Page 32 of Freeing Denver
I cut a glance to the room, then back to him. “The trip was canceled.”
Ranger stands in a swift movement, and as he reaches me, he slides his arm around my waist. “Gentlemen, you know my wife, Denver.”
As murmurs of greeting ripple through the room, Alexei’s gaze lingers on Ranger’s hand on my hip. Dante has twisted his upper body in his chair, his arm over the back of it.
I edge myself out of Ranger’s grip. “What’s all this about then? Boys’ club?”
“I’m getting acquainted. Being friendly.” Ranger returns to his seat. “It is my city, after all.”
“Was,” I respond sweetly. “You’re wanted back home, aren’t you, darling?”
“No. Axel is there for me. He learns quickly.”
My eyes widen as fear bolts through me. Axel is not working for his father—not a chance in fucking hell. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I need a word with my husband.”
I march out of the room, amused chuckles echoing behind me as I stride into the living area. My blood is running far too hot, and Lewis stands against the far wall, alert as Ranger follows me.
“Something wrong, little bird?”
“This was not what we agreed,” I whisper-hiss. “We needed you at the funeral, not here. Not doing this.”
He tilts his head, his gaze traveling down my outfit. “You needed me to support you, but these men don’t know me. If they respect me, they respect you. Is this new?”
He reaches out to touch the strap of my dress, and I smack his hand away.
“Lewis, can you give us a minute?” I ask, and my friend frowns gently but nods, leaving the room. Ranger takes the opportunity to move closer, but I hold up my hand. “You are no longer needed. You can go home. And Axel can, too.”
He tuts. “But he’s becoming a real heir.”
“Ranger, you let him go.” I step close, my anger simmering in my words and on my skin. “He isn’t built for this. He’s a good man.”
“He’s a better monster.”
I want to scream at him. To drag my nails down his face and promise him a thousand deaths if he doesn’t do as I demand.
But arguing with him now is pointless. He wants my emotion, probably feeds off of it, so he’ll get nothing from me but the cold, hard truth.
“I want a divorce.”
Something flashes in Ranger’s eyes, but it’s gone so quickly I’m unsure what it was.
“We have a dinner with Alexei and his wife tonight.” He adjusts the cuff of his sleeve. His watch isn’t there, but the bracelet I made him still is. “Be here for seven.”
“Ranger,” I say. “You’re not listening to me.”
“Wear red. I like you in red.”
“I am not going to a fucking dinner with you, Ranger. I have left you; I am divorcing you?—”
“No, you’re fucking not.” The bite in his tone has me almost stepping back. “You are not leaving me now. Not ever. Especiallynot for Colt fucking Harland. You will do as you’re told. You will come to this dinner, and you will behave.”
I’m so naïve sometimes that it’s embarrassing. I really hoped I’d be able to have this conversation and walk away with a promise of freedom.
I forgot who I’m dealing with.
“What is the plan, Ranger? Stay here?”
“It was my home long before it was yours. I was denied everything. Now, I’m taking it back. The McEwan name. The empire. Everything.”
