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“How do you know my name?”
“Shouldn’t I know my fiancée’s name?”
Wait.Fiancée?
Oh, dear God. What the fuck was happening? No this couldn’t be right.
“What?” A dizziness filled my head, and I grabbed hold of the edge of the table. “You’re Simon Drakos?”
The intense way he held my gaze increased the arousal already coursing inside me and made me want to smack myself.
“I am. And I believe our negotiations for your freedom are about to get very interesting.”
I clenched my teeth, and the haze of lust from seconds earlier dimmed.
Was he for real? He couldn’t be implying what I thought he was implying.
“You don’t want to marry me any more than I want to marry you. Why don’t you take a seat and listen to my offer? If you don’t like what I have to say, you can fuck off, and I’m in no worse a position than I was a second ago.”
“If that’s how you want to play it.” He pulled out the chair across the table from me and sat. “We’ll do it your way. Just know the ball is in my court.”
“I don’t play ball. My preferred game is cards. And in Vegas, the house always wins.”
“Then deal, Ms. Mykos. What is your freedom from a life tied to me, in my bed, to do with as I will, worth?”
The heat in his hypnotic green irises had my core quivering in a way I’d never experienced before. The asshole was fucking potent, and he knew it.
I refused to look away. That was his goal—to intimidate me, to make me squirm, to make me feel as if he had all the power.
Trying to ignore the way my traitorous body responded to him, I stated, “One hundred million dollars.”
“Are you offering me your share of the trust? Don’t you need it?”
“I’d rather work for the rest of my life than spend my existence in a loveless marriage.”
“Love is a fairytale the world brainwashes into little girls.”
“My father loves my mother so I know it’s not a fairytale,” I challenged, lifting my chin before adding, “And your parents eloped so obviously they had more than just a passing affection.”
A crease formed between his brows. “What do you know of my parents?”
The hardening of his tone conveyed that I’d touched a nerve.
Interesting.
“I know what my mother told me. Your parents had a torrid affair, and your father turned his back on a lucrative marriage contract, a position with his father, and a fortune for your mother. If that’s not love, what is?”
“Love makes people weak.”
“So, you do believe in love but don’t have time for the complications, is that it?”
“Love isn’t something I care to pursue with anyone. Marriage, for me, is a mutually agreed-upon business arrangement.”
“And hence the reason we aren’t a match.”
“So, you want love, roses, and happily ever after. It doesn’t exist.”
“I’m not naive. Love doesn’t mean everything is perfect. It just means the couple accepts each other the way they are. They don’t have to change to fit a mold or be something society says they have to become. Or hide away the deepest, darkest parts of themselves.”
