The limousine ride home was silent.
Lisa sat with her hands folded tightly in her lap, her pulse still racing from the way Will had announced her as his wife in front of the entire gala. The words had been meant to silence the gossip, to make a statement of power. But they had been delivered with such possessive finality that Lisa wasn't sure whether to be flattered or furious.
Will, on the other hand, looked perfectly calm, his gaze fixed out the tinted window as if nothing had happened. His jaw was relaxed, his posture controlled, every inch the composed billionaire CEO.
Lisa hated him for that composure. For how he could set her world spinning with a single sentence and then retreat back into silence as if nothing had happened.
Finally, she couldn't take it anymore.
"You didn't have to say that," she blurted, her voice sharp in the quiet car.
His gaze shifted to her lazily, one brow arched. "Say what?"
"That I'm your wife. Like I'm some kind of possession you needed to stake a claim on." Her fingers twisted together nervously. "You made it sound like… like I belong to you."
Will leaned back against the leather seat, studying her in silence for a long, tense moment. Then, his lips curved in the faintest of smirks.
"Do you not?"
Her breath caught, anger sparking. "No! I don't belong to anyone. Least of all you."
His smirk vanished. In an instant, his expression hardened, his eyes narrowing with a dangerous edge. He leaned forward, closing the space between them, his voice dropping to a low, velvet threat.
"Lisa," he said slowly, deliberately, "when you stood beside me tonight, every person in that room knew exactly who you were. You weren't some outsider fumbling through introductions. You were mine. That's the only reason they respected you."
Lisa's heart hammered against her ribs. "Respect isn't the same as fear, Will. They didn't look at me like they respected me. They looked at me like they were waiting for me to fail."
His eyes softened, just for a fraction of a second, but then his mask slid back into place. "Then don't fail."
The words stung. She clenched her fists. "You make everything sound so easy. But you don't understand what it feels like to constantly be the one who doesn't fit in. I don't have your power. Your money. Your name."
Will leaned closer until she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. "You have my name now."
Her lips parted, a sharp retort forming, but it died on her tongue when she realized how close he was. His eyes—cold steel blue under normal light—burned with something else now. Something dangerous. Something magnetic.
"Don't look at me like that," she whispered, her voice trembling despite herself.
His smirk returned, faint but deliberate. "Like what?"
"Like you… like you want to—" She stopped, unable to finish, heat flooding her cheeks.
The air between them was thick, charged, almost unbearable. His gaze dipped briefly to her lips, and for a terrifying, intoxicating moment, Lisa thought he might actually kiss her.
But then, as if sensing the war raging inside her, Will pulled back. He leaned against the seat once more, his expression smooth and unreadable.
"Get some sleep," he said coolly. "Tomorrow, we start your training."
"Training?" she repeated, thrown.
"You're my wife now. That means you'll be in boardrooms, meetings, events. If you want to keep up, you'll need to learn how to play the part. I don't tolerate weakness, Lisa." His gaze pinned her with ruthless clarity. "And I won't let you make me look weak, either."
Her anger sparked again, but beneath it was something else—a dangerous thrill at the idea of being molded by him, challenged by him, forced to rise to his level.
She hated that thrill.
But as the limousine pulled up outside her apartment and Will stepped out first, offering his hand to her like a king leading his queen, Lisa realized something she couldn't quite admit to herself yet.
She didn't just hate him.
She wanted him.
And that terrified her more than anything.