She yanks away her hand.
Smiling, I get out of her space. My appetite is gone. Fuck. I need a drink more than food. I shove back my chair and go to the wine rack. Selecting one of my best reds, I uncork the bottle and fill two glasses. I take a gulp before putting a glass in front of her.
The hellcat takes the glass, tilts back her head, and downs the expensive French wine in one go.
Chuckling, I round the counter and take my seat. “That was an 1869 Château Lafite. There are less than ten bottles left in the world.”
She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Yes.”
My pulse picks up. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, I’ll do it,” she says with loathing quivering in her voice. “I’ll let you use me if you guarantee it’ll get me out of here quicker.”
No. If she needed liquid courage to utter that word, I don’t want it. She’ll give it to me begging on her knees. That’s when I’ll take her.
“I said it.” She lifts her chin. “Now keep your promise and send Bell your message.”
There it is again, the use of her father’s first name. There’s something in the way she says it that sounds a lot like hatred. Aversion, almost. Or maybe that’s directed at me.
The cutlery rattle as she slams a fist on the counter. “Do it.”
She’s not only angry. She’s shaking with it. So am I. We sure as hell know how to work each other up. I bet we’ll be dynamite in bed.
I stand, mocking her with my words. “Your wish is my command.”
I got what I wanted, what I’d carefully planned, yet this round doesn’t feel like a victory. All I feel is fucking fury. Frustration. I don’t care that she’s barefoot with her feet still in bandages. I grab her arm and drag her with me. My shoes beat a harsh rhythm on the tiles as I make my way to the basement.
The guard in front of the door steps aside, his eyes widening when he takes in my face. Wisely, he averts his gaze. Letting her go, I block the electronic pad on the wall with my body and punch in the code.
The metal door clicks open. A blast of cold air hits me. I’m wearing a wool sweater and winter slacks. Vaguely, I register how cold Evie will be down there dressed in her thin T-shirt and pants, but the rage coursing through me overrides all logical input from my brain. This is what we both wanted. This is what she’ll get.
A smell of damp mixed with sweat hangs in the air. It thickens as we descend the stairs. The architect who designed the house believed I was building a cellar. My wine collection is worth a fortune. The bars and gates in front of the three domed rooms made sense. They were designed to keep thieves out. Conveniently, they also keep prisoners in.
I stop in front of the first cell. The four men inside push to their feet, baring their teeth like dogs as they grip the bars.
A soft gasp sounds next to me. I look down. Evie stares at them with parted lips, her breath making puffs of vapor in the cold. Wet streaks mark her cheeks. She’s crying. The sight of her tears makes something pinch in my chest, and then the lid I’ve managed to keep on my anger blows because her tears are for them.
I shouldn’t let her make me do this, not in the state I’m in, but I’m out of control and way past stopping.
She asked for this.
Gripping her nape, I push her to the bars. She stumbles, managing to right herself before she falls. I make her face them, see them, recognize that all the power is mine. Mine. I’m jealous of her tears. Her compassion should be mine.
Forcing her to look, I say through thin lips, “Choose one.”
She goes so still there’s no more white puffs in front of her lips.
“Choose one,” I repeat, shaking her back into action.
The woman in my hold goes hysterical. She’s no longer the woman who fights cleverly. She pounces on me with a cry, jabbing her fists in my ribs. The attack catches me off guard. I stumble back a step, making her trip as the momentum brings her with me. She charges after me, uttering a curse that has the power to rip the sky in two.
Her punches don’t do damage. Neither do her kicks. However, the reminder of what she’s capable of doing with her nails still burns on my cheek. I don’t make the same mistake again. I grab her wrists before she can claw out my eyes and shake her harder.
“Evie. What’s gotten into you?”
“You bastard.” She twists in my hold. “You’re a monster. A liar.”