Page 93 of Theirs to Possess: The Marriage Claim
“Then thank me for my generosity.”
Are you serious?
Recognizing the coldness in the depths of his eyes, I tremble. “I’m sure the restaurant wouldn’t permit me to be nude.” I hope.
“Bastien wouldn’t blink an eye.”
“I’m here to ensure you have an enjoyable evening, sir,” the owner agrees.
Of course he is. Dorian would absolutely choose a place that caters exclusively to him and his perverse whims.
Then I think about everything I’ve already seen. There is no doubt my husband would strip me and force me to spend the rest of the evening that way.
“I’d enjoy looking at her breasts all night.” Brennan drops into a chair.
Stunned, my mouth falls open. He’s often my ally, but right now, he’s as serious as Dorian is. I’m outnumbered and overwhelmed. “I’ll behave,” I promise them both.
“And your gratitude?” Dorian prompts.
“Uhm…” I clear my throat. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome, little one.”
I grit my teeth. His response was awful, as if he’s showing me the greatest courtesy.
Quickly I scoot to the far side of the booth. But Dorian slides in next to me and reaches out to place an arm around my waist. In a forceful move, he drags me back toward him, even though my skin sticks to the leather a little, making me wince.
“You’ll find your life is easier if you do as I want.”
“Does that include reading your mind?” I fire back.
For a fraction of a second, a hint of a smile teases his lips. “You couldn’t possibly have imagined, for even a moment, that I wanted you to be as far away from me as possible.”
I’d lie, but a flush is creeping across my cheeks.
Bastien clears his throat. “May I pour?” He nods towardthe expensive bottle of champagne chilling in a crystal bowl filled with ice and water.
Obviously Dorian arranged for that as well.
“Please.”
Bastien offers a small sample for Dorian’s approval. After he says he’s pleased, Bastien pours the first glass for me.
Once we’re all settled, he bids us a good evening.
Good? I’m not sure that’s the right word. Strange. Bizarre. Freaky. All of those are a better fit.
I take a gulp of the fine vintage, hoping beyond hope to settle my nerves.
“Easy.” Dorian plucks the glass from my fingers. “We have plans for you tonight, and you’ll be sober for them.”
My stomach knots. Of course he has plans. But the big question is where? Here? Or at the cottage?
If he doesn’t lead me on the stage and fuck me there, I’ll be surprised.
As I take in the scene, a violin cries from across the room, and a topless dancer moves to the middle of the room, her hips undulating in an unmistakably sensual way.
I try to look away, and I can’t.
