I locked the door after Adelaide admitted the constant proximity was eroding her resolve. Lamplight pooled across the open ledgers while dust drifted between us. My hand settled at the small of her back, and I waited for the obedience she still tries to deny.
The estate needs this marriage and her signature on the documents. What I crave is her surrender. I need her palms braced on the desk as she accepts the discipline her sharp tongue earns. Her questions falter only when I give a command.
How long can she keep pretending my orders mean nothing to her?
