4

Vivian’s POV

“Yes,” I said, looking straight into Derek's haughty, judgmental eyes. "I'm looking for Mr. Blackwell."

Derek’s face did everything his careful, high-society training was meant to prevent. His mouth dropped open. His eyes widened with sheer amazement, and a dark, ugly flush of sheer rage stained his neck. He started to open his mouth, to shout at me, but I didn't wait for a reply. I didn't give him one single second to regain his precious pride. I turned the brass handle and opened the heavy door and walked inside and shut it right in his face with a clean, satisfying finality. The heavy lock clicked loudly, like a gunshot, cutting off the heavy thumping bass of the club outside.

The private room was so quiet it was crazy. The flashing neon lights of the dance floor didn't penetrate in here.

Ethan sat alone on a black leather couch. He held a crystal glass of amber liquor in his large hand. He looked like a dark god in the shadows, perfectly dressed and impossibly wide. When he looked up at me, something dangerous, hot and highly predatory flickered in his dark eyes, and then his face settled right back into a terrifying stillness.

I did not hesitate. I couldn't afford weakness now. I walked directly across the plush carpet and stood right in front of his massive frame. I didn’t sugarcoat. I didn't play coy or innocent.

"Mr. Blackwell," I said, my voice perfectly steady, though my heart was hammering violently against my ribs. "You aren't married now?"

The silence following my question was a heavy, physical weight. It was heavy enough to take the air right out of my lungs.

He didn’t blink. He didn't crack a smile. He just sat there and watched me and said nothing. It was the kind of stare that tried to find the hidden seams in a person, ripping them apart mentally to see what they were truly made of.

My hand grabbed a handful of my short black dress. It was a pure nervous reaction to the heavy heat rolling off his powerful body, I didn’t even decide to do it. My stomach clenched tight, reacting automatically to his raw, dominant energy.

“Do you know what you are saying?” he asked finally. His voice was a low dark rumble that vibrated all the way down to my toes.

"I'm perfectly clear," I said, my chin up, my eyes on his. “I need one thing of you. One only. I'll get it and disappear cleanly. You won't ever have to put up with me again.”

He sipped his drink slowly, deliberately, his dark eyes lazily tracing down my bare legs. His broad shoulders relaxed back against the sofa cushions. “That deal does absolutely nothing for me.”

I opened my mouth, still trying to find the perfect, logical answer to convince him, when the heavy door suddenly crashed open. It struck the expensive wallpaper with a loud bang.

Derek filled the doorway. His eyes were utterly cold and full of raw, ugly rage. He strode into the room, took my wrist hard enough to bruise darkly, and pulled me back.

"You dirty little slut," Derek snarled, his fingers digging into my skin. He began to drag me towards the exit like an unruly dog. I wouldn't be surprised if you'd set your gold-digging sights on my father, but my youngest uncle? Have you lost your mind? You must be after a cruel lesson, Vivian, and here I am to give it to you."

He dragged me across the carpet and my shoulder hurt. "Let me go, Derek!" I yelled, struggling against his firm hold.

We came to the door. Derek pulled hard, leaning his whole body weight into it, but I didn't budge an inch. He couldn't pull me any farther.

I looked over my shoulder. Ethan had the other hand.

His giant, warm fingers were wrapped securely around my opposite wrist, pinning me completely. Derek slowly turned around. What he saw in the face of his handsome, cruel uncle was enough to suck all the angry air out of the room at once. I watched Derek's chest deflate. In a split second, the loud, arrogant man became quiet and small.

Ethan looked at his nephew. He didn't shout. He uttered only two words. "Let go."

He said it unemotionally. No warning. It was simply flat, absolute certainty. It was a king's order to a peasant. "Uncle Ethan, please," Derek stammered, his grip on my arm suddenly shaking. He was sweating, his eyes darting left and right. “Look at our blood. Think about the history of our family. She’s only doing this to play with me.”

"I hear your new father-in-law's family is looking for some heavy funding at the moment," Ethan interrupted Derek with one calm sentence. He didn't even bat an eyelid. “It would be a terrible shame if all that funding was suddenly cut off.”

Derek's hand fell away from my wrist like my skin had suddenly caught fire. He backed away pale and shaking, leaving me frozen there under Ethan's heavy, possessive gaze.

They drove to his place in total silence. I sat in the passenger seat of his sleek black car, massaging my sore wrist. The leather seats were cool against my bare thighs, but my body was practically humming with a deep, wet heat. The car smelled of dark smoke and cedar. Each time Ethan changed gears his arm would brush my leg, a jolt of pure electricity going straight to my core.

When we finally entered his penthouse apartment the space was exactly what his beautiful, cruel face promised. It was naked and tidy and frightfully precise. No messy details. No soft edges. Just cold perfection, sharp lines and costly shadows.

He didn’t speak one word. He just walked down the long, dimly lit hallway toward the master bedroom. I knew exactly what was going to happen. My core tightened, a hot, desperate ache pulsed through me. I wanted him to push me up against the wall again. I wanted him to wreck me again. But first I had to get my ironclad guarantee. "Hold on," I said, stopping him before he got to the bedroom door.

He stopped. He turned. I took a deep breath, stepping closer into his personal space and laid it all out.

"Marry me," I said quickly, my eyes running over his perfectly chiseled face. ‘Let me get what’s legally mine from my family. As soon as the money clears my account, I will sign the divorce papers the same week. You get your complete freedom back immediately."

He didn't appear surprised. He simply reached up, his long, elegant fingers pulling slowly at his expensive silk tie. He tugged it free, slow and impossibly sexy. "And what, exactly, do I get out of this arrangement?" he asked, his voice dropping a full octave.

I moved closer, until my breasts nearly pressed against his solid chest. I looked at the hard lines of his body, the dark, consuming hunger flashing in his eyes. "Me," I whispered softly. "You know me."

His hands went to the buttons of his shirt. He walked slowly, calmly terrified. He slid the first button through the hole, revealing the thick, tanned column of his throat, and his dark eyes locked with mine. The air was so thick with raw sexual tension I could barely breathe. My skin was almost screaming for his rough touch.

I took a step, hands rising in anticipation. "I'll give you a hand with that."

Before my fingers could even touch the warm silk of his shirt he moved. He took hold of me by the waist, his large hands squeezing my hips so tight that a shockwave of pleasure spread through my lower stomach. He spun us around in one smooth, powerful motion and flipped me backwards. I hit the center of the huge king-sized bed hard.

I gasped, my short dress riding dangerously high up my thighs, showing completely bare skin. Suddenly the big room had no distance left and no room to negotiate. He followed me down instantly, trapping me with his big, muscled body. His massive weight caused the expensive mattress to sag deeply.

He bent down, his lips brushing roughly against my sensitive ear. His hot breath sent a violent shiver down my spine, causing me to arch my back toward him. His voice emerged utterly dispassionate, as commanding and demanding as ever. "Is it really that easy to get me to marry you?

Now the wet heat between my legs was insufferable. I looked up at his handsome, cruel face, and felt my heart beat wildly against his solid chest. I reached up, sliding my hands deep into his dark hair.

I yanked him down by the neck, and stopped asking permission.