Page 73 of Theirs to Possess: The Marriage Claim

“No, thanks. I’m fine. I have my own vehicle.” I’m sure it will look ridiculous in the driveway of Dorian’s home, but I don’t really care.

“Not optional.”

I clench my jaw. “I prefer to go places by myself.”

“Was there a part ofnot optionalthat you didn’t understand?”

So far, I haven’t been given a moment of privacy, making me wonder if they want me to give up my autonomy completely. “Listen, Dorian?—”

“Isla,” Brennan interrupts softly, leaning as far forward as his safety belt will allow. “There are reasons.”

I sigh. Of course there are. Related to Brennan’s jail stint? Or maybe because of their Mafia ties?

“Your destination, sir?” the driver asks.

Dorian looks to me.

How ridiculous that we’re married and neither of us know where the other lives. And I have no idea where Brennan resides. With a small shake of my head, I give him my address on Wheeler Street.

Thankfully Dorian returns his attention to his phone and begins to tap out curt replies to email. Brennan has his device in hand, but since he’s across from me, I have no idea what he’s looking at.

Because everyone else is occupied, I dig my phone from my purse. The battery is dangerously low, but it should last until I make it home and grab my charger and backup battery.

There are a couple of texts from my sister and Evelyn. And there’s a long list of messages from colleagues and friends from school. All of them are filled with surprise and demanding to know why I hadn’t said anything. And I’m sure a few might have liked an invitation.

On the other hand, they’re not the only ones who were surprised by my marriage.

I scroll through everything that’s unread. There’s nothing from my parents. My shoulders slump a little.

Instantly Brennan looks up. “Everything okay?”

Since I don’t want to explain, I fake smile. “Yes.”

He continues to look at me for a couple of moments before returning his attention to his phone.

How ridiculous am I for hoping either of them had wondered how I am.

Shoving away my disappointment, I read the messages from my sister.

Scandalicious has a whole exposé about you!

I’m not sure I have the stomach to read it.

Hope last night wasn’t too awful. I really am sorry.

At some point, I really need to understand what made her run. What does she know about the men I married?

I’m still lost in my own head as we turn into the small parking lot for my apartment on Wheeler Court.

As the driver parks in front of the two-story, faded 1970s red-brick building, my two men exchange glances.

“Are we in the right place?” Dorian asks.

“Yes.” No doubt they expected I’d live in a much nicer part of town. But Wheeler Court is close to the University of Houston. On nice days, I even walk to campus. Best of all, the small, one-bedroom unit is affordable. “I research relentlessly and teach part-time,” I say, trying not to sound defensive.

When they continue to look at me, I go on. “This is what I can afford.”

“Your fucking father doesn’t help?”