I glare at him defiantly, doing my best to ignore the threat of his rock-hard erection pressing against my entrance. Only his jeans and my flimsy underwear separate us now, and I know Julian can get rid of these barriers in a heartbeat. The only obstacle to him fucking me right now—and the one I’m counting on—is the fact that we’re in full view of all the guards and whoever else happens to be strolling by the house at this particular moment. Exhibitionism is not Julian’s thing—he’s too possessive for that—and I feel reasonably certain he won’t take me out in the open like this.

He may do other things to me, but I’m safe from sexual punishment for now.

That fact and my anger spur my reckless reply. “Actually, the real question is what are you going to do, Julian?” I say, my voice low and bitter. “Are you going to drag me kicking and screaming to get these trackers put in? Because that’s what you’ll have to do, you know—I’m not going to go along with this like some good little captive. I’m done playing that role.”

His smile disappears, replaced by a look of ruthless determination. “I’m going to do whatever it takes to keep you safe, Nora,” he says harshly and rises to his feet, hauling me up with him.

I struggle, but it’s pointless; within a second, he has me lifted up in his arms, one of his hands restraining my wrists and the other arm tightly hooked under my knees, essentially immobilizing my legs. Incensed, I arch my spine, trying to break his grip, but he’s holding me too securely for that. All I succeed in doing is tiring myself out, and after a couple of minutes, I stop, panting in frustrated exhaustion as Julian begins walking back toward the house, carrying me like a helpless child.

“You can scream if you want,” he informs me as we approach the porch steps. His voice is calm and detached, and his face is empty of all emotion as he glances down at me. “It won’t change anything, but you’re welcome to try.”

I know he’s probably using reverse psychology on me, but I remain silent as he pushes open the front door with his back and enters the house. My earlier anger is fading, a kind of weary resignation taking its place. I’ve always known that fighting Julian is pointless, and what happened today only confirms that fact. I can resist all I want, but it will avail me nothing.

As Julian carries me into the foyer, I see Ana still standing there, staring at us in shock and fascination. She must’ve stayed to watch the conclusion of the chase through the window, and I can feel her gaze following us as Julian walks past her without a word.

Now that the immediate rush of adrenaline has passed, I am aware of a deep flush of embarrassment. It’s one thing for Ana to notice a few faint bruises on my thighs, but it’s another thing entirely for her to see us like this. I’m sure she’s seen worse—after all, she works for a crime lord—but I still can’t help feeling uncomfortably exposed. I don’t want people on the estate to know the truth about my relationship with Julian; I don’t want them to look at me with pity in their eyes. I had plenty of that back home in Oak Lawn, and I’m not eager to repeat the experience.