Cannon (Carolina Reapers 5)

I bit my bottom lip, studying the well of pain in his eyes. “Did you lose someone?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, and that familiar iron wall dropped over his eyes. “What are your rules?”

I sighed. Fine. Fair enough. He wasn’t obligated to share, to open up. That didn’t mean I’d stop trying, though.

“You can’t get into any fights,” I said, ticking the first item off on my finger. The mimicked position from his earlier stance earned me the tiniest, if not briefest, of smiles. “No public scenes, violent or otherwise.”

Cannon folded his massive arms over his chest.

“And you can’t have sex with anyone else either.” The final rule came out firmer than the other two, and it dawned on me how this rule held more importance. To me, this one was the deal-breaker. The idea of him with another woman…I cringed. That inward swirling mount of jealousy is what urged me to buy him in that damned auction in the first place. I didn’t take one more second to ponder on it and instead pushed on. “Because, Cannon, for all pretend purposes, you’re mine.”

His lips curved at the edges—more bite than smile.

“And I do ask if you feel the…urge…feel like you might be on the brink of breaking that rule, that you ask me to satisfy it first.”

His eyebrows perked up at that, and the look made me tremble inside.

“I’ll be just fine without it,” he said. “And I won’t break my own rules. No sex.”

“Perfect,” I said, though a bit of disappointment fluttered through my chest. Not that I particularly wanted him to fight for the right to come between my thighs, but…

Well, it didn’t matter anyway.

This was clearly business, and at least on this end, we knew why we were going through with another marriage.

For the life of me, I wished I could remember my reasoning for the first time.

“So, we have a deal?” I offered my hand between us. Cannon eyed it for a few moments like I might have hidden some sort of taser between my fingers. “Oh, for goodness’ sake,” I said, and grabbed his hand.

A jolt of heat pulsed through me at the contact of his skin on mine—the roughness against my smoothness, the strength in his fingers yet the gentleness in which he held my hand.

Cannon shook it once, twice, and then released me and went so far as to take another step back.

Well, if this marriage wasn’t off to a most pleasant start.

“How many garment bags do you truly need, Princess?” Cannon grumbled as he carried in three more of the dozen or so said bags.

I shifted the box of cosmetics in my arms, clicking across the hardwood that lined his Reaper Village home. “With as many events, galas, and charity fundraisers as I attend, not to mention the meetings with Silas and his owner friends, how many appropriate dresses and gowns would you deem enough?”

He shook his head, moving past me and down the hall, toward my designated room—down the hall from his. “I think you’d be just as powerful in jeans and a T-shirt, more so maybe because you wouldn’t need all this fancy armor to hide behind.” He lifted the bags draped over his arms before shoving past me and depositing them on the bed.

I sat the box on the ottoman at the foot of the bed and whirled on him, my blonde hair snapping behind me. “I happen to enjoy wearing nice clothes, and that isn’t a crime, Cannon,” I snapped. This wasn’t the first time since I’d brought my things over to move in that he’d made a jab at my wealth. “And I don’t need fancy armor.”

“Sure thing, Princess.” He shook his head. “How many more ten-thousand-dollar dresses do we need to haul in?”

My eyes flared, and adrenaline pumped in my veins. It had been a long fucking week, and I was done with his attitude. “You’re one to talk. You have a closet full of fancy suits—”

“Coach makes us wear them to and from games.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure that’s the only reason you wear them, too. I’m sure you only took a modeling gig with Connell for that same reason, hmm? Because coach made you.” I scoffed. “Also made you buy that expensive beast of a car too? And this home and everything in it?”

He pressed his lips into a hard line, but his anger didn’t give me pause for one second.

“You may think it’s fine for you to have nice things because you’ve worked your butt off for it, but don’t for one moment presume to know me, Cannon Price.” I stepped closer to him, arching my neck to meet his eyes. “I may have been born with wealth, but I had as much say in that as anyone else who is born into whatever situation their family has brought them into the world under. But everything in my accounts? Every piece of clothing or possession you’ve hauled in here today? I worked for it. I earned it. I accumulated this wealth by waking up and busting my butt every single day. Just because I don’t do it on the ice or in the gym doesn’t make it less valuable.” Hot tears welled behind my eyes—a curse of mine, being an angry crier—but I didn’t dare let them fall.