch, Nick. And you’re still a rancher. The only difference is now you answer to me.”
The words hit me like a slap. He was right. Nothing had really changed except for who held the leash.
“Fine,” I said. “Is there anything else, or can I go unpack now?”
“Just one more thing.” He reached out, grabbing my wrist before I could pull away. His grip was firm, not painful, but inescapable. He turned my hand over, studying my ring finger where a simple gold band now sat—the one he’d placed there less than an hour ago.
“You’ll wear this,” he said quietly. “Always. I don’t care if you’re mucking out stalls or mending fence. That ring stays on your finger. It tells everyone in Hell Creek exactly who you belong to now.”
I jerked my hand back, and this time he let me go. “I don’t belong to anyone.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” He moved past me toward the kitchen, pulling open the fridge like he owned the place.
Which, I supposed, he did. “There’s beer if you want one.
Whiskey in the cabinet. I’m not unreasonable about that kind of thing.
Let me know what food you’d like in the house, and I’ll make sure it’s here. ”
I stood there for a moment, watching him move around the kitchen with easy familiarity. This was his space. His territory. And I was just an unwelcome guest in what was supposed to be my own home.
“I’m going to unpack,” I said finally, turning toward the hallway.
“Nick.”
I stopped but didn’t turn around.
“This doesn’t have to be a war,” he said. “I know you hate me right now. I get it. But we’re going to be living together, working together, sleeping in the same bed. We can make this bearable, or we can make it hell. The choice is yours.”
I looked back at him over my shoulder. He was leaning against the counter, a bottle of beer in his hand, looking relaxed and in control. Everything I wasn’t.
“You made it hell the moment you showed up at my family’s door,” I said. “Don’t pretend there was ever going to be another option.”