Page 60 of Beast

“Like hell,” I say, holding my hand out to him like I’m handing him a phone. “It’s the 1950s, they want their chauvinism and misogyny back.”

His eyes flare.

And mine flare right back.

“I expect you to be more obedient,” he says, gritting his teeth.

“And I expect you to be less of a demanding jerk.”

“Need I remind you of what is at stake here?”

My eyes narrow on him. “How could I forget?”

“Then you will start behaving?—”

Like hell.

I storm away from him because I’m frustrated. I know it doesn’t solve anything. But it does stop me from murdering my seven-foot bike gangster fiancé for being an inconsiderate jerkface.

I head deeper into the garden. In another life—the one where I’m not broke and kidnapped—I would be a botanist. Or a garden designer. Someone who works with plants every day. I love them. I like to think it’s something that was passed on to me by my mother or father. But Uncle Maurice says neither of them were interested in gardening.

I wish I knew more about them. Who they were. What they were like. Did they have hobbies?

I spent a lot of my childhood trying not to think about them. Because I couldn’t remember a thing about them and it made me feel guilty.

Strangely enough, being here makes me feel close to them, and I can’t understand why. It’s probably because my life has been flipped on its ass and it makes me long for the comfort of family.

Something I’ve craved for as long as I can remember.

“I don’t appreciate you being such a pain in the ass,” Beast says, catching up to me in two strides of his giant legs.

“And I don’t appreciate being treated with disrespect.” I swing around to face him. I may have decided to be a better fake queen, but that doesn’t mean I am going to let him boss me about. “Is this what it will be like when we are married? You bossing mearound like a caveman? Why don’t you just hit me over the head and drag me into your cave.”

He grits his teeth. “Don’t think it isn’t tempting.”

I hate that he has the upper hand. That I am indeed at his beck and call. But while that might be true, I will not go down without a fight. I don’t mean physically, I could never match his brute strength. No, I will have to use my wits if I am to get the ball in my court somehow.

I cross my arms. “Why did you summon me, anyway?”

“We need to discuss some matters.”

“Does it involve you letting me go?”

He gives me a pointed look. “No.”

“Then I’m sorry, but I am currently too busy to talk.”

I try walking away again but his thundering voice stops me. “Don’t take another step, or so help me God, little one.”

The power in his voice sends a trail of goosebumps across my skin.

Despite hating him, I do as I’m told.

“I don’t know if I made myself clear yesterday, but the two of us convincing the high council of this club that this union is real is the only thing keeping your uncle alive.”

My jaw tightens. “How could I forget.”

“Then you can see my dilemma when I send the prospect to fetch my fiancé and she all but tells me to go fuck myself.”

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