Page 57 of Prince of Control
But no. He genuinely wants to be with me–I can tell. We are starting to connect on an emotional level. Or at least I thought we were going to. If he shared something with me–anything–I might feel like it was safe to be with him.
Except that I’m still essentially his prisoner. I’m still not sure why I’m here. He still hasn’t told me why we had to suddenly get married.
I catch his hand as he turns away and tug him back. “Baron?”
“Malyshka.”
I ask the real question–the one I need answered even more than what made him into the tortured man he is.
“Why am I here?” I lift my face to him, pleading with my gaze. Unexpectedly, my vision swims with tears. Vulnerability buries me. I need to know why I’m a pawn in this game and what is the game? What use I serve? What do they plan to do with me?
A line appears between his brows. Regret washes over his expression.
“Lara.” He cradles my cheek with one large palm. “You’re here for me to keep safe. And I’ll never let anyone hurt you–I promise.”
I pull away from him, frustrated.
Damn him for not giving it to me straight. Damn his father–and mine.
Damn them all for using me as a pawn.
I toss my hair as I precede him out of the bedroom.
They can all go to Hell as far as I’m concerned.
Chapter Sixteen
Baron
Not surprisingly, my wife did not meet me on the dance floor after changing her shoes. She disappeared upstairs for so long that I assumed she’d gone to sleep for the night.
Except now, at one in the morning with the party vibe turning needy and people trying to find their hook-ups before the party ends, I spot her out on the dance floor.
With a guy.
Anya turned the volume down on the sound system to signal the wind-down of the party, and she’s playing songs with more of a groove than a bop.
Technically, there are four guys dancing around her, moving in closer like they’re planning some wild menage à cinq.
I’m already slicing my way through the crowd when one of the guys puts his hands on her hips from behind. I keep my head. Violence will be my last resort. I simply lay a hand on the guy’s shoulder when I get there.
“You’re dancing with my wife.”
Lara spins around.
Luckily for the guy, he recognizes me and instantly jumps back. “Sorry, Baron. I didn’t know.”
I ignore him and step in front of Lara, taking his place with my hands lightly touching her waist as we move to the music.
She looks up at me. It’s hard to read her expression because it’s a mix of mulish resistance and vulnerability. Like I dented her confidence in us tonight, but she’s holding out some hope.
“Are you punishing me?” I ask.
She nods, holding my gaze as her hips sway. She’s still in the sexy dress, but she has on a pair of flats now, and her hair is down. For one agonizing moment, my imagination pictures her hooking up with someone during this party to get back at me, but I quickly discard that notion. My house members would’ve seen and told me if she was with anyone else.
I step closer, one of my hands sliding from her waist up her side to lightly hold her breast. I brush my thumb over the skin just above her strapless dress.
She doesn’t resist me. Her body knows mine. She responds to my touch by softening. It seems she wanted this. Wanted to get my attention and throw a mini-rebellion to prove she won’t fall under my command.
