My heart leapt into my throat. Married? Had he seriously just said that? My mouth dropped open in shock as I looked at his confident face. I actually didn’t know whether to jump for joy because the man I loved had just suggested we get married, or punch him in his face because the one time I wanted to be proposed to and he just completely screwed it up and made it a demand instead of a question.

The anger won.

“Really? I don’t think so, Mr Matthews. You see, there’s this thing called free will and the last time I checked, you can’t force someone to marry you because you don’t want your daughter to hate you,” I retorted acidly, shaking my head.

He gripped my wrist and yanked me to him so my chest crashed against his. “Oh, you’re going to marry me, Emma,” he countered, smirking at me.

I threw off his hold and stepped back to get some personal space. “You think so?”

He nodded and raised one eyebrow. “I know so.” He stepped closer to me again, bending so we were at the same level, his eyes boring into mine. “Because if you don’t go pack a bloody bag right now, I’m putting in a call to the best, most expensive lawyer in England. Then I’ll take you to court and petition for full custody of our daughter. I’ll tell the courts how you can’t afford to live, and how you sell your body to clients at the club. My lawyers will rip you to shreds. By the time I’ve finished, they’ll only let you see her for a week in the summer and every other Christmas for supervised visits. Don’t you think I won’t do it, because I will. And don’t even think about running away with her somewhere, because wherever you go, I’ll find you, and it’ll just look even better for my case,” he hissed in my ear.

I closed my eyes. This wasn’t the Carson I fell in love with, was it? Had I really fallen for someone who would threaten to take away the most important thing to a mother, just to get what he wanted? Did I even know Carson Matthews at all? Maybe the Carson I knew was an act and this one was the real one, the hard, ruthless, heartless man standing in front of me.

“You wouldn’t,” I whispered, praying that was true. I don’t know what hurt the most: the fact he was threatening this, or the fact I had just realised the love of my life wasn’t the person I thought he was.

“Oh, I damn well would. You’ve already taken two years of her life away from me; I won’t let you take anymore. Now, get in there, pack a bag for you, Sasha and Rory, and let’s go,” he ordered, taking my arm and giving me a little push in the direction of my bedroom.

I burst into a fresh round of tears. If he’d just asked me nicely, if he’d just suggested moving in with him and marrying him, then I would be the happiest girl in the world. I’d dreamt over and over of Carson proposing to me and us living in a cute little house with a garden. Never once had it happened like this. Never once had it been a demand or threat. Never once had it made me feel like a pile of dirt he’d just stepped in.

How could I marry a guy who I knew had no feelings for me? The only reason he wanted to get married was because his dad had left his family when he was younger and he didn’t want Sasha to feel the same about him. He was breaking my heart because if someone had told me yesterday I would be getting engaged to Carson and moving in with him, I would have felt like I’d won the lotto. Instead, I felt like a dirty, used prostitute. Something for him to throw money at again – but instead of handing me cash this time, he was handing me house keys and his surname. But somehow, the fact that he didn’t love me hurt me most of all. Sure, I would have his name, but he wouldn’t love me. Was he seriously expecting me to stick around and play wife while he went out sleeping with anything that moved, like he did now?

I looked at him pleadingly. If he just told me he loved me, or at least liked me, he didn’t even have to love me. I could live with the fact I would never be good enough for him. If he just took that hateful look off his face, if he just looked at me like he always did, his eyes soft and caring…

“You think raising a child in a loveless marriage is better than us just being friends and you seeing her when you want?” I asked, my voice breaking through emotion. The question would give him the perfect opportunity to tell me he felt something for me, a little something. I’d take anything, any small bone he would throw me.

He frowned. “I’m not into half-arsed jobs. We have a daughter together, therefore we’ll be together. I’m not just gonna be one of those dads who turn up every other weekend to take their kids out. I want to be there for her.”

My heart sank further. He hadn’t said anything about me. It was all about Sasha. I was just part of the package that came with his daughter and nothing more, just the annoying lap dancer he liked to screw occasionally. The fact that I was nothing more to him almost killed me inside.

“I hate you,” I lied, raising my chin and looking him right in the eyes, trying to get some sort of reaction out of him.

His eye twitched but other than that, he didn’t even move. “Thanks. Now, go pack your fucking bags.”

I HEADED TO MY BEDROOM, my heart broken. The love of my life was demanding we get married, so I should be happy; hell, I should be the happiest girl in the world. But I wasn’t.

I looked back at him, and his hard, tight eyes stared straight back at me. The usual warmth and tenderness was entirely gone from them. He regarded me like I was an annoying, dirty little stripper he felt obligated to marry. He actually looked like he despised me.