CHAPTER ELEVEN
> The Price of Freedom
...The Donovan Estate
Muse remained seated, staring back at him as her heart began to pound.
But outwardly her posture was composed while she was wary inside her.
Pierre had not moved or said anything since he had declaried they talk.
She waved a hand at the servants and the table between them was cleared.
She watched as the last traces of breakfast was whisked away by their quick hands.
She saw when Pierre beckoned to a servant and whispered something to him.
Now he just sat back in his chair with his right arm draped along the other chair.
His other had was idly tracing the edge of his glass and his gaze never left her.
"Yes?" She pressed with quirked brows, unable to stomach the silence.
"Patience," he whispered just as the servant he had sent away before returned.
Pierre took the brown manilla envelope that he was carrying on a silver tray.
He nodded once, an action that dismissed all of the servants without a glance.
The servant left alongside the others and Muse heard the doors clicked shut.
Muse's eyes followed the envelope.
"What's that?"
He didn't answer immediately.
He broke the seal instead and drew out a neat stack of papers from them.
He lifted his eyes to her before he slid them across the table towards her.
"For?" she queiried him.
"These are documents," he said. "You will want to read them."
She gave him a suspicious look as her fingers hovered over them.
His lips curved slightly.
She took the papers and the embossed Donovan crest at the top greeted her eyes.
"What is this, Pierre?" she asked as her eyes travelled over the words.
"They are public record copies," he said evenly. "For our upcoming marriage."
Muse's heart missed a beat as she glanced up to look at him for a moment.
Then, her eyes returned to the papers and she took them seriously this time.
"We need to go over the clauses together as there was no time to do it before."
Muse read through the lines of clauses and subclauses while Pierre spoke.
But she didn't hear him because her eyes fell on a clause on page three.
It read:
Clause 7(b): The wife shall bear an heir within the first two years of marriage.
Her breath caught.
For a second she thought she may have misread and simply read it again.
The words didn't change.
She looked up sharply. "What is this supposed to mean?"
Pierre stopped talking and stared at her.
"What?" He asked.
"Bear a heir?" She repeated the words as if they were snake venom.
Pierre calmly folded his hands.
"It's exactly what it says."
Muse gaped in surprise as her pulse began to roar in her ears.
"Why would I bear you a heir?" She demanded squarely.
Pierre leaned back in his seat.
"Well, I don't think you have a choice considering the fact that you already signed the agreement document."
Muse gasped in disbelief.
She frantically began turning the pages to see that her names was signed beneath the pages.
Everywhere first blur.
All the blood in her body drained as the words on the paper swam before her eyes.
"You are telling me I signed a document agreeing to..."
Her voice trailed off.
"To bear an heir? Yes."
Her chair scraped violently against the tiles as she stood abruptly.
"You can't be serious."
Pierre just sat there, his eyes regarding her with an infuriating calm.
"Muse, you've already signed. It's done."
A sound bubbled up in her throat and she let it out as an incredulous laughter.
"You tricked me!" she yelled as she balled the paper with both her fists.
Pierre watched her with amusement.
"I didn't do that. You asked for freedom and I gave you freedom," he said.
His tone was cool and detached.
And it made her see red.
"You wanted out and I delivered you. But freedom has a price. And you promised to pay it."
Her eyes widened as she slammed the crumpled papers onto the table.
"I didn't promise shit!" She snapped at him in a low voice that trembled.
Pierre scoffed.
"It's too late ex Miss Vitale, you belong to me now, Muse Donovan."
The words fell from his lips with a possessive tone that made her skin crawl.
"You think you can own me with a clause?" she leaned in to ask.
Pierre's gaze softened slightly.
"You agreed to every term of the contract. I didn't hide anything."
"Liar!" She barked, slamming her clenched fists lnto the table. "These were never included and you know it."
"You can't blame me just because you didn't read it closely enough," he shrugged.
Her lips parted in outrage.
"You're unbelievable!"
His eyes watched her like someone watching an animal resist a leash.
"You didn't give me no freedom! You are caging me, this is another prison!"
He rose then.
His movements were slow and unhurried and it irritated her endlessly.
He looked every inch the predator who knew the cage door was already closed.
"You're free, Muse," he stated.
He slipped both of his hands into his pockets while she gawked.
"You are free from the trial, prison, and from that ruin waiting to swallow you."
He took a step closer, leaning in.
"Don't misinterpret that," he warned as his face hardened considerably.
"All I demand is a legitimate partnership and the continuation of the Donovan line."
She took a step back.
Her heart rate sky rocketed with fury as she fisted her hands at her sides.
"Continuation?" she spat.
He nodded, leaning back.
"Or you mean ownership?"
His mouth curved faintly.
"You want a woman to play the part of your perfect little wife while you pull the strings?"
She scoffed bitterly.
"You of all people should know how the world works. You survive with a role."
"Is that your excuse?" She groaned.
"That's why your family cast you aside, because you had no role to play."
The words hit her like a hard slap.
Her face paled with the horror.
She stumbled with mouth agape, not believing he had just said that.
"Step up Muse, it's either this or back to prison for you," he pointed out.
Dread twisted every component of her stomach while she drew in ragged breaths.
Muse shook her head in fury and something else that was perilously close to fear.
It was rising fast in her throat and attempting to choke her.
"You're despicable."
He regarded her lazily for a long moment with an unreadable expression.
But his eyes said everything, that he must have expected this from her.
"Be angry," he said quietly. "You will find it makes this cage more comfortable."
She stared at him.
She was speechless for once.
So he knew it was a cage?
It took a moment but she found her voice.
"I will never give you what you want," she said, pointing a finger at him.
His lips curled not in a cruel but in a knowing way.
"You will, eventually."
"Watch me," she hissed.
He didn't answer.
The silence between them grew thick with unrestrained energy and rage.
Muse's hands trembled as she bent and began to gather all of the papers.
All that effort only for her to throw every single one of them in his face.
He didn't seem suprised.
She wanted to rip them apart but she couldn't do that yet.
That wasn't how she would win.
She took one long breath.
"Go to hell," she said quietly.
Then she turned and walked away before he could see the storm brewing in her eyes.
Pierre remained still even after the door shut with a definitive click behind her.
His expression stayed unchanging as he listened to the faint ticking of the clock.
His eyes drifted toward the empty doorway that she had stormed through.
Then, he sat down and leaned back in his chair with his fingers beneath his chin.
So, that was that.
He had known that she would find the added clause eventually.
He had wanted her to because anger tended to make people predictable.
And Muse with all her defiance would play into his hands if pushed the right way.
His mind went back to a year ago when he had seen her for the first time.
It was at the inauguration ceremony of the company of a mutual friend.
She had been dressed in a pretty navy blue silk gown with her hair worn high.
It was her soft laughter that had called him to her as every man had watched her.
He could also tell them that every woman had envied her and her defiant gaze.
Pierre had decided that night that he would have her, not simply for her beauty.
He needed her for the defiant fire beneath though she possessed beauty in dangerous measure.
A flame like hers could either become warm over time or lead to destruction.
And he, ever the strategist, intended to choose the latter for his enemies.
Now she was trapped here, furious at him and beautiful in her resistance.
He exhaled slowly, almost smiling.
"War it is, then."
Muse slammed her bedroom door hard enough to leave it unhinged.
Her heart betrayed her as she recalled every line of the betrayal from memory.
She pressed both palms to the dresser while fighting the tremor in her fingers.
She looked at herself in the mirror.
Her cheeks was flushed under wild eyes and hair falling loose around her face.
"You freed me to use me," she whispered to her reflection.
Her voice trembled.
But then it hardened when she spoke again. "Now I'll make you regret it."
The words were quiet with a promise.
Outside, somewhere down the hall, she heard a door beingclosed softly.
The estate was silent again, the kind of silence waiting for something to burn.