Chapter 13

• “Courtesies?” Mariselle scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “You call this a courtesy? This is the act of a tyrant, a man so insecure in his own skin that he must force others to grovel to feel powerful.” She took a step closer, her chin raised. “You want me to kiss you, Don Carlo? To put my lips on yours?”
• He leaned forward, a smirk returning to his face. “Indeed. A simple kiss, to seal our… understanding.”
• Mariselle’s gaze dropped to his lips, then back to his eyes, a look of profound revulsion contorting her features. “As long as I have a child growing inside me,” she declared, her voice rising with each word, “I would rather be fed to the dogs in your filthy kennels than let my lips touch yours.” Her eyes blazed, daring him to challenge her. “And for a young man with more money than sense, why can’t you afford a mouthwash? Your breath stinks like a rubbish heap!”