Page 40 of Dark Possession
I hold her gaze, unmoving. “You are not a kept woman, and it’s forwhateveryou need.”
She shakes her head. “No. This is control.”
I exhale through my nose, forcing my voice to stay even. “This isprotection.”
She glares at me, and for the first time tonight, there’s real fire behind it. “You don’t get to buy my obedience.”
I clench my jaw, trying to push down the frustration curling in my gut. “It’s not about obedience.”
“Oh really?” She leans in, matching my stance. “Because it sure as hell feels like I’m just supposed to nod and smile and saythank you, sir, while you dictate every little thing in my life.”
I drag a hand down my face.She’s impossible.“That’s not what this is.”
“Then whatisit?” Her voice is sharp now, challenging. “Because it doesn’t feel like a gift. It feels like you’re boxing me in, making sure I don’t take a step without you knowing about it.”
I lean back and shrug. “Yeah, you have to always tell me where you are. No exceptions.”
She lets out a bitter laugh. “Jesus, you don’t even hear yourself, do you?”
“Alina.” My tone is firm now, leaving no room for negotiation.
She shakes her head, looking away, fingers gripping the edge of the table like she’s holding back words that might rip through me. Then she exhales, her shoulders dropping slightly.
“And what if I say no?” she asks, quieter now but no less defiant.
I hold her gaze but don’t answer her. I need to make sure she’s safe at all times, so this is not a negotiation.
Her lips press together, and I know she hates this. Hates that I won’t budge. But there are some battles she can’t win.
Finally, she exhales sharply and grabs the keys off the table. “I’m not happy about this,” she mutters.
I almost smirk. “Noted.”
She glares at me one last time, then pockets the keys.
That’s the closest thing to a surrender I’m going to get.
We eat for another few moments, and I can tell she is settling down, the anger leaving her but something flickers in her expression, something hesitant, nervous.
I tilt my head. “What is it?”
She bites her lip, suddenly unable to meet my gaze. She never does that—she’s stubborn, always meeting my eyes like she refuses to be intimidated.
“I have something to tell you,” she says quietly.
My stomach tightens. Bad news. It’s always bad news.
“Go on.”
She exhales, her cheeks flushing slightly. Then, all at once, she blurts it out. “I’ve decided to go to art school.”
I stare at her, my brain catching up to her words. I expected worse. A hell of a lot worse.
Relief washes over me first. Then, something else. Something I don’t quite have a name for.
Pride, maybe.
“That’s good,” I say, keeping my tone neutral. “I’ll make arrangements. You can get into any school you want.”
