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“Would you care if I told you that you earned their respect tonight?” he asked.

I laughed partly from being tipsy and partly because of the absurdity of it all. The concept of me earning respect from a bunch of crime lords while I was being forced into marriage with one of their own was so ridiculous.

I turned my head and he was looking at me with heat in his eyes, the same he had in Nassau and in that storage room at Luxe. I bit my lip and looked away first.

My phone vibrated in my bag.

Gideon

Since you’re marrying into money, the balance just went up. I want five hundred thousand. I’m feeling generous, so I’ll give you an extra three weeks to figure it out.

A cold chill ran through me. I was trapped between two men who wanted to own me and neither of them gave a fuck about how I felt about it.

When we got back to the penthouse, it was dark, save for the lights above the island.

I stepped out of my heels at the door and set my clutch on the entryway cabinet, exhaustion settling over me. I stumbled, drunk from all the champagne I drank.

“Whoa,” Cardez said, catching me before I fell flat on my face. My palms landed on his firm chest as his arms went around my waist.

When I looked up, his face was close enough to see the amber flecks in his eyes even in the low light.

I didn’t move as he pressed me into him just enough that I could feel his growing hardness against my thigh.

My breath hitched as his eyes dropped to my mouth and his free hand came up to my face. My whole body lit up, and my pussy was telling me to fuck the bullshit and jump on him.

Every part of me had gone rogue tonight, my body making decisions without consulting my brain first.

His mouth was right there—right fucking there—and I felt him waiting. Not for permission. This nigga had never asked permission for a damn thing. He wanted me to break this impasse we were at because his stubborn ass wasn’t going to.

And my dumb ass was two seconds from breaking it too.

I was pissed at how turned on I was, and I couldn’t blame the alcohol anymore. My fingers had curled into his shirt at some point, and I shifted into him again, feeling how hard he was. His hand was around the base of my neck, thumb pressing into my pulse point where he could feel how fast my heart was going.

“Dez—”

His lips grazed mine. The faintest brush sent a current straight down my spine that I felt in my toes.

I pushed him away.

Not hard or with an attitude, because I didn’t have any fight left in me tonight. I just needed air before I did something stupid that I’d regret in the morning.

“I need to go to bed,” I said softly.

He let out a frustrated sound that rumbled through his chest, his hand tightening around my neck before he let go and stepped back. He shoved his hands in his pockets like he needed to put them somewhere—anywhere that wasn’t on my body.

I inhaled, turned around and headed toward the bedroom again.

“Goodnight, Belle.” His voice was tight like something in him was straining against a leash.

I didn’t respond and kept walking to the guest room. If I answered, I knew I’d end up fucking him. My legs felt like they were made of jelly, my thighs pressed together trying to stop the throbbing that was pulsing through me.

I took off my dress and got into bed without washing off my makeup. The sheets were cold against my bare skin, but I could still feel where his fingers had been on me.

I pressed my face into the pillow and screamed.

I hated him and I still wanted him. Badly. And the longer this went on the thinner the line between those two things got.

28 CARDEZ MONTAGUE