Page 72 of Arrow

Mrs. Montalto’s nervous laughter cut through the tension. “We should take final measurements while you two discuss. Yuri, would you like some champagne while we wait?”

Arrow didn’t break eye contact with me. “Leave us.”

The room cleared instantly. Mrs. Montalto and her assistants scurried away like mice fleeing a predator. Yuri lingered at the door before Arrow dismissed him with a slight nod.

When the door closed, Arrow circled me slowly, his eyes tracking every inch of lace and skin.

“You’re making a scene,” he said quietly.

“And you’re making decisions about my body without my consent,” I countered.

He stopped behind me, his breath warm against my bare shoulder. “Your consent was given the moment you accepted this arrangement.”

“I never accepted anything. I was sold.”

His fingers traced the lace pattern down my spine—soft, but firm enough that I couldn’t ignore the touch.

“And yet here you stand, wearing my collar, trying on dresses for our wedding.”

I whirled away from his touch, nearly tripping on the dress’s hem. “Don’t touch me.”

“You didn’t mind my touch two nights ago,” he said, his voice dangerously soft.

Heat flooded my face as the memory crashed through me. His fingers inside me, and my body betraying me as I came apart on his table. I hated him for bringing it up.

“That was a mistake,” I said through gritted teeth.

His laugh was cold. “Was it? Your body seemed quite certain.”

I faced him, chin up, refusing to be intimidated. “You can force me to marry you. You can force me to wear this dress. But you can’t force me to want you.”

“I don’t need to force that particular issue, Harlowe. Your body does the wanting for you.”

“My body doesn’t know any better.”

“And what about your mind?” He stepped closer, backing me against the mirror. “What does it want?”

“Freedom,” I whispered, the word catching in my throat.

There was a subtle change in his expression, like watching a predator recalculate its approach.

“Freedom is an illusion,” he said. “No one is truly free. Not me. Not you. Not even the richest man in Manhattan.”

“That’s what captors tell their prisoners to make them feel better about the bars. And it’s especially what men like you say to justify keeping women like me in cages.”

His jaw tightened. “A cage?”

“What would you call it?” I gestured around us. “I’m being forced to marry a man I hate, wearing a dress I don’t want, living in a house that isn’t mine, all because of a deal made on my behalf.”

Arrow’s eyes darkened to midnight. “You think I wanted this any more than you did? That I woke up one day and thought, ‘I’d like to marry a spoiled Virelli princess with a death wish’?”

“Then why are you doing this?” I demanded. “Why not just kill me like your family killed my brother, then take my father’s empire from him? It’s not like it’d be difficult for a Romanov to take something that wasn’t theirs to begin with.”

“Maybe I should. You’re worth more dead than alive.”

I felt the air leave my lungs. “Then do it. Fucking do it, Arrow. Kill me right now if that’s what you want.”

Hands shot out—gripping my upper arms—and he backed me into the mirror with such force that it rattled against the wall.