"Well, sad for you, darling. You cannot fucking leave me for a month. I own you, so shut that mouth of yours," he booms, leaving his seat and leaning over mine.

Closing the distance, he comes extremely close. I can see the immense anger in his white eyes.

"The month will end, Mr. Enrique," I chirp, still not fully aware of my situation. Shut your mouth, Emma, before Mr. Enrique eats you alive!

"Not if I don't want to," he comments, with an evil grin.

What is that supposed to ...