She whirled to face him again. “Do you really think you can hold onto me if I want to leave?” she asked, incredulous.
His eyes were as hard as steel. One would think she had done something wrong. “You can leave whenever you want, Dani. I won’t hold you against your will. That would be a monstrous thing to do.”
“And everyone knows you’re not a monster,” she said sarcastically.
He began to remove his gold cuff links. Slowly, he slipped each piece of jewelry between its buttonhole. She’d bought them for him, each one monogrammed with his initials, CJ. “You made me a promise, and I expect you to keep it.”
She couldn’t believe he’d brought up the conversation they’d had weeks ago. She laughed, the sound shrill and unnatural. “Don’t hold your breath.”
He didn’t react. If he’d given any indication this argument affected him nearly as much as it did her, perhaps they’d have stood a chance, but her husband rarely expressed emotion. Strict control in his life was paramount at all times, and he actually became even more detached during their arguments.
“Our marriage is over, Cyrus.” She didn’t move, temporarily paralyzed by the magnitude of her decision. Saying the words made it final. She would no longer wrestle with the decision in her head because she’d put it out there in the universe. She’d told him and fully intended to carry through with her decision, no matter how much it pained her. “One of these days someone will deceive you, too, and we’ll see how you like it.”
His silence was unbearable. Since he didn’t respond to her warning, she left him alone to enter the main area of their bedroom. He came up behind her, as stealthy as a big cat, and caught her by the arm. Pushing her back against the wall, he leaned close and barricaded her in with hands on either side of her body.
“Stay away from Roland DuBois,” he said, low and succinct. “If I ever find out he’s made contact with you again, I will destroy him.” He paused to let the words sink in.
Her heart tripped in her chest. Cyrus didn’t make idle threats.
His eyes lowered to the bodice of her dress, which dipped low and exposed her full cleavage. He’d bought it for her, a one-of-a-kind Alexander McQueen. The golden lamé sparkled against her light caramel complexion and fit her figure perfectly. She’d had to admit it was a good choice, and by the look in his eyes, she knew that as much as he liked to see her in it, now Cyrus wanted her out of it as quickly as possible.
She shrank back against the wall, seeking distance between them but finding none.
“Are we done?” she asked. Unable to tolerate being in the same room with him for another minute, she had every intention of spending the night in one of the spare bedrooms on the other side of the house, as far away from him as possible.
“No, we’re not done.” The words dripped slowly from his lips like warm, heavy syrup. “Time to go to bed.” His head dipped to hers and she immediately placed her hands against his broad shoulders to shove him away. Instead of letting her go, he scooped her up and carried her to their large bed.
Pinning her arms above her head, he kissed her the way he wanted to. Slowly, thoroughly. He loved to kiss, and he was extremely good at it. The seductive movements of his lips over hers battered her resistance.
“Don’t fight me,” he said against her cheek.
He ran one hand down the inside of her arm, over her breasts and down to her hip. She twisted and arched, the heat of his touch warming her skin through the material. Already he had her wanting more.
Cupping one breast, he kissed the line of her cleavage and pulled in frustration at the edge of the gown, seeking her nipple. In his impatience, he ripped the dress down the middle, a dress that had cost him thousands. Daniella gasped.