She studied his face. He meant every word, and there was a warning, as sweet as he was trying to say it, as subtle as he was making it. Elijah wasn’t the kind of man to be crossed, not even by her, not when he laid down the law. When she’d accepted him, made the decision to be his, she’d gone into it with her eyes open about him. She saw him. She saw the dominant in him. If she was his woman, the one for him, she had to accept that in him as well.

“Elijah,” she began carefully.

“I asked you if we were clear on this.”

His voice hardened and she winced. She put her hand on his chest, tipping her head up to his. “Honey, we’re clear,” she agreed, “but I’d like to say something.”

“Say it, then.”

He didn’t give an inch. She realized she’d been very, very lucky he’d taken her into his office to confront Alonzo. He really didn’t want her anywhere near his family’s business. Or her family’s.

“I don’t want you to have deal with any of that, Elijah. Clearly it’s distasteful to you. We’re thinking about being a family together . . .”

Both hands went to her skirt and he pulled it up to her thighs. Then his hands dropped to her waist and he yanked her toward him, so that she was right on the edge of the counter, his body wedged between her legs. Close. Close enough she felt the heat of his anger.

“Don’t piss me off, Siena. You’re already skating on thin ice. We aren’t thinking about being a family. We are a family. My baby’s in your belly and my fucking seed is so deep inside you you’re never going to get it out. What more do you need before you admit we’re together and we’re going to stay that way?”

The room got scary. Tense. The air thick with his anger. Fury had gathered like pinpoints in his eyes. Before she could formulate a suitable apology for not wording her protest correctly, he heaved a frustrated sigh. His fingers flexed at her waist. Dug in. He gave her a little shake.

“We’re fucking getting married. Immediately. I’m calling Jake now and asking him to find us someone and get the paperwork done. We do the paperwork, wait the seventy-two hours and then get it done. My ring’s on your finger maybe you’ll get it through your head you belong to me and . . .” He stuck his head close to hers, his eyes so silver they were pure liquid. “You. Aren’t. Going. Fucking. Anywhere.” He spat the last five words.