I shouldn’t have revealed that. He didn’t deserve the intimacy of my true name.

He blew out a sigh, clearly frustrated by my prickly demeanor. “I thought we were past this antagonism. Things don’t have to be difficult between us.”

“As long as I honor and obey you?” I asked, repeating my forced vows with venom.

“Yes,” he replied simply. “You will obey me, Nora.”

It was so much worse when he used my name. My gnashing teeth cut the inside of my cheek, and I tasted copper on my tongue.

He sighed again. “I have things to do, and so do you. The wedding planner and decorator will be here in less than an hour. You will help them set up.”

I blinked at him. “We’re already married.” I couldn’t keep the trace of bitterness from my voice.

He tipped his chin back, making his strong jaw appear even more forbidding. “We’re hosting a reception tonight. Try to look less miserable about the arrangement, darling.”

Anger heated my chest at the mocking endearment. “And what will you be doing to help, dear?” I shot back.

His lips quirked at the corners for a fraction of a heartbeat, as though I’d amused him. “I’m going to invite the most important members of our organization personally. Including your father.” His expression darkened. “His scheme with Dante is over. You’re mine now.”

I stiffened at the possessiveness in his tone. “I’m not an object to be traded,” I insisted. “I’m not your property.”

His eyes flashed. “And what alternative would you prefer? Dante Torrio? This marriage has saved you from him. I’ll keep you and protect you, Nora, whether you like it or not.”

“I’m not a possession to be kept. I might be your wife, but I don’t belong to you.”

He prowled toward me, and I shrank back against the headboard. The cold metal drew a shiver to the surface of my skin, contrasting with the heat of my anger. Despite my fear of my husband’s raw strength, I lifted my chin and allowed my glower to clash with his.

He loomed over me, leaning in close as his arms bracketed my waist, his hands pressing into the pillows on either side of my hips. He caged me in, close enough that the heat of his own anger rolled off his body to tease over my pebbled skin. He didn’t stop until his lips were an inch from mine, his blazing eyes filling my world.

“You are mine, Nora. And after tonight, everyone will know it. No one will take you from me. Not your father. And not Dante. You do belong to me, kitten. Not him.”

As he spoke his intense declarations, his features tightened into something fierce and terrifyingly possessive. In that moment, I realized that he hated my father and Dante, and taking me was more than a power play for him; it was a vicious triumph. I truly was a trophy to him, conquered and owned.