Page 98 of Mafia Obsession

Guys.

They turn in unison and disappear toward the elevator.

“Whatareyou doing here?” I ask, my gaze narrowing.

She meets my stare without flinching. “I work here.”

The simplicity of the statement almost makes me laugh.

“You can’t be my assistant anymore,” I reply evenly. “You’re going to be my wife.”

Her tense expression borders on frustration. “About that…”

Checking my watch again, I hide my irritation that Rhys Quinlan is late. I’m seizing something from the docks, a shipment notification Daria pulled from Sinclair’s phone.

Whatever Lourdes is going to say can’t unfold in the open.

“In my office.” I gesture for her to follow me.

Folding her arms, she says, “You just said I can’t be your assistant.”

“My threat of picking you up and carrying you applies here too, my lovely fiancée.”

She shakes her head and follows me into my office, closing the door behind us. I make her wait as I use the remote to rotate the windows blinds until it’s just the city and us. She stands near my desk, posture rigid despite the tremor I detect in her hands.

“David’s body is in the morgue. Messages have been sent to all syndicates: A declaration that you are mine.” I hand her the marriage contract I had drawn up. “I need you to sign this. The only reason we’re not already married is that David’s death certificate needs a couple of weeks to process. I have someone working on a marriage license.”

“You’ve been busy,” she scoffs, flipping the pages over. “I wonder if you’ll make me disappear that easily.”

“Don’t,” I say, my voice sharper than intended. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know what he was doing, Lourdes.”

“Just like I’m supposed to pretend you didn’t kill him,” she shoots back like a blade she’s been sharpening for days.

“I didn’t kill him,” I repeat, stepping closer. “If I had, there’d be nothing left to bury.”

Without looking at it any further, she tosses the marriage contract onto my desk. “And you think this fixes my problem?”

“Yes,” I hiss, my patience thinning. “It’s for your protection. We talked about this.”

Silence crashes down as quickly as her temper rose.

Her voice is low and suffocating when she says just above a whisper, “I can’t do this, Ares.”

I reach into the top drawer of my desk and withdraw the velvet box delivered an hour ago. I open it and set it down on the marriage contract.

“I picked this out,” I say quietly. “Just for you.” The large central diamond catches the bright morning light and sends colored prisms across the wall. “I’m not caging you,” I continue, my tone softening as I circle the desk to stand before her. “I am fortifying you, and I will not watch you die because you wantspace.”

She looks from the ring to the contract and back to me, her eyes shining. “It’s beautiful, but this whole world you’re talking about doesn’t seem real.”

I pull it from its cushioned slot and press the ring into her palm. “The dangers are very real, Lourdes. Wear my ring. It’s as good as my guards.”

Her jaw tightens, and for a moment I think she’ll throw it back at me.

Instead, she closes her fingers around it and picks up the marriage agreement. “I need to read this,” she says, and shuffles out of the office.

The silence that follows stretches taut as wire.

As the door closes, I stare at her through the glass. No, it doesn’t seem real thatI’mhere. Crazed. Over a woman. A woman who just walked out on me without accepting my marriage proposal.