Page 56 of Claimed

“That’s not the point!” Trish smacked her hand down on the counter between them. Where was her anger was coming from? Had it been pent-up, hidden down where she didn’t want to think about it? Or was she trying to start a fight? Did she want his attention? A spanking? Or to make him feel bad? Or was the answer somewhere in between all the possibilities and maybe a little bit of everything? “You took me from my life! I know, I know—you are all okay with it. I know it’s better than what used to happen when your dad was in charge. I know all of you even expect it might happen, and we get a choice on whether or not to stay, but the choice doesn’t happen untilafter! And I didn’t grow up here. I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know it was a possibility!”

She panted, slightly wrung out by everything she’d thrown at him, her breathing ragged. Jordan stared back at her, looking both confused and a little taken aback.

Had she challenged his worldview the way he’d challenged so many of hers? Part of her felt like laughing, but if she started, Trish was afraid she might become hysterical. Because it wasn’t funny.

So, she clamped her lips shut, clenching her jaw against any further words or hysterical laughter until Jordan responded to what she’d already said.

The silence stretched between them, with Trish glaring and Jordan staring at her with that little furrow wrinkled on his forehead.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he said, finally.

The urge to smush tomato in his face grew stronger. “I want you to say you’re sorry for taking me!”

“But I’m not sorry for taking you.” His explanation was matter of fact, maybe even a little smug.

“But you shouldn’t have kidnapped me, right?”

He raised an eyebrow. “What should I have done instead?”

“Asked me out for coffee?”

“Would you have said yes?”

She opened her mouth… and then hesitated.

Trish tried to imagine a situation where huge, intimidating Jordan could have approached her to ask her out for coffee and have received a positive response. She would have been terrified of him on sight. Even now, he intimidated her sometimes.

“That’s not the point,” she insisted. “You could have tried. You could have worked on getting to know me so I would feel comfortable around you and then asked me out for coffee or dinner.”

“Is that how things are done on the Moon?” He seemed genuinely curious.

Trish hesitated again. “Sometimes. With some people. Not everyone. Is everyone here kidnapped into a relationship?”

“No. But I knew what kind of relationship I wanted.” He picked up a new tomato, apparently feeling she was now calmer and he could focus on making their meal. “I just needed to show you how it could be. I do not think you would have agreed to the kind of relationship we have now, do you? Not without knowing how it could be.”

“Fine,” Trish snapped. She was mad, because he had a point. She would never have agreed to trying. Trish was still sometimes surprised she had agreed to being in a relationship like this, even with how much it fulfilled her. But she still had a point, too. “That doesn’t make it any less wrong.”

“Fine,” Jordan said, slicing into the tomato. “Taking people is wrong.”

“Are you sorry for it?”

“No, because that would mean I’m sorry for having you. I will never be sorry for having you.”

Sweet. Frustrating. Infuriating. The answer was so very Jordan and yet so aggravating, as well.

She wouldn’t get any more of an admission of guilt or any kind of apology out of him, and Trish slid down from her seat at the counter, disgruntled.

Even in admitting what he’d done was wrong, Jordan wouldn’t be be sorry for it because, to him, the ends justified the means. Could she argue with Jordan when she’d chosen to stay with him anyway? It was hard to claim any kind of moral high ground when she’d been complicit in making him feel the outcome had been worth it.

“Where are you going?” He paused in his work and looked up at her.

“Outside.”

“No. I’ll go out with you after we eat if you want. Sit back down, little girl.”

Calling her ‘little girl’ had been a warning, which Trish ignored. She was restless and unsatisfied by their argument.

“Fuck off. I’m going out.” She started to turn to go, but Jordan moved, and she heard his low growl. Instead of the stately walk Trish had planned, with her head held high, she squeaked and bolted.