Page 15 of Wrong Marriage. Right Groom
Then his tone shifted—mocking.
“Tell you what,” he said. “I’m feeling generous tonight.”
My stomach dropped.
“If you apologize to me right now...” he continued, dragging the moment out, savoring it, “...properly—on your knees, maybe—I might go easy on you.”
He went on, his voice dripping with cruel amusement:
“Something like...” he drawled, exaggerating every word, “‘Oh, Sir Bruno, I had no idea it was someone as powerful as you who honored me with a touch. Forgive this stupid blind girl.’”
My hands curled slowly into fists at my sides.
“Say that,” he finished softly, “and maybe I’ll only make you pay asmallprice for embarrassing me in front of everyone.”
I said nothing, but inside me, fear coiled tighter and tighter, squeezing my lungs, clawing at my ribs—yet beneath it, anger burned hotter.
I let out a slow breath.
And then—
I smiled defiantly and tilted my head slightly toward where his voice had last come from.
My fingers curled tighter.
“Mr. Bruno, you assaulted me publicly, in front of everyone,” I said calmly. “You treated me as though I were someone without dignity, without rights. I know exactly who you are—the brotherof the richest man in this city. I know your family’s name opens doors, buries scandals, perhaps even makes people disappear.”
I tilted my head slightly toward him, my smile faint but unyielding.
“But I am not someone you can humiliate and simply walk away from as though it meant nothing. What you did was wrong. It was a violation. And if slapping you bruised your ego...” I let out a slow breath. “Then perhaps it was deserved.”
My voice remained far too calm for the speed at which my heart was racing.
“I’m not sorry for it,” I said evenly. “And I will not be apologizing.”
“Oh... really?” he murmured.
Before I could react, his hand lashed out again.
His fingers clamped around my chin, harder this time, forcing my head back sharply.
Pain shot through my jaw.
A soft sound escaped me before I could stop it.
My skin crawled violently, a wave of revulsion crashing through me so strong it nearly knocked the breath out of my lungs.
“Mr. Bruno...” I forced the words through clenched teeth, my voice strained but controlled. “Bullying a blind woman alone in her own apartment is hardly a display of strength. You know perfectly well I am not your equal physically.”
I swallowed hard, my nails digging into my palms to anchor myself.
“And for the record, I do not enjoy being touched. Not casually, not forcefully—not at all. Especially not by men. So I would appreciate it if you stopped gripping my chin as though you intend to leave your fingerprints carved into it.”
His hold tightened anyway.
“Take your hands off me,” I managed, each word edged with steel despite the tremor beneath it.
For a split second—
