Page 2 of Married to the Enemy

Another swirl of petals skittered across her shoes, sticking to the damp denim at her ankles like ghostly fingers trying to hold her back. She almost listened to them. Almost.

“Right,” she muttered under her breath, steeling her resolve as her stomach twisted. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Approaching carefully, ready to pull back at the first sign of danger, Mia stepped closer. “Excuse me, sir?” she tried again, sounding far too timid for her preference. She needed to be clear, firm, professional—state her case, offer him the money, get this over with.

“What?” he snarled, barely lifting his head to look at her.

The word cracked through the chilly spring air like a whip. Mia flinched instinctively, her heart thudding in her chest. For a split second she worried he might lunge at her, his hunched shoulders shifting like a threatened animal about to strike. He sounded less like a man and more like an angry bear with a thorn buried deep in his paw—raw, irritated, and dangerous.

Her pride bristled at the way her nerves betrayed her, and she straightened her spine. Slightly indignant, but still every inch the desperate woman she was, Mia forced herself forward another step. “I wanted to offer you a deal.”

He looked at her sharply, and his glare speared through her. She froze, stunned by what she saw.

Those weren’t the bloodshot, yellowed eyes she had prepared herself for. No cloudy film of addiction, no dull haze of hopelessness. Instead, twin shards of clear blue cut into her—eyes so startlingly bright, so unexpectedly alive, that she forgot to breathe. Rimmed by lashes darker than coal and framed by heavy brows, they looked wrong on this downtrodden man in a filthy jacket and half-laced boots. Too vivid. Too… magnetic.

The scraggly beard and tangled hair fit her mental picture of a man society ignored. The dirt smudge on his cheek, the grime on his hands—she’d expected all of that. But not this. Not eyes that could have belonged to a movie star or a soldier in a glossy recruitment poster. Eyes that held her captive, daring her to come closer even as common sense screamed at her to run.

Her chest tightened. What the man didn’t understand—what he couldn’t understand—was that she was desperate. And time was running out. If her father discovered she was nearby, if he learned what she was attempting, he would…!

No! She shut down the thought before it could take shape. She couldn’t bear to imagine what he might do if he ever found her.

“What do you want, lady?” the man snapped again, his voice sharper this time, angrier.

Mia flinched, heat rushing to her cheeks. The reaction shamed her as much as it startled her. She’d met homeless people many times before in her wandering years, and they had always been kind, sweet even, despite the weight of their circumstances. This man was neither. His tone was razor sharp, his presence filled the air, and suddenly the whole idea seemed beyond reckless. Maybe this was a mistake.

“Ne… never mind,” she murmured, retreat tugging at her feet. She turned, ready to abandon the insanity of her plan.

“Lady, are you in danger?”

The question stopped her cold.

His voice had softened, the snarl gone, replaced with something almost gentle. Concern, real and unexpected, wove through the words. That change—the sudden shift from feral beast to quiet protector—startled her more than the barked anger had.

Her gaze slid back to him, catching again on those impossible eyes. The absurd thought slipped into her mind—an image of brushing back the wild hair from his face, soothing him, soothing herself. The instinct was so ridiculous she clenched her fists to drive it away.

“No, that’s okay. I’m fine.” The lie tasted bitter, but she forced it out, her voice steadier than she felt.

Again, she tried to turn away, her steps heavy with both regret and relief.

But his voice followed her, low and certain, wrapping around her like a promise. “If you need help, then tell me what’s wrong. I can fix it. I promise.”

Her feet carried her backward before her mind could catch up, each step heavier than the last. Shoulders slumped, head bowed, she turned away from the bench. Defeat pressed down on her spine like lead.

What had she been thinking? That she could just walk up to a stranger—a homeless stranger—and hand him her future, her freedom, her safety? It was ridiculous. Worse, it was incredibly dangerous. She should go back to hiding, figure out another way. Except there wasn’t another way. Not in the time she had left.

Her nonna’s face flashed in her mind, pale and slack under the haze of whatever drugs were keeping her compliant. Every moment Mia hesitated was another moment her father tightened his grip.

“Hey, lady!”

The man’s call cut across the empty park, halting her mid-step. Slowly, almost unwillingly, she turned back. He was staring at her, those startling blue eyes locked on her like she was the only thing in his world.

Her throat tightened. She couldn’t stop herself. She was tired of running, tired of the endless fear, the games, the hiding. And her nonna, sweet, stubborn, clever Evangeline, didn’t have the luxury of time.

“I need a husband,” she blurted, the words bursting from her before she could stop them. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she shut her eyes with a sigh of frustration. “Sorry. That came out… creepy.” When she opened them again, his expression hadn’t softened, but his eyes—those impossible eyes—hadn’t left hers either.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep talking. “I need help.”

“In the form of a husband?” he asked, his tone caught somewhere between disbelief and curiosity.