Page 17 of Arrow

“You’re disgusting,” she whispered.

I smiled. “And you’re mine.”

Stepping back, I straightened my tie. “Finish your breakfast. We have an appointment.”

“What appointment?” Suspicion narrowed her eyes.

“Wedding rings.” I checked my watch. “The jeweler is expecting us in an hour.”

Her laugh was brittle enough to shatter. “You’re delusional if you think I’m picking out rings with you.”

“I didn’t ask what you thought,” I replied.

She crossed her arms, her stance widening as if preparing for battle. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

I sighed, feigning disappointment. “Then I’ll select them myself. Perhaps something restrictive.” I gestured to her neck where my collar had been. “To match.”

Her nostrils flared. “You’re a monster.”

“So they tell me.” I moved to the door. “You have two minutes to decide, Harlowe. Come willingly, or I’ll have Frank carry you to the car.”

* Fucking Bastard

6

SIX

HARLOWE

The fucker left me standing there, fury bubbling through my veins like acid. I wanted to run after him, grab the closest heavy object, and smash his skull in. But something told me that’s exactly what he wanted—to provoke me into acting like a child so he could punish me like one.

I took a deep breath, my hands shaking. The food in my stomach churned, threatening to come back up. I wasn’t used to eating after days of starvation, and my body was rebelling against the sudden nourishment.

Frank appeared in the doorway. “He’s waiting.”

“I know,” I said, swallowing bile. “Let’s just get this over with.”

His face was a mask. He’d spent decades perfecting that look—a blankness that revealed nothing and everything at once. I used to think it meant he cared. Now I wondered if it was just pity.

“He’s not like the others,” he said quietly.

“Spare me the Stockholm syndrome speech,” I snapped. “He’s exactly like the others.”

I grabbed my purse, checking that my phone was inside. Not that it would help me escape. Arrow probably already had a tracker on it. I shrugged past Frank, refusing to let him see how shaken I was. That was the worst part of all this. Not just Arrow’s arrogance or my father’s betrayal, but how Frank watched it all happen with that same stoic expression. As if my life being traded away was just another Tuesday.

The polished black car waited outside, engine purring. Arrow stood beside it, sunglasses on despite the overcast sky, looking like he’d stepped out of a magazine spread for “Sociopaths Monthly.”

I approached with my chin high, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cower.

“Good choice,” he said, opening the door for me like we were on some fucked-up date.

“Don’t mistake compliance for surrender,” I said, sliding into the seat.

The leather was cool against my bare legs. I’d wished I’d worn something less revealing. The dress Arrow had picked clung to places I didn’t want him noticing.

He got in beside me, close enough that I could smell his cologne—something expensive and subtle that reminded me of leather and smoke. I pressed myself against the door, creating as much distance as possible.

“Where are we really going?” I asked as the car pulled away from my father’s house. “Because if you think I’m picking out wedding rings with you, you’re delusional.”