She falls through the door with a shout of surprise, landing hard onto my lap. I have to choke back a laugh at the shock on her face, judging that it isn’t worth the punch she’d throw at me for it.

She looks frantically around the car, bunching her fists as she tries to identify the threat.

I mentally pat myself on the back for being right about the punch.

She swivels in my grasp, her eyes locking hard onto my own when she finally has me in view.

“Hello, darling.” I say in my sexiest voice.

From the murder in her eyes, I’d say it’s not having the desired effect.

“Oh, motherfucker,” she swears. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Okay Perce,” I say seriously, holding my hands up in truce, “I know you’re pissed, but I needed to talk to you.”

“That’s what fucking phones are for, jackass.”

“Excellent point. Would you have answered?”

She breaks eye contact, almost looking guilty. Almost. The look passes in a flash. Her face is completely unaccustomed to the expression.

In its place, a sneer forms.

“No,” she answers bluntly. “I wouldn’t have answered. But you know what? It’s my fucking choice, Anton. I don’t have to talk to you. We’re over, remember?”

“Percy—”

“Nah. Fuck you, I’m leaving.”

She starts to get up, her body parting from mine for the barest second.

Obviously I didn’t go through all this trouble just for her to leave now—from a moving vehicle, no less. I stop her before she does something stupid—like trying to tuck and roll out of my life.

“Afraid not,” I say, grabbing hold of her.

She lands in the seat beside me with a growl.

“I hate when you do that,” she pouts.

“And I hate when you try to jump into traffic.” I say.

She glares daggers at me, her eyes practically burning into my own.

They fucking smolder, cutting right through me.

God I love this fucking woman.

And here’s the real kicker. Whether she wants to admit it or not, she fucking loves me too. I see it plain as day, her feelings for me heavy in her own gaze.

My cock throbs just looking at her. My hand print is clear on her face, just as I feel hers burning its way onto mine.

We sit staring at each other for a moment that seems like an eternity. Our eyes are unblinking, communicating more than we dare do with words.

Her chest rises and falls quickly, her breathing more intense than it has any reason to be. I know she’s as fucking turned on as I am. Without a doubt, she’s fucking dripping into her thong, even as she glares at me.

I’ll bet its taking every ounce of her practically non-existent self control to keep herself off my lap. To keep her distance.

I know she’s telling herself to run. I know part of her wants to open the door and sprint right back to her friends and her old life. The only problem is, she can’t. Her own body won’t let her.

After all her blustering and commit phobic bullshit, at the end of the day, she can’t even bring herself to blink.

On some level, she’s as fixated on me as I am on her.

I intend to make her see it.

She breaks the silence first, blowing a stray lock out of her face with a huff.

“What the fuck do you want then?”

I can’t help but sigh.

“What do you think I want Percy?”

“I told you, it’s not gonna happen Anton. I’m not the marrying kind, alright? I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”

“Bullshit.”

“Oh, fuck you! You said you wanted to talk and now you don’t wanna hear the truth? Fine. Pull over, I’ll get out here.”

“You fucking love me Percy. Admit it.”

She laughs, a sound completely devoid of humor.

“Sorry, that’s just not true.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh.

“See? Bullshit. You love me, why else would you agree to marry me?”

She looks uncertain for the briefest moment.

“I told you, I don’t know. Let’s just think of it as temporary insanity, okay?”

“We belong together,” I growl, ignoring her. “That’s why you agreed to marry me. You know as well as I do, you’re just too damn stubborn to admit it.”

“People don’t belong together Anton. I think you’ve been reading one too many fairy tales. Let’s be clear babe, this isn’t a Cinderella story. We’re not gonna ride off into the sunset, I won’t be your little princess, and I damn sure am not gonna move into a castle with you and your fucking psychotic mother.”

I growl in response. Not about my mother—that part, at least, is pretty accurate. The rest though, makes me grind my teeth in anger.

“If I wanted a little princess, I’d damn sure have one by now. I only want you, you crazy bitch, and you want me too!”

She lets out that laugh again, more insult than humor.

“Right. Just me, huh, is that why you married someone else?” She chuckles, “How is your wife anyway?”

“What are you—”

“No, enough. This way fun Anton. Really, it was. But we’re over. I don’t care how many fancy cars you drag me into, we’re done. Sooner or later, you’re gonna have to accept it.”

“Percy, just fucking listen to me—”

The car travels over a bump in the road and it tousles us around in the back seat. Percy’s already pissed off at me, and the sudden movement doesn’t help. She lashes out.

“Pull over!” she yells, this time directing her anger at Paul, who’s done nothing wrong this entire time. I know he’s conflicted. Percy is terrifying when she’s pissed to most people.

But he continues to stare ahead, as unblinking as Percy was a moment before.

“I swear to God,” she yells. “If you don’t pull this car over, I’m gonna take that stupid hat off your head and ram it down your throat.”

Now, Paul’s a pretty unshakable guy; it’s one of the reasons we get along so well. However, at Percy’s threat, even he cringes a bit.

I don’t really blame him.

Most men don’t know how to handle Persephone Owens’ rage like I do.

I grab her face with both hands, turning her to face me.

“Wife, Percy,” I demand as she claws at my fingers, “You’re not making any sense. Who do you think my wife is?”

Her nails bite into my hand a second more. Just as I’m about to release her, I feel them fall away.

She sits very still, eyes taking on a far away look.

“Percy?” I ask.

“Oh no,” she gasps.

“Percy, what’s wrong?”

I watch her eyes roam around the interior of the limo, taking it all in.

“You son of a bitch,” she says distantly. “I remember…”

And then, it begins.