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

a few steps back,

"There are...laws..."

ears, my voice

his head back and

thing," he purrs, slowing striding

more steps, and he's looming

try to catch my breath, try to process

desire, panic...until everything distills down to just heat and

around my throat, running

runs along my spine, and I

out, "and there's nothing that any law or any police officer can do

it. So, if I were you-" he presses his body closer to mine, his grip on my throat tightening ever so slightly, "-I'd be a little more grateful that I

now, realizing that my life as I knew it

of a don, engaged-oh my god, engaged-to the son

way I'm

my throat and pulling a handkerchief from his breast pocket. He offers it

little one," he says. "But you'll have to learn fast. I've notified your father. He's away on business, but he'll be back in two days,

has almost as bad a reputation. as Aden Kenwood.

mind suddenly shifts to Dad, who must be worried about me. How long have I

to cry harder, putting my face in

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