“Now, I’m notsayingI’d blackmail you to keep you in a relationship with me…but…”
“That’s revolting,” I state.
He spreads his arms, as though to remind me who I’m talking to.
For reasons inconclusive, I smile again.
Have I been doing a lot of that lately? I think so. Normally, I only smile when I’m playing my fluffy, cute, and stupid games. Never in front of others. But here I am. And here he is. And here we are.
And I’m smiling.
Because it feels like I’m finally on level ground with him. I’m not dreading the unknown as much. Maybe we’ve reached an understanding. Or maybe I’m starting to understand my place in his world a little better.
Whatever he wants from me, one thing stands. Hewantssomething. And, clearly, it’s something that blackmail can’t get him.
That means I have power.
Andpoweris a comforting thing to have.
I say, “So. You’re blackmailing me into staying in a relationship with you?”
He nods. “Yes, that exactly. I’m blackmailing you into admitting that we’re in arealrelationship. Not a fake one. Not a revenge one. Not a murder one. A real, lovey-dovey one.”
“I’m not incredibly lovey or dovey.”
“I find you incrediblydovey, actually.”
Huffing, I sink back in my seat. “You know what I mean.”
His smile sends a jolt ofsomethingthrough me.
I do my best to ignore it, even as unbidden warmth crawls up my neck.
“To confirm,” he murmurs, “we’re in a real relationship now, yes?”
“Against my will, sure. We are.”
“Cute.”
“Heinous.”
“I look forward to seeing how you flirt with me when you’re not trying to keep up the appearances you believe a normal couple possess.”
I shudder at the mere thought. “I have a question.”
“Yes, dove?”
“Let’s say all the great big amounts of growth I’ve experienced between last night and this morning lean somewhat heavily on thefickleside. What if I maybe, accidentally, by mistake get upset with you, and try to kill you again?”
He chuckles, rises, and approaches me. Planting a hand on the back cushion of my chair, he looms above the loveseat.“I think…that might just be what most people callmarriage, darling.”
I laugh.
Malcolm’s breath catches, his smile fades, and his eyes widen.
Crossing my arms, I fix a sardonic smirk on the man. “You’re losing your grasp on the feasible, crow. If you aren’t careful, I’ll completely abandon my suspension of disbelief.”
Pulling a glove on, he hunches, framing my face in his palm. “Explain yourself,” he murmurs.
