Anthony was livid. He kicked me square in the stomach.
"Vivienne, you ungrateful wretch!"
"If I didn't still need that face of yours at night, I'd slash it to ribbons!"
"You think you're so proud? Get over here. I want her on the floor like a dog, licking up every drop of that wine until Bianca is satisfied!"
I doubled over, clutching my stomach, before I could even straighten up. Wyatt grabbed a fistful of my hair and dragged me forward. No matter how hard he pressed down on my shoulders, I locked my hands around the edge of the table and refused to bend my knees.
Anthony's expression twisted with impatience.
"Are your legs just for show? Kick her!"
Wyatt's eyes went cold. He drove his foot into the back of my knee.
I was about to go down.
Then a foot shot out from the side. A custom leather shoe, steady and sure, caught my knee before it hit the floor.
I looked up and met Connor Henson's face. The kind of face sculptors dreamed about and never finished.
His hands were still in his pockets, the corner of his mouth barely lifted. His eyes were as cold as his voice.
"Who's got the nerve to make a princess kneel?"
