Page 48 of Pretty Little Threats

“You’re a dick.”

“And you’re a spoiled brat,” he fires back.

Scowling, I snatch the pen from his hand and quickly scan the prenup. For the most part, it’s standard terms, butwhen I get to the page regarding assets, my mouth drops open. “You’re unhinged.”

“Am I?” he asks, drawing closer.

My skin pricks with awareness. “I can’t agree to give you my shares of JD Miller & Co, in exchange for shares in Vista Holdings, when we divorce.”

“I thought it was fair,” he lies. The cunning fucker knew what he was doing. Divorcing him would mean giving up everything my dad ever promised me, and it would also mean incurring Dad’s wrath.

A Miller would never be stupid enough to sign this.

Dare shifts, placing himself behind me, and wraps his arms around my middle. I stiffen as his lips trail over my shoulder. This man confuses me to no end. I’m his enemy, and yet, he holds me like we’re lovers. “Sign it, Rose.”

“I don’t really have a choice,” I say, though there’s no need. We both know Dare has me by the balls.

“You can leave at any time.”

“And give you the pleasure of putting me in jail?”

His lips brush over my ear, and I shiver as his hot breath sweeps over my skin. “You’re wasting time, princess. Do you want to call Daddy and ask for his permission?”

“Fuck you.” I shove my ass into his crotch hard enough to make him grunt and bend to sign the prenup.

Dare’s grip loosens, but he doesn’t let me go. I turn in his arms when I’m done and glare up at the wolfish grin stretching his lips, hating that, even with his devious intentions, he’s gorgeous. “You’re mine now, Rose.”

fifteen

DARE

Rose givesme the cold shoulder on the limo ride to the church. She shoots me an annoyed look when she realizes where the driver is taking us. St. Patrick’s Church is where her parents got married, and much like ours, that marriage was forced. Though, Rose’s parents likely didn’t have murder hanging between them.

Still, an arranged marriage is an arranged marriage, regardless of whether there’s extortion involved.

Did I pick this church to fuck with her head?

Yes.

Did I pick it because my own parents were married here?

Also yes.

My leg bounces as the tall spires that flank either side of the grand bronze door come into view. My parents probably wouldn’t approve, but I can’t think about that too hard. What’s done is done.

The limo driver parks and, as instructed, stays in his seat. I don’t want him touching Rose or peering under her short dress while helping her stand. I’m the only one who gets to know she’s bare beneath the silky fabric of her wedding dress.

Getting out of the limo, I stick my hand in my pocket and brush my finger over the cool metal of my parents’ rings that all but weigh me down. They were passed down to me after my parents died, intended for when I took a wife.

Marriage was off the table once I realized anyone I cared about was in danger. The Beast of NYC isn’t allowed to have family or lovers. Joseph Miller made sure of that.

Risking an innocent woman’s life was never worth it.

But the woman in my car is different.

My attention drifts back to Rose. Even the mere outline of her is rippling with frustration, but it doesn’t detract from her elegant curves or pretty face. I can’t lose myself in her beauty, though. She’s as much of a shark as her father, and I’d be a fool to underestimate her. I round the back of the vehicle and open the door. Rose practically growls at me as she slaps her palm into mine, so I can help her stand. My gaze dips and, sure enough, the dress is so short, I can see her pussy.

Possessiveness curls through me, a strange emotion I haven’t quite figured out, but for some fucked-up reason, I want Rose all to myself. To destroy, to ravage, to fuck.

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