he took her up on the indecent proposition. The idea squeezed my lungs, creating a ripple effect from uncertainty to dejection to anger. Ronan could be having a threesome every night for all I knew, and I couldn’t even kiss another man without him turning into a virgin’s worst nightmare. “Save your stamina for the next unlucky girl who catches your eye,” I said coldly. “Trust me, you’!l waste it on me.” His stare threatened me to hold in what was on the tip of my tongue, but, admittedly, I didn’t take orders well. “There are so many men in Miami. You’!l soon be forgotten along with all the rest.” The words didn’t get the time to settle in the air. A single kick from him to the side of the couch sent it sailing across the floor, where it hit the wall and left me grossly unprotected. Holding his dark eyes, the coolness of the marble beneath my feet spread through me, my blood whooshing in my ears. I took off for the doorway, but I didn’t make it that far. Ronan could have easily grabbed me by the hair and thrown me to the floor like the guard did, though he caught a fistful of my dress instead. I resented it more than if he had hurt me. I was suddenly desperate for pain; for agony to remind me of how little I meant to him before he stole my innocence and, in consequence, my soul too. As he started to pull me back, I grasped at the side table, knocking things over in search of a weapon—or at least a way to push him to a point he’d make me recall I was nothing but his pawn. Clammy fingers found purchase, and before I could think it through, I spun around and shattered the vase against the side of his head. Glass fell to the floor around us, the room going deathly still. In the movies, men went down. Ronan didn’t go down. My chest heaved, feet rooted to the floor as he closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. When he opened them, I expected his retaliation; I didn’t anticipate him to silently wrap an arm around my waist, lift me over the broken glass, and drop me onto the couch. When his body came down on mine, so did the guilt, blending with the heaviness of him on top of me. His legs forced my thighs apart, his hands holding my wrists above my head. Regret thickening in my throat, I breathed, “I won’t apologize.”