I'm Not Your Whore!
ing and unwelcoming. They swung open without a sound, revea
ulpted in contempt. His storm-gray eyes were devoid of warmth as th
voice was cold, detached, and f
ng to shrink beneath his gaz
let her in. "Of course, you didn't. That's what happ
ut she forced herself to remain composed. She
ence of luxury-marble floors, gilded chandeliers, and an atmosphere so
e, making her spine stiffen. "You are here to fulfill your end of the deal, nothing more. D
et his gaze head-on. "And what
His fingers brushed against her jaw, forcing her to look up at him. T
at," he murmured. "You belong to m
lsion. "I'm not your whore," she
musement dancing in his
knew one thing for certain-this marriage wa