“You do not need to trust anything,” Zervou replied, watching the anger in her expression. Why were women so bound and determined to be angry when he offered to take care of things? It should be met with gratitude, but he always seemed to find himself faced with stubborn, pointlesspride.
Frustration simmered within him, but he did not let it take hold. He kept his seat and his tone neutral. “You only need to do as you’re told.”
She stiffened, and he found himself reliving the feel of her skin under his thumb. The catch of her breath and that flash of heat in her eyes before she’d blinked it away. Because she reacted to the wordsdo what you’re toldin much the same way.
Physical reaction. Which stirred one of his own.
“I don’t generally do that, either,” she said after a moment, never quite meeting his gaze.
Fascinating.“Well, some sacrifices must be made to get what we want.”
“We.” Bitter again. So used to being on her own, he supposed. He knew a bit about that, didn’t he? And trying to save those who did not wish to be saved. And all these similarities had one root cause.
“Erjon Hyseni will pay. That is what you want, is it not?”
She stared straight ahead at the wall. Her voice was devoid of any emotion, but her expression was fierce. “Yes, that is what I want.”
“Then it is awe,glikí mou. You do not need to trust me. Use me.” He smiled when she looked over at him. “And I shall use you.”
Ari felt…unsettled. Unmoored. The way he said things did something to her. Internally. Chemically. She was not used to feeling like someone else was in the driver’s seat of her body’s reaction.
She knew how to take blows, how to land them. She did not know what to do withhim.
“What are your demands then? I have already paid off your mother’s debt. I will foot the bill for your mother’s recovery. You will also be given an allowance. Money is no object here, Ariadne.”
“An allowance? Like a child?” Why she was being petulant she didn’t know, except she needed to find some clear, grounded footing, and fighting always did that for her.
“We could call it a…weekly salary if you prefer,” he said, so unoffended, so easy. “You will be paid for your time. Enacting your duties.”
“Which are?”
“Your duties will be everything required to play your role. To appear as my companion, then fiancée. To attend whatever dinners, parties, events I require. To have your picture taken, to be interviewed—this will require some media training, of course.”
“And what of boxing?”
“You may continue through your next bout. Ideally, Erjon has crawled his way out of whatever sewer he finds himself in by then. If not, you may have to take a break from organized fights, though you will still be able to train if you wish. If we should have to get married—”
“Kratitheíte, married?” This was insanity. Marriage was…legally binding. She had no romantic notions about the institution, but it still spoke of partnership and intimacy and trust—even a marriage based on pretense. There was legality and risk—to her, the party with nothing.
Why was she even considering this ordeal? Did she really think he’d let her have access to all this money? All these…options. When she’d never had any. Just to…play pretend?
“If it need go that far, you will be compensated even more generously in a divorce settlement.”
It was all too good to be true. It couldn’t possibly work out this way. He had to be lying, tricking her. He certainly would have no reason to keep his word on this.
But the money he’d given the Sakkos enforcers was no trick. It could come with strings that were tricks, but the debt was paid either way. Mom would be safe for at least a little while—which was more than Ari could do herself.
Could she say no, if the debts were paid either way?
She could deny the answer for a few more days. Convince herself there was another way. But there wasn’t. There never was.
And if it brought Erjon out of hiding… If this rich and powerful man enacted revenge against the man she wanted to be free of…
Wasn’t it worth any cost?
Mom passed out in her room made that clear, didn’t it?
She lifted her chin, met his gaze. She was a fighter. What was this but another fight? Another bout? She could do it. And if she didn’t get all the prize he offered, at least she’d get some.
