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“Your debt, Songbird. I will take control of it, and since it doesn’t make sense to write my own damn self a seven-figure-cheque, I’ll wave it all. You can consider the figure paid in full.” He leans down, brushing a stray curl behind my ear before adding in a murmur, “When we’re married.”
Chapter 3
Elio
My words send a physical shock through Deirdre, which is kind of odd, considering I already told her that we’re engaged in the car. And I sure as shit know that she didn’t forget or mishear me, because she spent the entire ride back here saying that we weren’t. And yet, it’s like I’m telling her for the very first time based on the way that she reacts.
“We’re not getting married,” she spits like an angry cat.
She needs more of that bedtime tea. The cat on that box looked chill as fuck.
She swipes her hands like little claws at the panties I’m already holding. As if by taking them back, she can reassert some sort of control over this situation.
Only problem is she never actually had control over this situation in the first place. She can’t take it back if I’ve never relinquished it to her.
I step smoothly out of her reach, tucking the garment of clothing carefully into my pocket.
“We are,” I counter. “It’s your only option. Being married to me will protect you and you’ll be free of your debt all at once. What’s not to like about that?”
“What’s not to like?” she gasps, disbelief making her words all high and huffy. “How about the fact that I’ll be married to you!”
She tenses, then clamps her mouth shut, her eyes huge. She’s probably afraid that she’s just offended me or hurt my feelings or something, but she hasn’t. I’m more than aware that I’m not the prize in this relationship.
But I’m also the only one who can give her what she needs now.
I’m the only one who can protect her.
I’m the only one who will own her.
Deirdre Titone.
My wife.
Goddamn, do I ever love the sound of that.
I smirk, and that appears to confuse her, because her fury abates slightly.
“I don’t understand,” she says, slowly shaking her head. “This makes no sense. You’ve got to have some actual bride lined up out there somewhere. Why would you marry me just to get Darragh off our backs?”
“I don’t believe I’ve ever made a decision in my entire life for the sole purpose of getting another man ‘off my back.’”
Her cute, freckled nose wrinkles with incredulity. “So… You’re telling me you actually want this? You just… You just decided you want to marry me?”
“Do I look like the sort of man who does a single fucking thing he doesn’t want to do?”
Though to be fair, I never wanted to get married before Deirdre. I know that Uncle Vinny’s got some candidates in mind, and that someone like Nat Rizzo would literally claw another girl’s eyes out for the chance, but before now I always looked at it as a chore to be put off for as long as possible.
But now…
Hell. I’d marry my Songbird right here, right now. In this sweet-smelling bathroom, my furious, beautiful bride without a single stitch on her.
But she deserves a better ceremony than that.
She deserves a better groom, too, but that part is decidedly non-negotiable.
“Your tub is getting full,” I point out blithely when she doesn’t answer.
She doesn’t move. She’s studying me with her pretty mouth pinched and her arms crossed over her breasts, like she’s attempting to figure something out. Trying to see a trap from all possible angles.
