"You're saying he's marrying her for my family’s money."
"I'm saying he's marrying her forcover." My jaw tightens. "There's a difference. Money he could get other ways. What he needs is a name nobody questions. Your sister's a clean answer to a dirty problem."
"You could be wrong." She places the glass down on the counter, slides it away from her as a natural part of the movement while she absorbs the blow.
"I could." I hold her eyes. "I'm not."
Her hands are shaking again, but it's got nothing to do with cold now.
"Six months," she whispers. "She met him six months ago and the whole family handed him to her like a prize. And the one person they all think is broken... " A laugh comes out of her, flat and humorless. "I'm the problem.I'mthe one who's tooparticular."
"Amelia."
"Don't." She holds up a hand. Breathes. Gathers herself back together, card by card, and when she looks at me again her eyes are wet and furious and absolutely steady. "Can you prove it?"
I think about the file. The men waiting for what they’re owed. What it'd cost to pull the thread loose where she could see it.
"Yes," I say.
"Then that's what I want." Her chin comes up, defiance worn like good manners and armor, like the only thing she's got left. "First negotiation. You prove it. Before that girl marries a lie with my family cheering from the pews."
She has no idea what she's just asked me for. No idea what doors it opens, or what walks through them.
"Consider it done," I say.
She nods slowly, suspicion at how easily I agreed crossing her face before she accepts it. She might not believe it right now, but I’ll make sure she understands by the time she marries me. I mean what I say.
She nudges her glass of whiskey around the countertop, the rough sound of glass sliding over the butcher block, filling the silence.
“Now you,” she finally says, lifting her eyes back to mine and taking a sip of whiskey as though to steel herself against what I’m about to say.
“You already know. I want a wife beside me. I want to breed my wife and have a house full of kids. A legacy. A huge family to protect. It’s not something I ever thought I’d have.”
The only time I see any reaction from her when I say this is a small flicker of her eyebrows when I use the word “breed”. But it’s the truth. As much as I don’t want to scare her off right now, she should go into this with her eyes wide open.
She considers what I’ve said for a moment. “I think we are aligned in what we want our futures to look like,” she finally says, lifting her glass forward. I clink mine to hers and we both drain our remaining drinks.
“So, when do we start all this?” she asks, once the burn has subsided.
“Whenever you’re ready. The marriage won’t be instant, my eldest brother, Rovin, he will set the pace as all five of us will be marrying in quick succession, I imagine. And there’s the matter of your residency here in the US…” I trail off, waiting for her to fill the gaps in what I know.
“Dual citizen. My mother is American.”
“And are there any…traditions or expectations I should know about?” I ask, still surprised at how oddly willing she is to blow up her life and marry a man like me.
She shrugs. “I’m past caring. I did everything they wanted my whole life. Now I’m making the decisions and I choose this. I choose you. The rest we will make work, because one thing I will never allow to happen between us is a divorce. We deal with whatever gets thrown at us as a team.”
I nod in agreement.
“Now, shall we go to bed and make sure we are compatible? Or do you still want to negotiate?”
Amelia
His words hang between us like a gauntlet thrown on the marble floor.
Shall we go to bed…?
The casual way he says it should offend me. Instead, it sends heat pooling low in my belly, thick and insistent, the same heat that had built in the car when his eyes kept dragging over my body like he owned it already.
