I tilted my head. “No, you just meant to tell me who I can and can’t work with because you seem to believe that they want to fuck me.”
“He does.” His stare unyielding and no longer glittering with any kind of amusement.
“Good for him,” I replied sharply. “I’m hot. I think I’m somewhat of a catch. So throughout the remainder of my life, I’m going to hazard a guess that I’m going to encounter some men who may want to fuck me. But guess what? Wanting is as far as they’ll get. Because I have no interest in letting another man touch me. I am committed to you. I think I’ve proven that well and truly. But my commitment does not mean you get a say over who I do and don’t work with.”
I got up out of my chair, snatching my martini off the counter and began to pace. It was either that or climb across the kitchen counter and slap Jay silly.
“No, Stella,” he disagreed, watching me pace. “The ring on your finger means you’re mine. Means that I won’t have you around men, alone with men who want to fuck you. You may think he’s a good man, but many men can turn bad, turn dangerous once they get rejected. Especially when they’re used to getting what they want.”
I blinked. “So now you’re insinuating that Ollie is going to force himself on me?” I scowled.
Jay rounded the counter now, walking toward me. I stopped pacing because my body was still a fucking traitor that was hungry for him.
“I’m not putting you in a situation where that is ever going to happen again,” he declared fiercely, coming to stand in front of me but not touching me.
Something cold moved at the bottom of my stomach at the mention of the night that I still dreamed about sometimes. That woke me in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, my heart thundering in fear. Jay was always there for that.
“I rejected you at first, Jay,” I reminded him, trying to hide my reaction. “Are you telling me that you would’ve turned dangerous because you wanted me and were used to getting what you want?”
He gripped my wrist. “Careful, Stella,” he warned.
“No, you be fucking careful, Jay,” I spat, yanking my wrist back and storming over to the counter where my phone vibrated.
I glanced down at my phone. We were late. “We have to go,” I said flatly, trying to step around Jay.
He didn’t let me do that. He continued to cage me in. “We are not going anywhere. We’re not done.” His eyes were granite, gemstones without the glitter. Resolute.
I met his stare, the one that used to terrify me so much more than it did now, and I jutted my chin up in defiance. “We are done for now,” I retorted, done with this conversation.
“You’re not leaving this house, Stella.”
I titled my head at him. “What? You’re going to physically restrain me? Chain me up?”
His hand trailed up to my throat, resting there without pressure. Nonetheless, my heart thundered against that hand, my body responding with a need that my angry mind was not in control of.
“I don’t need to chain you up to make you stay,” Jay murmured, his voice liquid now instead of iron, those gemstone eyes transforming into pools of desire.
I hated that he was right. That he could control me so easily. Without force. Without restraints. Purely with the desire that I had for him. The need I had for him. The one that hadn’t dampened since we got back, that hadn’t plateaued, the one that grew with every passing day.
Every passing hour.
How was I going to survive a lifetime with this man?
“No, you don’t need to chain me up to make me stay,” I agreed. “But you’re not going to make me stay. Because we’re not in our arrangement. You don’t get to win every time. You don’t get to control me.” I evened my gaze in challenge despite my racing heart, despite my need for him.
Jay met my stare, considering my words. I knew he was still contemplating making me stay despite what I’d said, that was just Jay.
When he stepped back, a victory, I hated myself for being disappointed.
We arrived at the party and put on the faces of a couple who were pretending they weren’t in a fight, but everyone who knew them well spotted the tension the second they walked through the door.
My friends had spent enough time around Jay and I to understand our dynamic. They at least knew me well enough to understand my mood, to clock that something most definitely wasn’t right. But apart from a couple of raised eyebrows, they said nothing. And we said nothing to each other.
I knew that Jay did not particularly want to be here, amongst all these people, amongst the craziness of Wren’s party which included synchronized swimmers in her pool, a henna artist and some guy eating swords. I did not miss the men wearing expensive suits, skulking around the edges of the party, clinging to what little shadows there were.