THE SCENE HAPPENED around me, with me, and yet I was always a step behind.

The picture on Bryce’s phone was of me. Was it a trick?

“Bryce, what are you saying?”

He seized my upper arm, the same place he’d grabbed it the other day, pulling me closer. “I’m asking you a fucking question.”

I fought his grip. “Let go of me. You’re hurting me.”

We moved about the room, all three of us in a dance choreographed by both rage and fear.

“As soon as I saw you in the den, I knew something was off. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but then it hit me. The dress you were wearing…” Releasing my arm he shoved me away and scanned me from head to toe. “That you’re still wearing… isn’t the same as in the feed from Magnolia Woods.” He paced a small circle. “I fucking warned you. When you first got here, I tried to tell you.” He stepped closer. “I wanted this to be different, but I won’t be made a fool of!”

Though every part of me wanted to back away from his approach, I didn’t. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t give him that power over me. Not for a day, a week, until our wedding, or forever.

I lifted my chin. “Just spit it out. What are you accusing me of, because I have many more accusations to throw at you?”

The next second happened in a flash. Since I’d entered Alton’s car, I’d been struck twice: once by him and once by Suzanna. Theirs were nothing like the power in Bryce’s slap. It wasn’t a slap, but a backhand, knuckles connecting with bone, flesh hitting flesh.

I staggered and screamed.

Not from the pain—I hadn’t felt it.

From the shock.

My one word—“NO!”—rang through Chelsea’s suite, the one syllable going on for what seemed like forever as my knees gave way and I fell to the floor beside my friend.

She was curled on her side, cradling her cheek with her chest heaving from the unexpected blow.

“What the hell did you just do?” I screamed up at him.

Who is this man?

Surely not my childhood friend. Not the man who’d begrudgingly left my virtue intact as a teenager. Not the man who was pretending to be my fiancé.

“Get up,” he bellowed. His demand fell like a wet blanket as I stared up toward him, Chelsea’s head now in my lap.

He didn’t stop. “I said get the fuck up.”

Gently I eased her head off my lap and back to the carpet. Slowly I stood up, ready to face the monster who’d been hiding, the wolf in sheep’s clothing. As I rose, I knew without a doubt that Bryce Spencer was capable of hurting Melissa Summers. It was the accusations of his other crimes that I still didn’t understand.

“Not you,” he spat. “You.”

I gasped as the toe of his shoe reared back and kicked Chelsea’s leg.

I moved between them and put my hands out, trying to block him. My effort was similar to that of the buoys that floated out from the shore, capable of holding their own space, yet unable to slow the power of the waves.

“Bryce, stop it.”

He ran his hand through his hair as Chelsea scooted back, away from him yet still on the floor.

“Get up!”

When I saw her begin to rise, I moved again. “No, Chelsea. Don’t do it. Bryce, get the fuck out of here.”

Glaring my direction, he bulldozed past, reached for her arm, and yanked her to her feet. “This is your fault, Alexandria. She can thank you later for what’s about to happen.”

“Nothing is about to happen,” I retorted. “There’s a room full of men downstairs. Go. Leave us alone. We have to get ready for dinner.” It was a lame excuse, but my mind was a blur, scrambling for any shred of sanity.

His voice found an even-keeled, almost eerie calm. With his gaze now fixed on Chelsea, he said, “Leave the room, Alexandria.”

What?

“No.”

“Now!” No longer crimson as he turned to me, his face was red, bright red, a glowing contrast to his blond hair and light gray eyes. There was something different about them too, something I couldn’t place yet felt hauntingly familiar.

I opened Chelsea’s door and turned once more back to Bryce. He’d released Chelsea’s arm as he turned to be sure I’d left. Instead, I pulled the door open wider and stepped toward him. As my chest met his, I thrust my key toward Chelsea and said, “Go now. Lock my door.”

It happened so fast. She didn’t hesitate as she took off running, her bare feet gripping the soft carpet as she sprinted away.

Bryce took a deep breath and moved toward me, each step enlisting my retreat, pushing me back and back until the wall stopped my progress. Caging me against the wall with one arm on either side of my face, he leaned closer. “You’ll regret that. Not as much as her, but you will.”

“What the hell is your problem? Is it Patrick?” Because he’s ready to kick your ass.

I didn’t say that last part.

“Right now, my problem is you.”

“Fine, then don’t marry me.”

He seized my chin, his fingers painfully squeezing my face. “Shut the fuck up. Learn to keep your mouth closed and, I’ll add, your legs together—to anyone but me. If you can manage to follow those simple instructions, things will improve for you and my whore.”

His callous words bit more than his grip.

“Don’t talk about her like that.”

“You’re right. I shouldn’t differentiate, not when there were two whores in here.”

Was her room bugged? Had he heard that I’d signed with Infidelity?

Shit! How stupid could I have been?

“Bryce… what’s going on?”

“You weren’t at Magnolia Woods today. I called. You weren’t there, only Patrick. That means one thing. It means you were with him.” He let go of my chin and caressed my cheek. The change from brutality to gentleness added to my queasiness. “Darling, if you can fuck, then I can too.” His smile broadened. “I might even let you watch.”

“I didn’t—”

“Don’t fucking lie to me. I warned you. I told you that you’d go along with everything, because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be able to live with the repercussions.” His tone softened, his timbre a mocking sweetness. “I can’t do to you what I want, not right now.”

The calculating coldness in his eyes sent a cold chill tingling down my spine.

“Because,” he went on, explaining his psychotic reasoning, “in less than an hour you’re going to be downstairs in a fucking different dress, wearing your ring, and playing the perfect fiancée. We have a party tomorrow. It’s a shame Chelsea won’t make it.”

I had trouble keeping up. “But Suzanna and Alton want her there. A united front.”

“But you don’t. She’s a whore. Everyone knows that and when asked, that will be your answer.”

I shook my head. “No. I won’t do that to her. I won’t—”

His hand covered my lips. “You will or I’ll tell Alton about today. I’ll let him know that instead of visiting Adelaide, you were screwing a criminal. And then your visiting privileges with your mother will be revoked.” He moved his head slowly from side to side as a grin came to his lips. “As I said, you will cooperate. Won’t you, darling? Best friend or worst enemy. I suggest you work on reminding me why you want it to be friend.”

“Leave Chelsea alone. She hasn’t done anything. If you want to take this out on someone—not that I’m admitting to anything—then take it out on me.”

“If only I could, but bruises won’t go well with dinner tonight or the party tomorrow night. And, darling…” He allowed the endearment to hang in the air. “…I don’t do sloppy seconds.

“Go now, it’s nearly time for dinner.” He reached for a bit of my hair. “Fix your hair and makeup. Make yourself beautiful.” He ran his knuckles over my cheek as his tenor flowed like silk. “Because you can be stunning, Alexandria. I’ve seen it. I’ve watched you. From now on, you’ll wear that gorgeous smile for me, won’t you?”

I stared, terrified of his next mood swing.

He brushed his finger over my lips. “When I ask you a question, I expect an answer.”

I nodded. It wasn’t so much a concession as it was manipulation. By giving him the answer he wanted, I controlled his response.

Bryce smiled. “Now, here’s a question for you. Tell me you don’t want to be late for dinner; you don’t want to be late again today, do you?”

I hadn’t had a chance to respond when unexpectedly his fist collided with the wall, merely inches from my face. The plaster was no match for his punch as fine dust fluttered around us.

I gasped, shuddering as his growing erection pressed against my stomach.

“I asked you a question.” The red crept back up to his ears. “Fucking answer it…” Before it could register, he reached down the neckline of my dress and under my bra, painfully pinching and twisting my nipple.

I screamed as I tried unsuccessfully to move away.

Bryce grinned. “…or, darling, I’ll find places your dress will hide, places to leave my mark. Now answer.”

“No,” I replied quickly, gathering what was left of my self-control and pushing his hand away. “I don’t want to be late.”

He leaned closer, his nose touching my neck as he inhaled. “And shower. Exchanging you for her was supposed to rid me of a whore, not make another one my future wife.”

Bryce took a step back, giving me the space to stand straighter.

Was he allowing me to leave? Would he follow me?

I stayed planted and softened my tone. “Please, Bryce. She’s my friend. Please, don’t do anything.”

He let out a breath. “I know you may not understand, but I’ve paid a lot of money to do whatever I want.” One side of his lips quirked upward. “As I said, she’s a whore but for you… for now… I’ll go back downstairs and make nice with your father.” He tilted his head toward the fist print—the indentation in the wall. “Don’t make any assumptions. Locks won’t keep me out.”