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A single tear escaped, tracking a glistening path down her flushed cheek. My hand moved of its own accord, thumb brushing away the tear. "You love me."

She loves me.

The realization crashed through my defenses, laying waste to carefully constructed walls, leaving me dangerously exposed.

"Go to hell." Her voice cracked on the last syllable.

"Only if I can take you with me."

I claimed her mouth in a punishing kiss, pouring all my fury, my possession, my obsession into the press of my lips against hers.

Her softness yielded to the hardness of my demand even as she made a sound of protest in the back of her throat.

My tongue swept inside and my body pressed her harder against the mirror, leaving her nowhere to retreat, demanding surrender.

I consumed her, devoured her, tasted the sweetness that belonged only to me.

My hand wound into her hair, entwining the silken strands in my fingers, tugging her head back to deepen the angle.

She bit my tongue, delivering a sharp sting of pain.

Copper filled my mouth, hot and wet, mingling with her taste.

The pain shot straight to my groin, hardening me further against her belly.

I lurched backward.

The tang of my own blood lingered on my lips, evidence of her defiance, her willingness to draw blood rather than surrender.

Seething, I reached into my inner coat pocket and pulled out the engagement ring I had made for her.

The massive diamond threw fire and light across the walls.

It was a statement, but not of love. Of dominion. A shackle forged in platinum and ice.

A 27-carat Asscher-cut diamond, cold and merciless in its clarity, mined from my family's private South African shaft and set in a platinum band forged from the same alloy used in their first trade deal a century ago.

She thrust her arms behind her, pressing them against the mirror, her defiance magnificent even in defeat.

I wrenched her left arm forward, wrapping my fingers tightly around her delicate wrist. The bones beneath my grip felt fragile, breakable. My little bird.

I could snap her arm with minimal effort, yet it was she who held the true power to destroy.

The contrast of my tanned skin against her creamy flesh was a stark visual reminder of the power I held over her. My fingerprints left red marks that would darken into bruises, tattooing her with evidence of this moment.

The ring flashed in my hand as I seized her struggling fingers.

"It belonged to no one before you," I murmured, forcing it onto her finger. The metal slid past her knuckle, encircling her flesh with cold permanence. "Just as you will belong to no one but me."

My threat vibrated between us, primitive and possessive.

Her chin tilted upward, lips curling with contempt. "This means nothing."

"The hell it doesn't," I growled, gripping her jaw between my thumb and forefinger, angling her face upward.

Her pulse raced beneath my touch, a frantic bird beating against the cage of my fingers.

"Now every man who looks at you—including your bastard of a father—will know. You're the property of the House of Diamanti—collared, claimed, and caged."