“No? How do you know?”

“Because I know your type.”

“And what’s that? Big giant bully who likes to humiliate me again and again and fucking again?”

“I keep you away for your own good.”

“You just keep telling yourself you’re doing this all for me. You just wasted my chance.”

“What chance? You’d really marry that man? That boy? He’s at the bottom of his class. His family isn’t exactly swimming in money. What do you think he wants out of a marriage with you?”

“Unlike you, I don’t fool myself, Judge. I know I won’t marry for love—”

“Love?”

“Yes. Love. And I’m sure that sounds pathetic to someone like you. And really, how can I blame you? I have a history. Does Mercedes De La Rosa even have the capacity to love? I’m a fucking ice queen without feelings. Isn’t that what they all say? I had a chance tonight!”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“And don’t forget you’re the one who invited him.”

“After I saw your text—”

“You what?” She stops, her eyes narrowing to slits, fists clenched so tight her whole body is shaking. “You fucking asshole!” She flies at me, hands like claws.

I catch her when she hurls her weight into me.

“This is what I mean! You run too hot. The fire inside you would be wasted on a man like that,” I tell her as she draws one arm back to slap me. I take the sting of it as she rages, all nails and fists and fury. I spin her, throw her onto the bed and grip her wrists at her lower back. She wriggles to get free. “You think you’d be happy with someone like Clifton fucking Phillips?” Switching her wrists into one hand, I take hold of the top of her dress with the other and rip it straight down the middle. “You think you could ever be satisfied with someone like that? You think he’s your match in any way?” I tear away the string that barely qualifies as panties.

“What’s the matter, Judge?” She twists her neck to look back at me. “You don’t want someone touching what’s yours? Temporarily, I might add. Can’t stomach the idea of me getting off on someone else’s dick? Get the fuck off me!”

I look around, half mad with rage and jealousy and God knows what, and see her lotion on the nightstand. I reach for it, keeping hold of her wrists as I do, and flip the top open.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she asks when I squeeze a healthy amount onto her lower back.