3
A NEGOTIATION
HENRY
“G et her.” I stare at the video feed, watching her slump on a sofa. “Now.”
Ryan nods and he’s fucking furious.
I’m livid too. She’s been here less than a day and she’s become a pain in my ass. This is the third time she’s refused to eat with me and her petulance grates. She’s destroyed any sympathy I had for her. I gave her time after her less-than-ideal journey, but this is beyond the limits of my tolerance.
The girl ought to have fallen into line by now. She’s my mate and that means she her needs should meet mine, as I meet hers. Ivy should want to obey me, want to submit to me. She should want to be my play thing and instead the little human is daring to defy me.
“I don’t think she knows, Henry. Please remember that,” Ryan says as he leaves the room. “She’s in the dark. This is terrifying for her. Be patient.”
She tucks some hair behind her ear and I wonder how soft it is. The small gesture is endearing and I dislike it. It’s adorable and I wish it wasn’t. I didn’t want her in my life, but she’s here and we’ve got to find a way to co-exist. It would be better if she learned her place, but everything she’s done so far suggests she’s as stubborn as her father.
I’ve tried. Genuinely, I’ve tried.
My invitations were ignored. Meetings were canceled at the last minute. The excuses became laughable and I didn’t push. I assumed she needed more time. I gave her space. I realize now that was a terrible mistake.
She pouts and stares at a window, breaking my fucking heart. I thought it died long ago, but it’s bleeding for her. I haven’t even met her yet, except at a damn awful gala two years back, where the sight of her turned my world upside down. Her room should be perfect. It should more than meet all her goddamn wants. Even the flowers were chosen based on her preferences. And the only thing she’s said is she hates the painting I spent a small fortune buying her.
I watch as Ryan walks in. Ivy barely lifts her head in acknowledgment. She looks like something I don’t like—sad—and I loathe myself for doing this. If Ryan’s right and she doesn’t know why she’s here, then she’s holding herself together remarkably well. It’s almost admirable. It’ll hurt me to break her.
She shakes her head as Ryan tries to persuade her to see reason. I sigh and rest my head in my hands, watching the scene play out. He says something. She shakes her head. He says something else and waves his hands. She shakes her head again. He steps forward and she inches back, and every instinct in me screams I should protect her.
Ryan waits and I grip the desk, clinging to it and praying I won’t have to witness what will inevitably follow. Ivy refuses to move. Ryan tries again before moving quickly, decisively and aggressively, hauling her over his shoulder and carrying her out of the room. She’s kicking and punching and her screams echo through the house as Ryan carries her to my office.
She’s still screaming when he dumps her in the chair in front of me. Her eyes burn with anger and they’re fucking breathtaking. They’re so green they dazzle me and I almost abandon all sense and lose myself in them. They contrast with her long blond hair which appears less well-groomed than normal. She hasn’t washed since she left L.A. and I can smell the stench of her journey on her instead of her.
Ivy takes a deep breath and her breasts heave. Fuck me, they’re perfect. Her tits are big enough to play with and they’re pert, and the nipples threatening to poke through her thin top are almost too tempting to resist. She catches me staring and fidgets, revealing more of her curves and letting me see how long her legs are.
I want her.
I fucking need her.
I hate her for being weak, but I can’t be without her.
It’s been seconds and I’m resisting the urge to fuck her on my desk and damn the consequences.
Gods, she’s fucking perfect. I hoped she wouldn’t be. I hoped I’d find salvation in some flaw. But there’s no escape and I hate that I can’t bear the thought of losing her. We met two minutes ago, we haven’t said a word and I’m devoted. Inextricably devoted.
It’s disgustingly nice.
Her eyebrow arches in challenge and the fire burns brighter. She’s more determined than her history suggests, and Ryan’s fallen for her soft exterior. He assured me she was a docile little mouse, but Ivy’s the perfect mate for me—I just need to tease it out of her.
It’s going to be a fucking shitshow.
“I hope your journey left you well rested.”
My jaw ticks and I curse myself for being snide. She won’t appreciate having salt rubbed into the wound. My first words to her should have been something else. Something kind. Something she’d cherish.
“Yes, thanks,” she replies and her warm tone catches me by surprise. “The kind of rested you are after a fucking psycho drugs you as they’re kidnapping you.”
I probably deserved that. I certainly should have seen it coming and I never should have let her score the first point. She’s sharp, quick, and ruthless—and she shows no remorse for insulting me.
“Needs must,” I say dismissively, ignoring Ryan’s eye-rolling from the back of the room. “Which brings me to meals. You’ll eat with me three times a day.”
Her fingers whiten as they grip the armrests. I imagine them holding my desk as I bend her over it and fuck her, and my cock strains against my zipper. I don’t remember when I became aroused, but the need to fuck her senseless and claim her as mine is becoming inconvenient. Overwhelming. All-consuming.
“I’ll take my meals in my room.”
“You eat with me,” I say, more than mildly irritated.
A hint of blush spreads across her cheeks, and I want to devour it. I want every goddamn inch of her to myself. I want to know how her body moves and make it dance to my tune. I want to know how her mind works and play games with it. I want her to be so fucking dazzled by me that she doesn’t know which way to turn .
Right now, I want to take her over my knee and spank her ass until those cheeks burn an even hotter shade of pink.
“No.” She huffs.
It’s so tempting to haul her over my lap and make her count. My cock’s fucking begging me to, and it’s taking every bit of my reserve to hold back. Ryan’s shaking his head at me, aware she’s pushing all my buttons. I’m about to lose my shit and he’s urging me not to.
“You eat with me,” I insist. My voice is strained as I force it to remain steady. “Or you don’t eat at all.”
Ryan tips his head back against the wall and screws his eyes shut. We’ve talked about this. We’ve gone through this. This was not the fucking plan. This is the very thing we agreed we wouldn’t do and I’ve fallen into it so fucking easily. I’ve laid down a line that can’t be crossed and now I’ve got to stick to it.
Ivy’s going to test me. She’s going to push against the rule. And she’s going to hate me when I refuse to let her eat. I’ll hate myself for making her go hungry.
“Fine.”
“Good,” I reply.
She looks anything but happy. Fuck.
I stare at her and tell myself this is for her own good. Her father almost got her killed and then sold her like she was a piece of property. I’d have done anything—given anything—to keep her safe and it’s a weakness I can’t afford. Thank fuck Ryan intervened and handled the negotiations.
I can’t allow her to run wild now, and she’s far too vulnerable to be left alone. She doesn’t understand. Ivy doesn’t know the danger she’s in. She needs time we don’t have, and I refuse to scare her any more than necessary. Even if she is pissing me off.
She needs to learn .
I’m going to protect her, even if she hates me for it.
“The wedding…” I let my voice trail off as I wait for her to react.
She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even fucking move.
She’s indifferent and it stings.
She’s staring at me like I’m nothing when she’s everything to me.
Her head tilts and she dares to wait for me. She’s playing my own game and she’s almost winning. There’s not a trace of emotion in her expression while I’m barely containing mine. It’s another insult and further proof I was better off without a mate. I’m too volatile, too labile. I’m too damn attached to her and her every fucking whim.
This has to end.
We can’t carry on like this.
I need to know she’s mine and she needs to accept her place.
I need her to submit but I want her to do it freely. Of her own volition. It’s a complete contradiction to my nature. I’d never offer this to any other human, especially not one as tempting as her. My instincts fight against themselves, telling me to treat her like any other pet and put her on a pedestal because she’s my mate.
Ryan shakes his head and pleads with me not to do this. It’s another thing we discussed in the last twenty-four hours. Yet another dilemma I faced as I watched her sleeping peacefully, wishing I’d exhausted her while I debated sedating her and fucking her while she couldn’t fight me.
“I’d prefer we followed my family’s customs.”
Making it a tradition is the easiest way to introduce the concepts to her. We can deal with specifics later. When she starts asking questions, I can guide her through it. She should have accepted our bond by then, and that should make it easier for her—and for me.
Her eyes widen for a split second before she regains her composure. It’s a relief to know I’m not the only one affected and I wonder if it’s right to be so happy when she’s so miserable. But then she shrugs and I want to shake her until she does something—anything—as long as it isn’t this. I don’t care what her reaction is as long as she gives me one, because any reaction tells me she’s responding to me.
I’ll take anything over nothing. Anything over this.
“Fine.” She huffs.
“We’re agreed then.”
Her weight shifts and I hear her heart racing. She’s panicking. I smell the fear seeping from her. Ivy’s terrified and yet she refuses to show me one sign of it. Her demeanor hasn’t changed, and if all I knew was what I could see, then I’d never guess how damn scared she is. I wouldn’t know unless I was a vampire.
Fuck, she’s stunning. More than that, she’s magnificent.
She’s brave and smart. Cunning and quick. She’s more beautiful inside than out, and I want to peel all her layers back. I want to know her in her bones, feel her every thought or emotion. I’m desperate to know every curve and line of her body and how every inch of her tastes.
I want her, and it’s dangerous. Especially as she’s human and she doesn’t feel our connection. Not yet. Not until I’ve won her heart.
She’s a weakness in every way, and I adore her because of it. I’ve never wanted anyone or anything as much, and it’s so damn tempting to leap over the desk between us and claim her. I’d be gentle if she’d let me be. I’d give her a moment to accept me. Then I’d fuck her until she screamed my name and lost her goddamn mind in the pleasure I’d give her .
It's so tempting. So easy. Too easy, perhaps.
A little nip and a touch of venom would ease her through it. It would be a kindness, really. She’d be less afraid and the ecstasy would be greater. A moment of pain for a lifetime of pleasure. I’d make sure she was taken care of. I’d please her. I’d adore her.
I'd have her in my thrall and I could play with her. Ivy would be the play thing she was meant to be, but more than that, she'd be mine.
“We’ll have a small ceremony. Today.”
Ivy’s mouth drops and her heart pounds so hard that Ryan stiffens. Her head shakes and the facade crumbles. She didn’t expect this. She doesn’t want this. She’s crawling up her seat away from me as if she’s rejecting me.
I growl instinctively and it’s a mistake.
She panics and her lip trembles as her already pale skin whitens.
“No.” Her voice is firm and her decision is definitive. She doesn't want this. She's made her wishes perfectly clear. My jaw ticks again and I decide her needs trump her wants. My needs trump her wants.
“You've agreed. A small ceremony is better.”
“Not today,” she says, her voice edged with desperation for the first time.
“Today is perfect. We'll have a bigger ceremony later.”
The remaining color drains from her face and the blood pooling in her chest excites me.
“We're not ready. I don't have a dress. Nothing's ready.”
Gods, she's shaking and I want to pull her against me. I crave the feeling of her little heart pounding against my chest and I shift, earning myself a stern warning glance from Ryan .
“We will be by sunset. It'll be perfect. I promise.”
Her bottom lip trembles, and my gaze is drawn to the flickering pulse in her neck. It's fluttering far too rapidly and the smell of her fear makes my cock rock hard.
“You have lots of dresses. Pick one.” I'm guessing this is the last protest she'll make, and I'm determined to head it off. Before it drives me insane with need. “Mia will help if you need it. She can arrange a white dress by sundown.”
Ivy shakes and her shell of indifference shatters. Her eyes plead for mercy and she turns to Ryan, searching for a way out. It irks me how she looks to him for salvation, but I'll forgive her. This time. She's terrified and doesn't know any better, and she's had more contact with him until now.
My second doesn't budge, although he's far from pleased with how this has gone. He simply shakes his head and crushes her hope. She sobs once before drawing a deep breath and turning like a tiger ready to attack.
“I said no.”
It's been a long time since anyone's openly defied me. I'm not sure whether to admire her courage or rage against her stupidity. I'm confused. Unsure. It's a puzzling experience and I dislike my discomfort.
“You said yes.”
“Not until I get something I want,” she says and my jaw almost falls at her sheer damn nerve. “That's how this works, isn't it? This is a transactional relationship. You want something from me. I get something in return.”
Fuck me, she's negotiating.
“It’s one interpretation of our arrangement.”
She winces and I’m relieved she dislikes the idea we are negotiable. But Ivy isn’t going to let that stand in the way of getting what she wants, and I’m intrigued. She’ll tell me what matters to her and it’ll give me insight into how she works. How she operates. Ultimately, it’ll make manipulating her easier, and I might need to, if only to keep her safe.
“Your agreement promised to keep my sister safe?” she asks, trying to conceal the emotion in her voice. The slight tremble ives away the depth of her attachment and when I nod, her heart rate falls. “I want Izzy to be protected from our father. Permanently.”
She fidgets as I watch her give away so much while revealing so little. Ivy confirms she hates her father but doesn’t tell me why, leaving my mind reeling through thousands of possibilities. Maybe it’s a knee jerk reaction to how he’s handled things with me, but it feels like it’s more than that. It feels visceral and I’m fascinated.
If he’s hurt her, I’ll fucking kill him. Slowly, painfully, and in a way that lets her make peace with whatever happened.
But she never had to ask for this.
This needn’t have been traded. I would have given her this willingly, without expectation or need for reciprocity. It’s another tell, a sign of how little she trusts men—and how little she knows of me. She’s judged me. Wrongly, in this instance.
“Of course.” I wave my hands as if I’ve agreed to something difficult.
She exhales and sinks into her chair, imploding now the pressure’s lifted. Her eyes finally look away and stare at a painting. I’ve always liked the way the thick paint strokes capture the movement of the water in the pond. It’s a picture I acquired years ago and its provenance is impeccable.
“I was told your tastes were more modern.” My voice is as smooth as chocolate and it ought to calm her. She stares at the wall and I’m left asking myself if the painting is doing more for her than me.
“It’s pretty,” she says, slowly getting up and walking away .
Ryan moves to open the door and he’s surprised I haven’t reacted. Ivy’s decided this conversation is over and I haven’t challenged her. It’s been a while since someone left my presence without being dismissed and he’s noted my leniency.
“You can have it.”
Ivy stops and her head tilts almost imperceptibly. “No, thank you.”
She takes two steps before I interrupt her. “If you like it, you should have it. I’ll have it moved to your room.”
“No.”
The simple, complicated girl who holds my heart hostage infuriates me without realizing it, leaving me desperate to solve this riddle. She’s turning down a fucking masterpiece. It barely holds a candle to her, but its lilies are considered stunning.
“I’m happy to give it to you. Why not take it?”
She steps through the door and stops, debating with herself whether the truth will land her in more trouble. She hides it well, but the slight tremor in her hand gives away her uncertainty. Ivy waits and only looks back when Ryan’s about to pull the door shut. Our eyes meet and I hate the pain I’m witnessing in hers.
“Because the cost is more than I’m prepared to pay.”
Ryan closes the door before I screw this up even more. My rage explodes and I sweep the papers off my desk before I turn it upside down, baring my fangs as my temper ignites. I seethe, snarling like a wounded animal. I’m fucking feral and the only thing I want walked away after delivering a gut-wrenching blow.
Fuck .
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.