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She looks away to stare out the window for a second as if aching for a semblance of confidence before she begins confessing.
“My father is a conservative and strict man who lives by old traditions and values. He expects the same from his daughters and now that I’ve turned twenty-five, he wants me to settle down and start my own family. He doesn’t care that I’m not ready and I’m happy with the things I’ve accomplished in my life. All he wants is for me to find a husband, preferably one of his choosing.”
“Is he forcing you?” I demand, my voice tinged with anger.
I lie to myself that it’s her situation I’m mad at and not because of the woman herself. I tell myself that I don’t care if she’s married to another man, making her forbidden and off-limits once more. Only for forever this time.
She pulls me back to the present when a broken laugh spills from her lips. She shrugs and I listen as she answers softly.
“Just in subtle ways every time I meet them. Everyone says peer pressure is bad, they obviously haven’t met my parents.”
I’m keenly aware of the fact that she’s trying to make it sound like a joke, but nothing about it is funny.
“How will a fake relationship fix the problem, Bianca? Why go to such lengths?”
“Because if I don’t marry this year, my little sister, Arya, will never get to.” She sighs, her tone sad. “My father will never agree and then Arya will hate me forever. I love her too much to ruin her future. So when my best friends suggested having a fake marriage in front of my family until Arya has hers, it felt like a perfect plan. I’ll end mine shortly after and this way, nobody gets hurt.”
“I don’t know whether to be impressed or laugh at the insane plan you and your friends concocted. You think it’ll be that easy to convince your father?” My voice is incredulous.
“Oh, trust me. He’ll be all too happy when it’s all he’s ever wanted.”
“Your father is a smart man, Bianca. Your plan is very risky,” I point out. “What if he catches you in your lie?”
“He won’t,” says Bianca confidently. Then again, she knows her father better than I do.
“If you say so.”
“So will you be my fake husband?” she nervously asks. The hopefulness in her voice as she stares up at me almost has me saying yes to her.
Perhaps her craziness is rubbing off on me.
“I still don’t understand why you’re propositioning me.”
“Rosa actually suggested your name.”
The expression on her face is so innocent and breezy that I might as well have imagined the sass and fire from before. It’s amusing and adorable that she pretends Rosa is the only reason she proposed to me. I ignore the slight jealousy at the absurd thought she might have another man in mind.
It still clouds my head as I demand in a low voice, “Who did you think of, kitten?”
“What?” She nervously swallows, taken aback.
I slide her to the edge of the table by grabbing her around the waist when she attempts to put space between us. The move presses her soft curves deliciously against my abs. A shiver dances down her spine when I inch my hand underneath her jacket above her thin top.
When her scent hits my nose, my fingers dig into her skin involuntarily.
Does her cunt smell the same? I ache to find out.
“If not me, then who were you going to ask?”
I notice her hands grasp the edge of the table on her sides, betraying her nerves. Or is she aroused at my closeness and trying to hide it? It has to be if the way her nipples have turned to stone through the thin material of her blazer is any proof.
“Why does it matter? I asked you,” she croaks out.
“I want to know.”
When she realizes I won’t budge, she huffs, “Fine. No one.”
“Admit I’m the only man you wanted.”
