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I know that he’s still trying to break me from beyond the grave, but maybe part of that is my fault. I don’t have to pick this she-devil in front of me. But I want to. God help me, I want to. Even Geo thinks I shouldn’t do it; he doesn’t trust her—and for good reason. But I think that we both have too much to lose for it not to work. It’s a good business decision.
I swirl my glass once more before tossing back the remaining contents and swallowing. The burn steels me for what I’m about to say.
“You’re going to marry me.” The words burst out of me, and a tiny part of me is excited to see the fire that will light her eyes at my declaration.
I will make her fit into the mold of my perfect wife if it’s the last thing I do. She owes me a debt, and I’m collecting.
The clatter of her fork hitting the plate rings out in the silent room, and slowly—so damn slowly—her eyes rise to meet mine.
“Excuse me? I thought I heard you say the wordsyou, me,andmarryin the same sentence.”
“I did,” I say with a curt nod, confirming that she heard me correctly.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why would I marry you?”
“Because I said so,” I say. I’ve missed that fiery look in her eyes, and I’m enjoying seeing it now.
“Have you lost your damn mind?” she asks.
She covers her mouth as I hear Lilliana gasp across the table.
“No, I’m still very much in possession of it.”
“I can’t marry you.” Wryn shakes her head, pushing back from the table and awkwardly standing half up from the chair when it doesn’t move as far back as she needs it to. She gets off-balance and sits back down—hard. “Fucking heels,” she mutters, shoving back again. Finally, the chair shifts again on the carpet, and she stands. “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth, you pompous ass.”
Silence descends around us as what she said sinks in. I watch her face as she processes that she called me an ass and what that could mean for her.
I’m not amused now. I didn’t think Wryn would take it well, but I thought she’d possibly use that pretty little head of hers to think and realize there was more going on here than what was on the surface. I don’t know why; it’s not like she’s a mind reader. I want something in my life to be easy for once, I guess. Including asking—no, telling someone they have to marry me.
“I’ve been called worse,” I say, sounding bored. I’m anything but. As much as I want easy right now, I have to say, I’m intrigued by her. “Now, sit down.”
She stares at me, and I don’t break eye contact the whole time. I can see the war of emotions flitting across her eyes as she tries to decide what she wants to do. She knows I have her, that she can’t go anywhere.
She can’t be involved in this life without a spine of steel. The women in the Mafia are usually born and bred to be seen and not heard, but a new wave is coming. One where the women are as fearsome as the men, maybe more so.
I don’t want some simpering fool at my side, and I don’t think Wryn is one. I don’t want a demure wife, but I know the men will expect her to be one. It might take some work, but I think I can convince her to act like one, if only for her vested interest in what I can do for her.
Not that Wryn will be at my side for long. I intend to give her, her freedom once her debt is paid. She might have thought she got away with murdering my father because I haven’t killed her, but maybe now, she’s wishing she were dead.
The thought makes me smile.
“What are you laughing at?” she finally asks.
I raise one eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware I was laughing.”
“You were smiling.”
“Not the same thing.”
“I think you were laughing on the inside. Is this a game to you?”
“I can assure you that this is no game. Sit. Down.” My tone turns lethal, and I’ve finally had enough.
After a moment where she looks wildly around the room, she finally grasps the armrests, sinks into the chair, and pulls it back up to the table. She picks up her fork, sliding lettuce around her plate.
