Though Catherine was wrapped in the warm duvet, she shivered. Sean stood at the edge of the bed, glaring down at her. The air around him seemed frozen, and she tried to scoot away.
"Don't you dare, Catherine Stewart," he hissed. "Don't you even try to escape from me?"
"I didn't," she whispered. "I don't want to."
His eyes became even colder, "Don't lie to me. You've made it clear you think my home is a prison. You've made it clear you'd rather run off with Marco Jacobs than spend a life with me."
"What?" she asked. "No, I don't. I don't want to run away with Marco. I hate him."
Sean scoffed, "You hate him? You just planned to run away with him. What kind of woman runs away with a man she hates on her wedding day?"
Catherine closed her eyes, trying to think of a way to explain herself. The bed creaked, and something cold and powerful, pinched her jaw and turned her head to the left.
