Yet he said, "If you're here as a business partner, you shouldn't stand so far away. But if you're here as my fiancée, I'll let you pass."
He made himself perfectly clear, and Shalma Hughes understood perfectly.
It was a thinly veiled ultimatum to force her into accepting this marriage—a loveless marriage. In truth, she ought to be jumping for joy. What right did she have to make "The Hand of God," the Leader of the Winslow Family, go to such great lengths and scheme so endlessly just for her?
A flawless, unrestrained smirk graced her lips, and her beautiful eyes darkened. Shalma looked at the handsome man seated in the executive chair, his arms resting on the armrests. His gaze was unfathomable, his aura as commanding as that of an emperor.
"It seems you truly don't care for the title of Mrs. Winslow. So many women would kill to climb to that position, yet you cast it aside like an old shoe."
