“Magnus would never hurt you. He would have resorted to that already if that were his intention. It’s not. He’s always had your back—even now. He’s just ready to move on from your past quicker than you are. It’s not personal.”

Fender didn’t look at me. His eyes remained focused, replaying conversations that I never witnessed. “Did you get your dress?”

The change in subject threw me off for a moment. “My wedding dress?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah…it was dropped off yesterday.” It had been custom made by Valentino, and the designer had come to take my measurements and create the dress for me. When it was delivered, I’d nearly cried. Never in my life had I thought I’d wear a dress like that.

He turned his head and looked at me. “Marry me tomorrow.” His dark eyes bored into mine, like my only answer could be yes. The conversation about his brother was already old news.

“Yes—if Magnus and Raven are there.”

Disappointment flashed in his gaze. “It’s about us. Not them—”

“I’m not getting married without my sister there. And I’m not letting you get married without your brother.”

He inhaled an agitated breath. “That’s not going to happen, chérie—”

“Then you’re not going to marry me.”

His eyes shifted back and forth as he looked into mine, hostile.

“Marriage is about doing the right thing for the other person—always. You’d regret not having your brother there. So, we’ll wait until you’re ready.”

It was tense between us.

Fender was a man of few words, but those words were even rarer now.

He was angry with me, but there was no amount of anger that would drive us apart. He remained by my side day and night. He made love to me like he meant it. But there was noticeable distance between us throughout the day.

I stood by my decision—and I wouldn’t change it.

We sat together at the dining table in our bedroom, eating in silence. He didn’t reach for the scotch, though he clearly wanted to, respecting my wishes even when our relationship was strained.

There was nothing he wanted more than to me marry me.

Denying him was the best way to infuriate him.

A commotion sounded downstairs. Distant voices. Then Magnus’s loud voice reached us all the way upstairs because he screamed in duress. “Fender! Get your ass down here now!”

Fender moved so fast I barely processed what happened. He was out of his chair and at the door to the bedroom. He shouted back, just as heated, “Fuck off!” I’d never heard him yell with so much rage, project his voice so loudly.