Page 10 of The Billionaire's Bride

"Please don’t call me that," I whisper.

"Why?" he growls, and I glance away.

"Tell me why I can't call you by the nickname I gave you?" he demands.

I bite the inside of my cheek, refuse to meet his gaze.

"Is it because you don't like the name anymore?"

"No," I protest, "it's not that."

"Then?" He scowls. "What is it?"

"It's just that Baron... He..."

Edward's gaze intensifies. "Motherfucker," he snarls. "It's because he calls you by the same name, isn't it?"

When I don’t reply, his jaw hardens. "Yet another thing he took away from me."

"I am not anyone’s to take," I insist. "I am my own woman."

"And you are mine."

"I… I am not sure about that."

"Stop that." He pulls me onto his lap. "You belong to me. That’s it. End of story."

"If only things were that simple."

"It is that simple." He brings his big palm up to cup my face again, in a gesture that is so Edward, so dominant, yet so sweet that I feel like bursting into tears right then.

I glance away. "It’s not, Ed. Things are much more complicated,"

His shoulders tense. "Because of him."

"You can say his name, you know," I chide him. "After all, he is your friend."

"Not anymore."

"You trusted him enough to ask him to look after me."

"Big mistake," he growls. "I wish there had been another way out."

"You could have stayed," I remind him.

"I’d have only destroyed whatever it was you felt for me, if I had."

"You changed what I felt for you."

"Did I, Eve?" He rakes his gaze across my features, "Or are you simply confused because he fucked you?"

"Edward!" Only when his head snaps back, do I realize that I’ve slapped him.

"Shit." I pull away from him, "Shit, shit, shit."What’s happening to me?First Baron, then Edward. I’ve slapped both of them. Before I’d met them, I’d never slapped a single person in my life… If you didn’t count my sister, growing up. But really, I’ve never lost my temper and now… I can’t go a day without striking one or the other.

"I’m sorry," I mutter, "it’s just what you said—"

"No, I’m sorry." Edward sits up against the pillow. "That was wrong. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just, coming back to being shot, then seeing the two of you together…" he shakes his head, "I am making excuses. Nothing pardons how I insulted you." He drags his fingers through his already mussed-up hair. The usually composed Father—no longer Father—the usually unflappable Edward, all riled up and wearing a hospital gown… Not to mention that he’s unshaven. The beard on his chin only adds to his rumpled appeal. And then, he had apologized. Not to say that when he’d been Father Edward, he’d been impolite, but his dominant traits had been tightly leashed. Hidden under a control that had been both thrilling and scary to observe. Now, it’s as if his personality is tumbling out and he isn’t quite sure how to handle it.