Page 29 of A Forbidden Arrangement
My name sits there in black ink, steady and permanent. Beside it, in clean print, a title that makes my blood freeze.
Spouse of Alexander Nikos Everette.
My stomach drops.
Below, my signature waits, every curve exact, even the slight hitch at the end. It looks real. Too real.
“No.” The word rasps out, broken. My hands shake so hard the page rattles. “I didn’t sign this. I would never?—”
He laughs, rich and low, like I just told a joke. “You already did.”
I can’t make my gaze move off the lines on the paper. My stomach tries to fold in. My chest locks tight. The world narrows to the proof he’s shown.
The paper crumples under my grip as my hand lowers. That’s when I see it. My ring finger. Inked in neat black script. His name. Not a band of gold. Not something I could slip off. Permanent. Branded into me while I was unconscious.
My stomach heaves when I bring it closer to my face and see the red swelling around the letters. It’s a real fucking tattoo. His name. On me.
“What did you do?” The words rip out of me, high and shaking. I shove my hand at him, his name burning against my skin. “Look at it! What the hell is wrong with you?”
He doesn’t move. His gaze drags down to my finger. His mouth curves, faint, smug.
He says, voice low, “Looks good on you.”
The sound that claws out of me is halfway between a laugh and a scream. My pulse thrashes in my ears. “Good?Good? You branded me like an animal!”
He bites back a smile.
“You think this is funny?” I spit, voice climbing. “You think marking me like I’m property is some kind of fucking romantic gesture?”
His eyes lift to mine, steady, unbothered. “Not property.Wife.”
The word guts me. A cold crack shoots through my chest. “You forged papers. You put your name on me. You think any of this isreal?”
“I don’tthink,” he says, calm as ever. “I know.”
The laugh that bursts out of me sounds hysterical, even to my own ears. “You’re insane. You’re a fucking psycho.”
His gaze flicks back to my finger, then up again. “You’ll get used to it.”
The words slam into me hard. Used to it. Like it’s already decided. Like I have no say.
Tears sting, hot and useless. “Why?” My voice cracks jaggedly. “Why would you do this? What is wrong with you? Aren’t you here to kill me?”
The question hangs between us. For the first time, something shifts across his face. His brows pull together, his mouth flattening as he goes perfectly still. There’s a pull there that suggests he didn’t expect to hear that from me.
“Kill you?” The words grind out like they don’t belong in his mouth. “That’s the last fucking thing I’d ever do.”
I freeze.
He looks thrown and honest for a second, which only makes him more dangerous. Xander leans in, swallowing the space I fought to keep. His body looms over me, his voice dropping lower, iron-edged. “No one touches you.”
The weight of it presses down, choking.
His gaze doesn’t waver. “You’re safe with me now.”
Safe.The word cuts me open.
“Safe? How could I ever be safe with you?” I choke on a laugh, hollow and bitter. “Look at me and tell me you’re not a killer.” My throat burns. Rage rises, replacing the fear, and I let it. It’s the only thing that lets me keep my head above water.
