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“A few,” he repeats, amusement curling through his voice as he wraps his arm around me and pulls me into his hip before kissing my temple. “You know I want a big family like mine, sweetheart. At least five.”
My smile faltering and stomach flipping, I immediately regret toying with him. Because, judging by the confidence in his expression, he intends to make good on fathering each and every one of them.
Kiki grins. “Oh my God. You guys are going to be such a beautiful family.”
“We’re looking forward to it,” I hear myself say, the lie tasting dangerously close to the truth.
Vance’s grip tightens on my thigh beneath the table, a silent reward for playing my part. I keep my expression composed, even as the warmth of his touch spreads through me, painfully aware of how easily he can make me forget where the performance ends and my own feelings begin.
He has taken so much from me—my choices, my future, the life I thought I was going to have—and somehow, the most terrifying part is that he has begun taking something else, too. My resistance. The certainty that I would never want this—or him—wanes monumentally with each day that passes.
As I war silently with my thoughts about my marriage, Kiki chatters on about her classes, a boy named Julian who keeps mysteriously finding reasons to bump into her on campus, and the sorority she’s pledging. Her easy excitement is a welcome distraction from the knot of conflicting emotions twisting inside me.
Before I know it, a few hours have passed, and Kiki is standing by the elevator with a bag of pastries Vance insisted she take back to campus. “You seriously didn’t have to give me all this.”
“You’ll eat it,” I tell her. “Make sure you share with Harper.”
She laughs and pulls me into a hug. I cling to her for a moment longer than necessary, breathing her in and holding on to the last piece of my life that existed before Vance. “Love you,” she murmurs against my shoulder before letting go and stepping into the elevator.
“Love you more,” I insist as the elevator doors slide shut between us.
“You were perfect,” he praises, his mouth finding my neck the moment we’re alone.
“I hate lying to her,” I grit. “She doesn’t know what you did. What this really is.”
But even as I say them, the words feel hollow in my mouth. Because I don’t know what this really is. As his hands snake around my body, I realize with a sickening lurch that I am happy. Against every principle, my own sanity, and the very definition of what happiness should be, I am happy with him.
“She knows everything she needs to,” he counters, his fingers sliding under the hem of my dress and pulling my panties to the side. “All she needs to know is that you’re my wife. That you’re taken care of. And that you’re going to be a mother soon.”
His fingertip dusts over my clit, and I press my back into his chest, hating myself for the moan that escapes my lips.
“This is what matters,” he continues, his voice rough with desire as his fingers slide to the plug still lodged in my pussy. “You and me. And the heir you’ll carry. The life we’ll have.” He gives a gentle tug, moving the silicone slightly but not pulling it from me. “Tell me you want it, sweetheart. Tell me you want the life I want to give you.”
I should push him away and protect the fragments of my heart that still belong to me. Instead, meaning it more than I’ve meant anything in my life, I whisper, “I want it.”
“That’s my good girl.” He smiles against my neck. After pulling the cum-covered plug from me and letting it fall to the floor, he scoops me into his arms. “Now, let’s get you back to bed. Your ovulation window is closing, and I intend to take full advantage of every hour we have left.”
As he carries me to the bedroom, I catch sight of our reflection in the window—him strong and possessive; me soft and yielding—both caught in this twisted, toxic thing that is starting to feel dangerously like love.
The drive to my mother’s estate in the suburbs takes forty minutes—long enough for Sophia to fidget with the hem of her dress, her fingers trembling as she stares out the window at the passing cityscape. I watch her from the corner of my eye, cataloging the way the late-afternoon light catches the hollow of her throat and the rapid fluttering of her pulse. She’s wearing the sapphire dress I selected for her, one that brings out the gorgeous shade of her eyes. Though I chose it less for the color and more for the way it clings to her curves, which I can’t seem to get enough of these days.
“Nervous?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
She glances at me. “Your brothers are going to be there.”
“Yes, they are,” I reply, knowing she wasn’t asking.
“You know what I mean.”
I do. My brothers have never liked Sophia. Not personally. And sure as hell not professionally. For years, she’s been one of the biggest thorns in their collective side at the company. She constantly questions decisions they expect everyone to accept, challenges our strategies in meetings, and calls out mistakes instead of politely looking the other way. When we push, she pushes harder.
Simply put, she’s always been a pain in the ass. My father respected that about her. My brothers never did.
She pissed me off on a regular basis, too, but I fucking loved her brazenness. Unlike everyone else in my world, Sophia had never been intimidated by me. She’d stand toe-to-toe with me without hesitation, challenge me without apology, and never once seemed to care whether I liked what she had to say.
And then there were her looks. They were the other problem. Long blonde hair, those impossible blue eyes, and curves that had no business being attached to someone who spent so much time making me want to put my fist through a wall. She had a waist made for my hands, hips that filled out every dress she wore, and legs that seemed to go on forever.
I’d noticed every fucking inch of her from the first moment my father marched her into a meeting. The only reason I hadn’t fucked her sooner was Roman. He picked up on my interest almost immediately, and his warning had been blunt enough to make the message impossible to misunderstand. Sophia was his protégé, and she was off-limits. So I kept my hands to myself. Well, on anyone but her.
