The silence after he hung up on Ian was suffocating. My chest rose and fell like I'd run a marathon, but all I'd done was sit there, trapped in his shadow.
"You had no fucking right," I hissed, my voice hoarse, my throat burning with unshed tears. I shoved at his chest, hard, but he didn't move. He didn't even flinch.
Alexander leaned down until his face hovered inches from mine, his blue eyes burning like ice set on fire. "I have every right," he said, low and calm, which only made it worse. "You are mine, Isabella. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be."
"Yours?" My laugh cracked in the middle, sharp with disbelief. "I'm not some piece of property you can buy and put in your pocket."
His jaw flexed, his gaze dropping briefly to my mouth before snapping back to my eyes. That tiny flicker made my stomach twist, and I hated myself for even noticing.
"You signed the contract," he reminded me, his voice a dagger wrapped in silk. "You belong to me, and I Do. Not. Share"
Heat flooded my cheeks, anger and shame warring inside me. My hands fisted at my sides. "I only signed because you left me no choice. You cornered me, Alexander. That's not belonging, that's imprisonment."
His mouth curved into something dark, dangerous. "Call it what you want. Prison. Chains. Marriage. The fact doesn't change." His lips brushed close to my ear, the whisper sliding over my skin like a brand. "You're mine."
My heart pounded against my ribs, so loud I was afraid he could hear it. I shoved him again, harder this time, and he stepped back, giving me room. My body sagged in relief, but my chest still heaved with fury.
"You're a monster," I spat, glaring at him. "I freaking hate you."
For a split second, something flickered in his eyes—something sharp and almost vulnerable. Then it was gone, swallowed up by his usual steel expression. He straightened, adjusting the cuff of his shirt like we weren't standing in the wreckage of my sanity.
"Good," he said flatly. "Hate keeps things interesting."
The audacity left me shaking. I wanted to scream. To throw something at him. To claw at his perfect, unreadable face until I saw some proof he was human. But I couldn't move.
Then, casually, like he was discussing the weather, he said, "The wedding will be two weeks from today.
My head snapped up. "What?"
He met my gaze without flinching, his tone cool, businesslike. "Two weeks is Enough time to arrange everything. Invitations are already being prepared."
"You—you can't just decide that without consulting with me first."
"I can," he said simply, stepping toward the door. He glanced back over his shoulder, his gaze sweeping over me in a way that made my body flush with unwanted heat. "And I have."
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me staring at the empty space he'd just filled. My chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, my fists trembling in my lap.
I wanted to scream that I would never go through with it. That I would find a way out, burn the contract, disappear if I had to
But somewhere, deep down, a voice whispered what I hated to admit.
I wasn't sure i would do it, where would I go to?that money was a lot to pay back I couldn't believe my parents would do this to do. Leave me with an amount to deal with. It broke my heart that they would do that to me