Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Brooklyn

"That's impossible!" I gasp, staring up at him. "You can't force

me to marry someone against my will!"

He laughs at me, holding me closer to him, still looking dow into my face. "Anything I want you to do is possible, sweetie?

I press my hands against his chest, trying to push away. "Nobody has arranged marriages anymore. This isn't the eighteenth century!"

He laughs again and lets me go. I skitter away from him, stumbling a bit.

"You're in my world now, Brooklyn," he says, calmly puffing his hands in his pockets. "The world you were born fo. Do you think laws really matter in the underworld, the world outside of the stupid bureaucracy you've deluded yourself into thinking keeps you safe?"

My jaw drops open at this arrogance. "I have rights!"

"You have nothing," he barks, taking a step forward towards me. "The only thing that matters is power. Which is money.

Which is might. You have none of this. The only thing that gives you anything in this world, Brooklyn, any protection, is your bloodline.'

His gaze flicks to the piece of paper that lays crumpled on the

"Which you are so eager

a few steps back, trying

"There are...laws..."

ears,

his head back and

ou sweet, innocent thing," he purrs, slowing striding

Two more steps, and he's looming over me,

try to catch my breath, try to process

distills

hand around my throat, running his

along my spine, and

you," he growls out, "and there's nothing that any law or any police officer can do to stop me. I walked in

my throat tightening ever so slightly, "-I'd be a little more grateful that I got you out of the club and restored you to the life of privilege to which you were

now, realizing that my life as

now, in this world-as the daughter of a don, engaged-oh my

no way I'm getting

by dropping his hand from my throat and pulling a handkerchief from his breast pocket. He offers it to me.

I've notified your father. He's away on business, but he'll be back

reputation. as Aden Kenwood. God, what

must be worried about me. How long have I

cry harder, putting my face

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