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I sighed. "You being able to get me off isn't our problem and never has been. I'm starting to get the impression that things are going to continue just like this. You want me to tell you I forgive you and that it's okay, but it's not. You also want me to stay with you because you think it's going to make me safer, but it's not. You are the danger for me, Atticus. Not some unforeseen boogeyman. You."
"I would never hurt you."
"Not physically, but emotionally…” I swallowed hard. “You keep telling me to forgive you. You keep telling me how it’s going to be. Not once have you asked. Asked for my forgiveness. Asked for my love. Asked for me to trust you blindly once again. You keep pushing me like it’s a foregone conclusion.
His eyes flared wide. “I—” I could see there was a part of him that wanted to argue, to push, cajole. But instead, he nodded. "You’re right. I—I’m sorry. I won't touch you again until you ask."
"I need you to understand that I might never ask, Atticus,” I said. “Never. And I’m still not going anywhere with you."
The narrowing of his eyes told me that he finally understood. He couldn't just bully me into doing exactly what he wanted.But it wouldn’t keep him from trying another tactic.
"I knew you would say that. But I should probably mention that I called Morgan and I’m sending her a plane to meet us in the Winston Isles. I sent a plane for her before we were supposed to meet."
My sister? I sighed. "Low blow, Atticus."
He shrugged. "I will try to understand your feelings, and I have a lot of work to do to earn your trust back. But you should realize by now that I will stoop to any level and move every mountain. You might not want to be with me, but I'm going to prove that you belong by my side. And being married to me is the safest place for you, whether you really want to be there or not. So what’s it going to be? Are we going to keep Morgan waiting, or will you go home and get ready for the Winston Isles?"
I scowled at him. "Using my sister against me is blackmail."
"It’s leverage. But I also spoke to the king again, and in addition to discussing your software’s uses for their hospital, he’d also like to discuss how it could help them improve their security in the Winston Isles."
I stared at him in stunned silence for a few seconds. "Do they have a security problem?"
He shook his head. "They have in the past, but that’s not the point. It's more about using Sword-in-the-Stone to deter violent crimes against women. It's one of the queen's causes."
"Ah, I see what you're doing there."
"I thought so,” he said. “You're smarter than I am, so of course, you see it. So are we staying here, or are you coming to the Winston Isles?"
"You had me at the queen’s causes."
“Excellent. We’ll leave in the morning. But tonight I have another potential client I want you to meet. East Hale. He’s in charge of security for the London Lords Hotel Conglomerate.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “Are you serious? It’s not ready. You’re putting a lot of faith in what I can deliver especially as it’s not working yet.”
Gently, he placed his hands on my shoulders. “Tonight is just a conversation. He’ll understand the software. Very broad strokes. I would like you to come with me. You’re the brains behind the software. But if you prefer not to, I won’t make you.”
I considered telling him no, but I wanted to be included in the negotiations, to be given some control. I wasn’t going to bite off my nose to spite my face. “What does one wear to dinner with a billionaire?”
“For me, nothing, but for him, as many clothes as I can pile on you.”
“You look nervous, Atticus. Is he prettier than you are?”
With full confidence he gave me a wicked smile and said, “Maybe,, but you like that thing I do with my tongue, so I’m not worried.”
Chapter 17
GWEN
Later that night when Atticus came to pick me up, I shored up my nerves. I'd gone with an emerald green slip dress with a deep V and slim, dangling earrings, and I’d piled my braids on top of my head with several pins and gone light on the makeup, with Louboutins rounding out the outfit.
When I stepped into the living area that was open and pristine with its white and cream colors for the couch and the carpet, I found him at the open accordion doors, looking at the ocean. When he turned, he gasped. "Jesus fucking Christ." His gaze drank me in, slowly scanning me head to toe, stopping at my breasts. He licked his lips and continued his perusal. When he dragged his gaze back up, he paused at my breasts again. "You should probably wear a shawl."
"Why? Because you don't want anyone looking at my tits the way you are?" His gaze hadn’t strayed from the cleavage on display.
When he spoke, his voice was barely above a growl. "Yes, and there is a chill in the air. Your nipples are already calling my name. I'm trying to be well behaved, Gwen. It would help if your nipples didn't point at me."
I rolled my eyes, reaching into my purse and pulling out a shawl. “Happy?”
