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“I would have taken care of them.” He clipped every word insistently.
“But they’re my responsibility.”
“Don’t start that again. We’ve covered that ground.”
“Fine. You blemished my career.”
“No.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “I brought your actions to light. You made the choice to go after that scumbag all on your own.”
“Someone has to. And thanks to you, I’m still stuck behind a desk.” Anger clawed its way from her belly to her chest.
“You’re still alive,” he countered, sitting back and crossing his arms, his irritation vibrating in the air between them.
How could she be so angry with him at the same time she yearned to fall to her knees and obey his every illicit command?
“And Tony will never have justice. A killer is still on the loose. My brother’s children will never really know their father. My parents won’t ever be complete again. My sister-in-law doesn’t say a word, but I know she’s tormented that I haven’t caught Ricky Wayman and made him pay for Tony’s murder.”
Not that Gia had given up. More than once, she’d gone to the thug’s crime-ridden neighborhood alone to seek out Ricky. She didn’t plan to stop until she brought him in. Confessing that to Jason wouldn’t be smart. At this point, she didn’t know exactly what his reaction would be, but she didn’t think it would be pleasant.
“What if you got yourself killed? How would your parents take that? What would your sister-in-law do without you?”
“Since I’m in no danger of being on the streets anytime soon, I guess it’s not an issue.”
Jason sent her a hard stare. “You’re safe.”
“I feel useless.”
“I would still make those same phone calls again.” He grabbed his beer and took a long swallow before setting the bottle far too carefully on the table. “What do you want to happen next? With us, I mean.”
Now came the conversation she’d dreaded and feared, but they had to air this out. “I’m assuming you want a divorce.”
She hadn’t been any sort of wife to him, so that seemed logical.
Instead, he just looked pissed off. “You’re assuming?”
“We can’t go on this way.”
“Finally. Something we agree on.” He leaned in again, elbows braced on the table as his stare snared hers. “So I’m going to give you a choice: Spend between now and our anniversary with me—and I mean twenty-four/seven with me, in every fucking way I deem. If the twenty-fourth rolls around and you still want a divorce, file. I won’t fight you. In fact, I’ll not only honor the terms of our prenuptial agreement, but I’ll give you the amount stipulated if we’d remained married five years. If you want a divorce now, I’m filing tomorrow, and you get nothing.” He raised a brow at her. “Decide.”
Gia sucked in a breath at his proposition. “This instant?”
“The offer is only good for the next ten minutes.”
She’d always known that Jason played hardball, but she hadn’t expected him to use those skills on her. The prince she’d fallen in love with wasn’t trying to reconcile with her, but control and punish her.
“So you’re trying to coerce me into bed for a little revenge, or do you just want to work me out of your system?”
He shrugged. “My motivation is irrelevant. I merely asked you to choose.”
Gia’s immediate instinct was to tell him to shove his choice up his ass. She couldn’t be bought, no matter how rich and powerful he was. On the other hand, her conscience wouldn’t allow her to turn her back on him again. Besides, the two hundred fifty thousand dollars he dangled in front of her face could change her entire life. All she had to do was give the man she loved slightly less than three weeks of her time.
It wasn’t exactly a nightmare scenario—except for the part where he probably ended up crushing her heart at the end. Maybe she deserved it. Jason might not admit it, but she’d hurt him this past year. If having her under his thumb for a few weeks enabled him to move on after they ended, she owed him that.
“I’ll come with you.” She’d figure out what to do about work, what to say to her parents, how to make sure Mila and the kids had the help they needed.
A satisfied little smile danced across his lips. “Excellent. Present yourself at my condo tomorrow at precisely six p.m. Arrive wearing no more than three garments—whichever three you want—and a pair of high heels. If I have to peel off additional clothing before I fuck you, we’ll start with punishment.”
Shock whiplashed her. He’d always been direct, but his sharp command, followed by the declaration that he intended to take her to bed, both made her mad and frothed up her libido. She hadn’t had sex since their wedding night. She hadn’t even had energy or privacy for masturbation. Though her long-denied sex drive wasn’t at all upset about his demands, her head knew that his proposition was riddled with land mines. Eventually, this would blow up in her face.
