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“Over my dead body.” My hands curl into fists in my lap, nails digging into my palms so hard they might break skin. “I won’t be some pawn in this family’s game. If I choose a husband, it’ll be becauseIwant him, not because you tell me to.”

“Eat.” His lips curl at the corners, almost a smirk. “Your food is getting cold.”

Cold? Everything is cold. The food, the air, the way they’ve already moved on to another conversation like my future hasn’t just been decided for me.

I barely hear them as they discuss Gregory’s upcoming birthday party, my mind spiraling.

There has to be a way out of this. There’s no way in hell I’m gonna let this happen. If Konstantin thinks he can decide my life for me, he’s about to learn just how wrong he is.

I will not be forced into marriage. Not to some Quinn. Not to anyone.

I need to find a way out of this if it’s the last thing I do.

CHAPTER37

CILLIAN

Skippingthis party for her brother’s tenth birthday would’ve been smarter, but I couldn’t stay away. I need to see her.

I know she doesn’t want me here, and I pretend it doesn’t bother me, but it does. Fucking her at the club just isn’t enough. I want more. I need more. And I want her to give it to me. Willingly.

I watch her, the wind stirring her dark hair, soft waves dancing in the breeze. My eyes drink in the sight of her, so fucking perfect in that pale blue dress that hits just above her knees, those long legs tucked into heels that make my blood simmer. She's perfection.

And when she sees me, I catch the fleeting panic in her eyes. She squeezes the hand of the woman beside her, a silent signal to escape, but she doesn’t move fast enough.

“Dinara.” Her name is like a command on my tongue.

I close the distance, my fingers snapping around her wrist before she can vanish into the crowd. The guests glance at us, curiosity written all over their faces, but I don’t care. I pull her into a quiet corner of Konstantin’s estate, away from prying eyes.

“What do you want, Cillian?” Her voice cuts through the air, stony and sharp. “I thought we agreed we don’t exchange words unless your dick is inside me.”

I can’t help the chuckle that rumbles from my chest. “If that’s the case, I’ll take you upstairs right now. We can have a proper discussion.”

Those cheeks flush, eyes narrowing with disdain.

“Not happening,” she shoots back. “The club is all you’ll have, and even that’s more than you deserve.”

I lean in closer, my thumb brushing under her jaw. “That’s not enough.”

“It’ll have to be.” Her brow lifts in defiance. “I told you, you and I are in the past. There’s nothing left between us. Not anything that matters, anyway.”

The words land like a punch. “Is that what you tell yourself when you’re alone in bed, thinking about me?” I trail my knuckles up her arm, slow and deliberate, and she inhales sharply. “Tell me, Dinara. When you’re touching that perfect pussy, are you pretending it’s someone else in your bed, or is it still me?”

She huffs, her finger digging into my chest as if to push me away. “You don’t occupy any of my private thoughts. And you never will.”

I grab her wrist, yanking it toward my mouth. I kiss the pulse point, the delicate skin there, feeling the rapid beat under my lips.

“You’re such a dirty liar, baby.” The truth slides off my tongue like honey, thick with temptation. “I bet if I touched you right now, you'd be wet and greedy for me to make it better.”

A sharp slap across my face cuts through the tension. I laugh, low and dark, because I’ve gotten under her skin, and she knows it. My hand slips toward the V of her dress, knuckles brushing down the flesh peeking through. Goose bumps rise in the wake of my touch, and my grin deepens.

“I love getting a rise out of you.”

Her lips part, breaths quickening as if she's losing the battle against whatever's building between us.

“I heard Konstantin wants to find you a husband. You know I can’t ever let that happen.”

“It’s funny that you still think you have some say in my life.”