Chapter 46 Remarry
By sunset, the day’s dust had settled across the ranch, and the three of them returned to the estate.
Heaven went straight to her room, her limbs aching but her mind worse. She could still feel Maverick’s stare on her back an invisible touch she wasn’t supposed to feel.
Maverick and Eva retreated to their bedroom.
Eva had just finished showering. Water still clung to her collarbones as she sat at her vanity, brushing lotion onto her skin, stealing glances at her husband through the mirror.
Maverick sat at the far end of the room, his broad back to her, a newspaper open in hand. A half-finished glass of wine rested beside him.
He didn’t spare her a glance.
His distance had always cut her quietly, but tonight it felt sharper. Their marriage was convenient for him, strategic and unemotional. But for her… she was trying. She wanted it to be more.
“My art gallery will be open soon,” Eva said softly, hoping her voice sounded casual. “Just some final touches left.”
She had read online that couples bonded by talking about their day. She was practicing. She was trying so hard.
“If you need money, let me know,” Maverick replied, still not turning.
Her smile flickered. She didn’t need money, she needed him.
“I actually have some really beautiful pieces. And a special painting I made just for you…” She paused as something else came to mind. “Ah..Heaven.”
The rustle of newspaper slowed. His attention snapped toward her, though he didn’t turn his head or show a single expression.
“Heaven has an incredible talent,” Eva continued brightly. “I took her to my gallery days back. She could read emotions in the paintings. It’s like she could see right through the canvas… she could become a collector one day.”
“I’ll come see your pieces,” Maverick said quietly.
Eva lit up, believing he meant her.
Maverick meant Heaven.
Seizing the moment, Eva asked him, hopeful. “That’s why I was thinking… will Heaven mourn Brother Boyle her whole life? She’s just eighteen. So young. I don’t want her to be trapped forever.”
She picked up her face cream, unaware that she had just stepped onto a landmine.
“I think she should… remarry someday. Don’t you agree?”
Silence froze the air.
Maverick closed the newspaper slowly. His jaw flexed once, tightly.
The word remarry pulsed like a threat in his ears.
He envisioned Heaven with another man’s hands on her waist. Another man’s ring on her finger. Another man’s last name on her paperwork.
His chest tightened painfully, violently.
“She’s fine where she is,” he said, voice low, almost too calm.
Eva blinked in the mirror. “Mave… she’s not. You know she’s not. She’s suffocating in that room. No girl her age would be fine. She needs her own life again.”
“You don’t need to be concerned about that,” Maverick said, tone clipped. “Go to bed.”
But Eva wasn’t sure if he was angry? His voice hadn’t risen once.
He simply reached for his newspaper again, though he wasn’t reading a single word.
Inside him, something dark and possessive coiled like a storm.
Another man?
Heaven?
Never.
Maverick didn’t move from that spot until he was sure Eva had slept.
He stood up and walked out of the room, his eyes soulless, his beast hungry.
She dared think of another man. His jaw tightened, his fist clenched.
He didn’t see her in her room.
He already knew where she would be.
Heaven was in her late husband’s altar room. She was replacing the candles that had almost burned out, she stood in front of his portrait. His gentle smile stared down unchanging.
The door creaked.
Maverick filled the doorway, a silhouette of fury. His shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow, revealing the corded forearms that had pinned her down, bruised her, claimed her.
His eyes blazed, black and bottomless.
Heaven swallowed hard, she recognized his mood. What had she done?
He stepped inside, snd shut the door with a soft click that felt like a trap.
“You want to leave. To remarry.” Came his cold voice as he walked towards her like a predator
Heaven scrambled back against the altar. She shook her head wondering where he got that from. “No…I d..ont”
“Don’t lie to me.” He stalked closer, each step deliberate.
“You think you can just walk away? Find some nice boy to play house with?” His voice dropped, venomous. “You think anyone else gets to touch you?”
Her breath hitched.
“I…I don’t understand..”
He was on her in a second, hand fisting in her hair, yanking her head back.
His mouth hovered inches from hers, breath hot, his eyes lacked all rationality.
Heaven whimpered.
“You’re mine, Heaven. Every moan, every tear, every fucking inch of you.”
Her breath shook, her knees almost gave way .
The altar pressed into her spine, Boyle’s portrait loomed above. Guilt and want collided, her body heated up at his claim.
Maverick’s free hand slid under her skirt, shoving it up to her hips.
“M..ave..rick no no we can’t.. it’s his a..altar… we can’t....”
His fingers found her panties, tore them aside with a rip. “You want a life… I am your life!!,Heaven..you stay where I want you..where I keep you!!” he snarled, two fingers plunged into her without warning.
Heaven gasped, her nails dug into his shoulders. She was already soaked shamefully, helplessly.
His fingers curled, stroking that spot inside her that made her see stars.
His thumb pressed her clit, ruthless circles.
“Look at him,” Maverick growled, twisting her head toward Boyle’s portrait.
“Look at your dead husband while I finger-fuck you….even he can’t do anything”
Tears pricked her eyes. “Maverick…stop…” she couldn’t help but moan
“Stop?” He thrust deeper, scissoring, his fingers, stretching her.
“Your pussy’s begging for it. Dripping down my hand.” He leaned in, lips brushing her ear.
“You’ll never belong to anyone else.”
Her legs trembled, thighs clenched around his hand.
The candle flickered, Boyle’s painted eyes watched.
Heaven sobbed, hating herself, hating him, but her hips rocked into his touch, chasing the edge.
“Say it,” he demanded, slowing his fingers to a torturous tease.
“Say you’re mine.”
“I’m…” A broken moan. “I’m yours.”
He rewarded her with a brutal thrust, thumb flicking her clit.
She came with a cry, her walls clenched around his fingers, vision whiting out. Her knees gave; he held her up, pinning her to the altar as she shuddered through it.
When she sagged, spent, he pulled his fingers free, glistening with her release.
He brought them to her lips. “Taste yourself.”
She obeyed, tongue darting out, tasting her own desperation.
His eyes darkened, possessive.
“You don’t get to leave,” he said, voice low, final. “Not ever.”
He stepped back, adjusting her skirt with clinical precision, leaving her trembling against the altar. Boyle’s portrait stared down, silent.
Maverick turned to go, pausing at the door. “Go to bed and prepare for the hunt tomorrow.”
The door shut. Heaven slid to the floor, tears mixed with the candle’s wax, her body still pulsed with the echo of him.
She was his.
And she hated how much she didn’t want to be free