Free Dance With Me by Hayden Braeburn

will go to Brown, and she will win Miss America.”
    Well. “And what will she do after that?”
    “ Broadcast journalism.”
    “ What will our boy do?”
    “ Oh, he'll be President,” she answered breezily.
    Was she making up a life for her children or her dolls? “Wow.” He tried to cover his jubilation at working an ankle almost free by asking another question. “If our kids are off running the free world, who will take care of our businesses?”
    She shrugged. “It won't matter. Your father already sold the bank. I can sell McClaren as soon as my father dies.”
    She seemed almost gleeful when she spoke of her father dying, and that rattled him. Here he was, trussed up a like a Christmas turkey, dressed in nothing more than underwear, and she was almost salivating over the hypothetical death of her father. His blood chilled. What if it wasn't hypothetical? What if she'd already murdered her father? “You won't inherit for a long time.”
    “ Next year.” She grinned. She would get everything she deserved, everything she wanted, everything she'd worked and planned for in the next year, starting with Mason. “He decided to retire and leave it to me.
    Bad move. “You'd just sell it?”
    “ Not at first.” She returned to his side to run her fingers through his hair. “I wish you'd just make love to me like you used to. I wish you didn't make me hurt you.” She laid her mouth over his then, biting his lower lip when he didn't respond. “You   will   love me again, Mason,” she demanded.
    Stall! Grasping the only tactic that came to mind, he said, “You don't have to hurt me,” as suggestively as he could. “Let me free, Priscilla.”
    She took a step back, measuring her captive. As much as she wanted his hands on her, she couldn't let him free. There wasn't anywhere for him to go if she released him, but she knew he would run. He might even try and kill her in the process. “No. I can't let you out, Mason. You might hurt me.”
     
    There was no might about it. “Why would I do that?”
     
    Her face changed, instantly going hard. “You chose some dirty little Russian dancer over me. You don't care about me.”
     
    Not even a little bit. “She's American,” he corrected instead, despite the fire in Priscilla's eyes.
     
    “ She needs your money and your name.”
    Again, he knew better but engaged in the conversation. “Why?”
    “ She was in danger of losing her itty-bitty studio, so you bought it for her,” she accused. “I don't need your money. I just need you.”
    He thought for a moment, tried to find a better topic. “Why drugs?” He mentally kicked himself. What the fuck was he thinking?
    She grinned at the question, pleased with herself. “It was a brilliant plan. Your kitten will go to prison for years and years for that, where she can't get to you.”
    “ I'll still love her.”
    That earned him a swift blow to the abdomen. “The hell you will!” she screamed. “You will love me and no one else!”
    “ What if I don't?” He winced as soon as the words rolled off his tongue. His mouth was going to get him murdered before he had a chance to escape.
    She ran a finger over the delineations of his abs through his shirt, stopping at the elastic band of his briefs. “You will love me. You just have to remember.”
    His muscles tensed under her hands, and his skin crawled. “That was so long ago, Priscilla,” he said between clenched teeth.
    She stomped her feet, her heels clattering against the wooden floor. “It doesn't matter!” She leaned down to the bed to look him in the eye. “It's me or death, Mason. Take your pick.”
    Death was sounding better and better. He didn't want to die, but the alternative was worse. “I don't like those options.”
    She ran her hand down his jawline. “No one will find you here, Mason. I don't care how long you want to play this game.” She kissed him again, this time pressing her tongue against his lips for entry. When he denied her,