But I was still her fucking husband.

My body vibrated with rage as I clutched the phone. “Why the hell would you do that?”

“I had my reasons.” Traffic noise honked in the distance. “I’ll tell you but only face to face. I’m calling to see if you want to meet here. Have the night with me in the city?”

I rubbed a hand over my eyes. My desk was littered with business mergers and recent acquisitions along with expanding more heavily into the orphanage and homeless children charity. I had so much on my plate; my mind had been foggy for weeks. Ever since I started treating Tess with kid gloves, I hadn’t been able to concentrate.

For the first time since welcoming her into my bed, I wanted to orgasm while away from her. I was tempted to lock myself in the bathroom and squeeze my cock while fantasizing about what I used to do to her. It killed me to touch her so gently. And getting hard while stroking her rather than biting her was a non-winnable mission.

I loved her. I found her beyond attractive. But not being able to give in to the madness inside screwed me up.

“You want a night in Paris?” My voice dropped to a growl. Images of kinky pain, pressed against the hotel window, and furious sex in a foreign bed filled my mind.

Christ, I want to.

“I can’t.” If I did, I’d fuck her rather than make love to her. I’d hurt her. I’d ruin everything that we’d tried to make. I’d given myself two months since the night in the pool. If she wasn’t knocked up by then, I would submit to doctor’s tests and opinions. I had three more weeks before that happened. I wouldn’t jeopardize it by giving in to what I wanted more than anything. “I have too much work to do.”

The lie percolated in my chest when what I really wanted to say was you’re not safe with me. Not right now.

Tess dropped her voice. “Too bad, maître. I’ve already reserved the pent-house at the Ritz. I’ll be there all night. It’s your call if you want to join me. Either way, I’m not coming home.”

Ferocity filtered into my muscles, shooting me upward from my desk chair. “Esclave, don’t you dare threaten—”

The phone call cut off, hanging dead in my hand.

Fuck!

Everything inside wanted to teach her a goddamn lesson. Remind her that she couldn’t get away with such rebellion. But in order to punish her, I had to hurt her, and I wouldn’t do that. Not anymore.

Resentment billowed. I wanted to be furious at Tess, but mainly, I directed it at myself. Every day of my existence, I prided myself on having ultimate control over my darkness and fucked-up desires. However, Tess had shredded my restraint, given me freedom to be who I truly was, and then made me fall in love knowing she loved me back.

She’d given me so much.

And I was the one who’d changed the rules between us. I was the one who’d hurt her by pulling away. And I didn’t know how to fix it.

I wanted her to carry our future. I wanted to keep her safe like I’d always done. Was that so bad? Didn’t the gift of what we could have outweigh the intolerable payment in our present?

She’d kept my beast alive and in control of me. And now that I’d shackled that part, she acted as if I’d broken something perfect between us.

Daily, she tried to undermine my control, doing her best to coerce me into letting go. She couldn’t be trusted anymore, and if I couldn’t trust her, how the hell could I trust myself?

I wanted more. I wanted to drive deep inside her and do what I hadn’t been able to do. That animalistic craving of making her pregnant consumed my thoughts. She made me feel less like a man. Unworthy. Not the man I knew. And I hated it.

If she wanted to talk about our issues on unknown territory in Paris, then fine.

Maybe it was for the best.

Pressing the intercom to my secretary outside, I snarled, “Call the helicopter. Je veux être au Ritz immédiatement.” I want to be at the Ritz immediately.

* * * * *

“Welcome to the Ritz, Mr. Mercer.”

My temper was about to snap. I couldn’t be around anyone other than my wife. And even then, I needed a room between us, so I didn’t raise my hand in discipline. What if she’d been taken from me again? What if any number of things happened while I was at work and not able to protect her?

Damn her.

Fuck her.

She was going to get a spanking. Multiple. Screw my vow to keep her safe from me.

“The key to the presidential suite.”

The manager handed it over, well trained in recognizing the needs of clients and knowing when to shut the hell up. The moment the key hit my palm, I strode toward the bank of elevators and the private one reserved for the suite on the top floor.

Stepping inside the silver box, I punched the button to ascend.

I had no luggage. No belongings.

But I didn’t need anything because my wife was waiting for me and I would cart her home even if it meant the public saw me dragging her by her hair.

I wouldn’t tolerate such things.

Not when it made me so fucking worried about her.

The elevator opened. I stormed out, slamming the keycard into the ornate double-breasted door, and entering the suite.

Stalking through the opulent space with marbled living room, kitchen, and games room, I found Tess coming out of the bathroom.

A towel wrapped around her head showed off her swan neck with the silvery brand. Her willowy body was covered with an oversized hotel towel, hiding so much of her from view.

The moment her eyes met mine, she froze. “Wow, that was fast.”