I didn’t knock on the door, mostly because I knew it pissed her off so much and keeping her as off-kilter as she kept me was something I enjoyed.

“Did you need something else, Elias?” she asked after I walked in.

“I came to finish our conversation,” I said.

She blinked but then recovered quickly. “I didn’t realize we needed to talk about anything else,” she said.

She looked delectable in her T-shirt and gym shorts. She also looked like she’d rather be back with my father than have me in her personal space.

My temper flared, but I fought to keep it under control.

I knew what she was attempting to do and knew that I wouldn’t stand for it.

She was trying to put distance between us like she always did.

Tolerating me without conceding the point.

That wouldn’t work this time.

In fact, I had let it go on for far too long.

That would change today.

As I stared at her, I saw the stubborn set of her shoulders, could see that she was digging in her heels, preparing to resist me.

She might even agree with me with her words, but she’d still keep a part of herself separate.

Usually, her verbal agreement would have been enough.

Not now.

For as long as I could remember, my whole life, really, getting what I wanted had been my sole goal.

How a person felt about it didn’t matter as long as the result that I desired was the one that was achieved.

That was somewhat true in this case too.

But not completely.

Because I would get Kayla’s compliance.

But I didn’t want just that.

I wanted—demanded—her acceptance.

If nothing else, there was one area she couldn’t disagree with me on, and I would use it to my advantage.

She was facing me, but she wouldn’t look at me.

In fact, I could tell she was trying to pretend I wasn’t even there.

I chuckled softly, and though I knew she heard me, she didn’t give me any outward response.

So I didn’t address her either.

Instead, I lined up my shoes next to hers and then went to her cabinets.

“Where’s your booze?” I called to her.

“I don’t have any,” she responded.

“I’ll have to fix that,” I said.

“I don’t expect you’ll be here often enough for that,” she said.

A true statement, though not for the reasons she would think.

Soon enough it wouldn’t matter because she would be out of this place.

I left the kitchen area without a drink and instead walked around the rest of the place.

She had books but no pictures, which didn’t seem like her, and I wondered why.

But that was a question for later.

Instead of asking it, I walked back into the bedroom and started untying my tie.