Page 49 of Twisted Proposal

"Acting like a spoiled brat." Artem retrieved his glass and swallowed a long pull, the muscles in his throat working as the liquor disappeared. "You seem to be under some kind of delusion about our current roles. I'd like to clear that up immediately."

He still didn't look at me directly, and somehow that cut deeper than any insult.

"I'm very well aware of my?—"

"No," he interrupted. "You're not. If you were aware of your role, you wouldn't dare barge into my home, flinging accusations and making demands. Who even let you in here?"

I thought of how I bribed the doorman to tell me where he lived, and how he even gave me a ride. Ivan seemed nice. I wouldn't rat him out to the boss. Instead, I shut my mouth and stared him down, my heartbeat a wild thing in my chest.

His nostrils flared, jaw working as he ground his teeth together. Sure, I was being a brat, but he was barely controlling his temper, like I was the unreasonable one in this situation.

"I moved you out of that dorm after you proved you couldn't be trusted to keep yourself safe," he said, each word precisely measured.

"I—"

"Need I remind you I had to leave an important meeting last night to pick you up from a frat party where you were beyond wasted? Do you know what could have happened to you?" His knuckles whitened around the glass, and for a moment I thought it might shatter in his grip.

I smirked as I crossed my arms over my chest, ignoring the way my nipples had hardened against the fabric of my shirt. "Hmmm, let me think. A controlling criminal could barge in and overreact by firing a few bullets in the middle of a frat party and then throw me over his shoulder and kidnap me in his helicopter, embarrassing me in front of the entire student body, just to take me to an expensive hotel and spank me like I'd been a bad girl?"

"Watch. Your. Tone." Each word fell like a hammer blow.

"You watch your tone. I didn't leave the home of one vindictive son of a bitch just to be under the thumb of another," I said.

He sat there, his shoulders tensing, jaw clenched so tight I could practically hear his teeth grinding.

The sight only fueled my anger.

My skin felt tight, like my clothes were too small, and there was a buzzing of irritation and desire running over me.

"I need to know why," I demanded as I started pacing the room, unable to stay still. "Why go through all this trouble? Act like you are going to let me live my life just to take it all from me?"

"I took nothing from you." He took another sip of the drink, then set it back down, ready to leave another wet ring on the table.

"Really?" I stopped in front of him, blocking his view of his kingdom and forcing him to look at me, acknowledge me.

"Fine, princess," he said, his eyes finally meeting mine, the full force of his attention hitting me like a physical blow. "Tell me what's bothering you. Is there a pea under your new three-thousand-dollar mattress? Your new clothes too soft? Too warm? Or are you just pissed off you aren't going to graduate with crippling student debt like every other American?"

"No," I seethed, before snatching his glass and slamming it down on the coaster next to him. "I'm pissed that you are treating me like some doll you own. I never asked for you to buy me clothes, or even pay my tuition?—"

"You said you wanted to go to?—"

"I know what I said," I shouted, my voice echoing off the high ceilings. "You asked me what I wanted, and I told you I wanted an education. I never said I wanted to be treated like a possession or put in your debt. I didn't ask for a sugar daddy or a sponsor."

"Is that why you're acting like a child? You think I am going to hold your tuition over your head?" He remained calm, but there was a tightly coiled tension in his body, in the way he leaned forward, muscles bunched beneath his shirt.

If I had been a smarter woman, it would have warned me to back off.

"No, I'm upset because you are treating me like a child. You don't get to ground me for drinking. I'm of age. It may have been a stupid mistake, but it was my mistake to make. You don't get to terrorize the people I spend my time with. Amy ran from me today."

"Are those all your rules, princess?" he said, still with no threat in his voice, no mocking, nothing. Artem was hard to read, and I couldn't help but wonder if that was part of what had gotten my father killed.

He tried to play Artem and never saw his wrath coming. Was I making the same mistake?

I probably should have shut up, but I was just so done being a pawn in someone else's game.

"No," I bit out. "You don't get to give me an avenue to achieve my dreams and then toy with my ability to succeed."

"I don't know what you are talking about."