It was easy to be reasonable when it was just Cora and me. My sister's low, steady voice talked me through my misguided rationalizations. I didn't struggle to stay calm; I didn't fight a tidal wave of raging emotions. I could listen, interrogate my assumptions, and use logic and reason without getting caught up in my feelings. However, as soon as Sinclair appeared, all that vanished.

Just seeing his handsome face made me want to burst into tears. I was so miserable and furious, I didn't know what to do. A sense of utter betrayal slammed into me, and for the first time, I understood why I'd been so afraid of love bombing. He might not have been manipulating me, but I think I'd been falling in love with Sinclair all along, no matter how hard I tried to fight it.

Sinclair's power washed over me the moment he entered the room. He barely acknowledged Cora; his sharp eyes scanned the room, stopping only when they landed on me. He crossed to the couch where I sat and knelt before me. "Ella," my name was a sigh of relief, and he gently unwound my arms, as if worried I'd been injured. I tried to resist, but he made a deep rumbling sound, and I instinctively surrendered. His hungry gaze raked over me before finally meeting my eyes. He took my face in his hands. "Are you alright?"

Knowing I was playing with fire, I shot him a sulky glare. "What do you care?" I hated myself instantly. I sounded like a child.

His brows knitted. "That's a no," he assessed gruffly, pursing his lips as if cursing himself internally. "I'm so sorry about last night. I can explain—"

"I'm fine," I countered sharply, not wanting him to see how badly I was hurt. "I don't give a damn what you do or who you see when we're not together."

Sinclair arched a dark brow, leveling me with a stern expression that made me want to crawl under the couch. "In that case, we can go home and discuss your sneaking out last night—without your guards, without telling anyone where you were going." His powerful hand slid to my nape, and something primal in me recoiled. "Not to mention crawling down trellises in the rain, especially while carrying precious cargo."

"I don't want to go anywhere with you," I snapped, hating the reminder of my recklessness. "I came to Cora's to be with my sister, and I'm staying here."

"Then you have a choice," Sinclair informed me, his voice gravelly. "I'm not leaving you like this. We can have this out here, in front of Cora, or we can go home and do it privately."

I glanced at Cora, who stared at me as if seeing me for the first time. I knew I was behaving like a brat, but I couldn't help myself. Sinclair turned me into someone I didn't recognize, and though part of me thought it might be the baby's influence, I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel right. Pushing back against Sinclair felt natural, something a voice in my head demanded despite my better judgment.

"You need to leave," I growled, a pitiful rumble in my chest.

Sinclair's eyes flashed dangerously; he bared his fangs, revealing his inner wolf. "Have it your way." The next thing I knew, his shoulder was digging into my pelvis, and I was flipped upside down. I was slung over his shoulder like a sack of flour, yelping in surprise as blood rushed to my head. My hair spilled down, completely blocking my vision of anything beyond Sinclair's muscular back.

"Dominic! The baby!" I objected, squirming.

"The baby is perfectly fine," Sinclair promised, locking his arm behind my knees to prevent my escape. "You, on the other hand…"

"Put me down!" I ordered, kicking my feet into his toned abs—pure steel, I remembered. The pain in my toes only enraged me further, and I started beating my fists against his back. "This isn't fair, you tyrant!" I snarled.

"That's right, get it all out of your system, baby," Sinclair chuckled, patting my thighs. "But I'm taking note."

He carried me out the door and into the elevator, seemingly unfazed by my attack. "Can you even feel this, you ogre!" I exclaimed.

"Like ferocious little mosquito bites, sweetheart," Sinclair taunted, earning another outraged snarl. He laughed, carrying me out of the building and onto the street.

"Dominic, people will see!" I said, stilling my movements for the first time.

"Then you might want to stop making those adorable growling sounds. People will think there's an angry kitten on the loose," Sinclair informed me sagely.

"This isn't funny!" I cried, hating his nonchalance. Sinclair deposited me in his limo, and I immediately tried to climb out the other side. Sinclair's speed got the better of me, and I was dragged back. Furious, I sat across from him, biting my lip to stop it from quivering.

"I don't think this is funny, Ella," Sinclair said, sounding sober. "This is very serious to me, but I can't help how your defiance provokes my wolf, any more than you can help feeling provoked by me." His emerald eyes bored into me, conveying intensity I couldn't doubt. "And I admit, I find you too cute when you're riled up…but I don't find our situation amusing."

I crossed my arms, tasting blood. I'd been biting myself too hard. Sinclair was beside me, tsk-ing and gently pulling my lip from my teeth. I pulled away, not wanting his comfort while still furious. Sinclair's jaw clenched, but he let me go. "Ella, if you stopped fighting me, I could tell you what happened."

"You might be able to bully me physically, but you can't make me listen," I sniped. "Whatever you want to say—I don't want to hear it."

More like you're afraid to hear what he needs to tell you, the little voice in my head observed.

So what if I am? I countered. It's not like it will change anything. The writing is already on the wall. I didn't need him to tell me he thought he was over Lydia and wasn't until it was too late. I didn't want his apologies or broken promises about how this wouldn't change our plans.

Maybe not, but you could at least try to be less petty about it.

She has a point. I didn't know why I acted this way with him; I'd never been immature before meeting Sinclair.

You never had the option before, my conscience reminded me. You always had to be the grown-up.

Then I should be able to act like one now, I thought miserably, knowing it was a losing battle. I was about to be a mother. I couldn't regress just because my feelings were hurt.

Sinclair watched me, and I fought the urge to squirm. I took deep breaths, trying to apologize, but unsure how without opening the door to a discussion. Before I could answer, Sinclair's voice broke through my thoughts. "What upsets you more, Ella, the way I handled last night, or the fact that it happened?"

"What?" I replied, defensively. Surely he wasn't suggesting what I thought.

A moment later, my pulse raced as Sinclair repeated his question, cutting to the heart of the matter. "I'm asking: are you angry, or are you jealous?"