Chapter 4

Quentin

"What the… WHAT?" She throws back her head and laughs. Then straightens, all mirth wiped from her face. "You have some gall, saying that to my face."

I allow my lips to twitch. "As I recall, you didn't seem averse to the idea of marrying me when I proposed to you."

She scoffs, "And if you recall, I said I couldn't say yes to you because I didn't know you."

"And you should know, your father is not opposed to this marriage." I place the bottle of tequila on the other side of the counter and away from her.

"Excuse me?" Her eyes flash. "You have some nerve bringing my father into this conversation."

"I'm old-fashioned that way."

"Don"t you mean old?" Her words are laced with sarcasm.

Dammit, she"s right.I continue as if I didn't hear that. "I wanted to get his blessings on our union."

"Excuse me?" She gapes.

"I would have chased right after you, but your father deserved to know my intentions were honorable. He gave his blessing, you know?"

She snaps her mouth shut. Stubbornness settles across her features. "It doesn't make a difference. I'm not marrying you." She folds her arms across her chest.

You will.She has no idea how persistent I can be. She's mine. I won't give up until I possess her. "I promised him I'd take care of you, and that you'd want for nothing. I also told him I knew it was unorthodox, the way I went about proposing. Not to mention, you"re my son's ex. But I knew we were meant for each other as soon as I saw you."

She stares at me, surprise in her eyes.

"The awkwardness of the situation is not lost on me," I say gently.

"And what did my father say?"

"That he was pissed-off with my son and he needed proof that I wouldn't do the same to you. I told him I'd have married you right then, if I could"ve, but since that wasn't happening, I gave him my word?—"

"Y-your word?" she sputters.

I nod. "A gentleman's word is everything, and I promised him we'd be married as soon as you agreed to my proposal."

"You promised—?" Color smears her cheeks. "You promised?" Her voice rises toward the end of the statement.

"I did the right thing, didn't I?" I say it, knowing full well it's going to anger her, and she doesn't disappoint me.

"You dared talk about me when I was not in the room? Like I am some... Some... Bit of chattel?" she spits out.

"It was a man-to-man conversation." That, too, is aimed at riling her up, and once more, she rises to the challenge.

"About me!" She curls her fingers into fists. "How dare the two of you decide my fate when I wasn't in the room? What do you think this is? Regency England? I didn"t realize you were that old."

I suppress a smirk. "It was simply my way of putting your father's fears to rest. I realized he wasn't well, and he felt helpless that his daughter's wedding had fallen apart. He knew you were hurt, and he couldn't do anything about it. This was my way of handing some of the control back to him."

"Oh." She deflates a little. "You're right; he was upset about what happened. What father wouldn't be? The last thing I would"ve wanted was for him to witness my humiliation, but"—she points a finger at me—"how dare the two of you discuss things that could impact me, and in my absence?"

"It's totally up to you to decide, of course."

"Why, thank you for letting me have a say in my own future," she snarls.

I tilt my head, pretending not to hear the scorn dripping from her tone. "You're welcome."

She thrusts out her chin, frustration inherent in the way she holds herself stiffly. "You're a chauvinistic pig."

"I've been called worse," I agree.

She stares at me, frustration etched into the lines on her face. "I think you should leave."

"Only if you leave with me."

"You wish." Once more, she reaches for the bottle of tequila, but I use my body to prevent her from getting closer to it. Going by her flushed cheeks and feverish gaze, she's had enough to drink. Any more and she'll be sick.

Has she even eaten anything today? It hasn't been an easy day for her. The stress of the wedding, then Felix standing her up, followed by my surprise proposal. That's a lot! Her emotions are, no doubt, all over the place, and the alcohol is not going to help.

She overstretches, the stool tips over, and she begins to slide. I grab at her shoulder and steady her. She rights herself and shakes off my hand. "Don't touch me."

"Is that any way to talk to your future husband?"

She makes a gnashing sound with her teeth and looks like she's about to throw herself at me, not that I wouldn't welcome that. And when she purses her luscious lips, they form a moue, and all I can think of is having them wrapped around my cock. I shake my head. Nope, don't go there. This is not about sex… Well, not only.

I admit, from the moment I saw her, I couldn't take my eyes off of her. Not even the fact she was going to marry my son stopped me from wanting her. And when I realized Felix had stood her up, I seized the opportunity. At my age, you don't wait for the right moment. You know that these feelings come around but once in a lifetime; so when you feel this strongly about a woman, you don't hesitate. You claim her, and keep her, and worship her, and take care of her, so she never wants for anything. It also means, you protect her with everything you have.

I glance around the room, making sure to look every asshole who's looking at her in the eye. They promptly look away. Losers. None of them deserve to set their gaze on a goddess like her.

"Did you just growl?" Her eyes widen.

I don't reply.

"You growled." She draws in a breath, and her spectacular bosom rises and falls. She juts out her chin, and her defiance is so fucking cute. So endearing. So… Adorable. A-n-d, I need to get her out of here before I say or do something that could spoil the chances of her accepting the proposal I have for her.

She folds her arms across her chest. "If you think you can stake your claim by acting all possessive?—"

"That was not acting possessive." I unfold my length and straighten, so she has to tilt her head back to look at me. "This is." I bend and scoop her up in my arms.

"What the—!?" She begins to struggle in my grasp. "What are you doing?"

"Getting you out of here to somewhere we can talk."

"Put me down." She slaps my chest. "You can't be this… This…"

"Overbearing?"

"Arrogant," she hisses.

"Don't you mean dominating?"

"Egoistical." She begins to struggle in my arms.

"I am all that, and more."

"You're drawing attention to us," she snaps.

"No, you are. Hush now. Stop struggling, and everyone will assume we're married and I'm carrying you off to our honeymoon."

She stills, and when I glance down, I find her features pinched. There's a look of anger and helplessness in her green eyes. She must be remembering what happened at the church earlier. She lowers her chin, her lips are curved down, and goddam, but I don't want her to look this unhappy, this defeated. I want her to fight back at what happened.

I want her to fight me. I want her to show her mettle. I want her to stand up for herself. If I push her, she'll react. That way, I'll know what she wants. That way, I can give her what she needs. But she's got to have fire in her to make it worthwhile for me, and to make it satisfying for her... Because she could be the perfect submissive.

Is this why I'm so drawn to her? Did I sense the hidden need in her to submit to the right master? Did the dominant in me take one look and know she was it? Is that why I proposed to her as soon as I saw the opportunity?

As if she senses my thoughts, she tightens her hold about my shoulders. Instinctively, I cradle her closer. Her weight feels perfect against my chest. I could hold her like this forever.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," I say in a low voice.

When she doesn't reply, I blow out a breath. Felix may have been the one who stood her up, but I feel responsible for his behavior. I need to make it up to her. Need to put things right with her. "What happened at the church was unpardonable. He shouldn't have done that."

"And what about what you did?" She scowls at me.

I hesitate. "What if I tell you I don"t regret it?"

She frowns, and I sense she's digesting what I said.

I carry her out of the pub and to my car, then lower her to her feet. A gust of wind blows the tendrils which have come loose from her hair around her face. She sways, and I keep my arm about her.

"I'm not drrr...u-nk." She spoils the effect by slurring her words, then giggles. "Oops." She takes a deep breath and tries again. "Guess, I am drunk, and embarrassed."

"I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to embarrass you, but I want to speak with you in a place where we don't have an audience."

"And I don't want to speak with you." She sets her jaw.

"Give me a chance to outline what I have in mind," I plead.

"And if I don't care?"

"I think you'll want to listen to my offer before you decide."

"Offer?" She frowns.

In response, I pull open the car door. "Get in."