Elena stared at him. The words hung in the air between them ‘Elena Blackwood’ like a door she hadn't asked to be opened.
"Your wife," she said slowly.
"Yes."
She laughed, sharp and short. "You want me to marry you. After ten years of watching me from the shadows. After refusing to tell me the truth about my own mother." She shook her head, stepping back until her hip bumped the desk. "This isn't protection, Damon. This is you using me. This is about your revenge against the Coles, or the Harts, or whoever else you're fighting, and you want a pawn with the right last name."
Damon didn't flinch. "It's about survival."
"Don't." She held up a hand, palm out, as if she could push the words away. "Don't stand there and pretend this is some noble sacrifice. You don't love me, you don't even
