Marshall raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by my questions. He slowly walked back to where I sat, pulling the chair closer to mine and sitting down with an air of authority that made my skin crawl. The dim light cast shadows across his face, accentuating the sharpness of his features and the cold calculation in his eyes.
“That would depend on you,” he said carefully, as if weighing his words. “You’d be my wife, Grace. That comes with certain expectations, responsibilities. But I’m not unreasonable. I’m willing to offer you more than just a life in my shadow.”
I swallowed hard, my throat dry as sandpaper, but I forced myself to ask the next question. “Would I be able to have a job? Run my own business? Or would I just be arm candy, paraded around at your whim?”
Marshall’s eyes narrowe
