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But that was long before he left me standing in an empty parking lot—alone.
He used me, then left me—just like he always intended.
The question is, why come back now? Why blackmail me into becoming his wife? Unless…
“You need something from me, don’t you?”
I shake my head and open the back door. “You are such a piece of shit. I should have known this was just an elaborate excuse.” I set Biscuit on the floorboard, and she immediately has enough sense to hide under the devil’s seat.
“Your fucking cat better not shit in my car,” he says hatefully, with all of his six-foot-two frame.
Wow. “After everything I just said, you choose to worry about the possibility of my cat shitting on your precious leather interior?”
I am such an idiot. How did I become this guy’s friend, much less find him psychotically attractive? I should have minded my damn business and ignored him lurking outside my work all those years ago.
But nooo…
He and his many tattoos intrigued me. I wanted to know every scary detail about him—which was wishful thinking. I made him who I wanted him to be, and he let me.
Because he needed something from me.
“Just so you know, Biscuit doesn’t go around shitting in cars regularly, but if there were ever an appropriate time for her to hack up a hairball, now would be it.”
Van cocks his head to the side, his lips twitching. “I had forgotten how charming you could be.”
“And I had forgotten how delusional you could be. If you think for one minute that you will manipulate me into helping you with one of your punishment games, then you are sadly mistaken.”
As soon as I get into the car, Van’s signature scent of bergamot hits me straight in the face. Damn, he smells so fucking good. What does he bathe in, the tears of newborns?
“You might have evidence against me that requires my compliance, but just know, I’ll make sure we both suffer for my mistake.”
“Get out.”
I don’t.
“Ask me like you love me and can’t wait to say ‘I do.’”
Come to find out, we’re getting married right now. No engagement parties. No wedding showers. Just a quick ride to the courthouse.
I might have shouted several four-letter words that will shame me later, but at least I didn’t sit quietly and give Van peace for his last ten minutes of being single.
Van sighs and reaches into the center console. I should have known he wasn’t pulling out a wedding gift or anything. “Flower,” he croons in a voice I’ve never heard him use, “if you don’t get the fuck out of my car—” He holds a match between us in warning.
“Yeah, yeah. I know. You’ll burn down the courthouse. I thought you might have become more creative with your threats by now. Guess not.”
Like I’ve said something impressive, he smiles. “Okay. Let me rephrase.”
He leans in and strikes the match against the dashboard, causing us to go silent. If there was anything Van and I bonded over, it was fire. I loved it, and, well, so did he. Fire kept my sister and me warm when we were on the run, and fire destroyed Van’s enemies.
We were weird and a little psycho.
“Flower,” he begins softly, “you have two seconds to get the fuck out of my car before I toss this match into the back seat, ensuring your fucking cat doesn’t shit in my car while you marry me.”
I mean, seriously. Is Van not the most romantic man in the universe?
I flash him a grin. “Jeez, who knew you were that excited to marry me? Next time, just say I love you like most men.”
But he isn’t most men—that much is evident when he holds my gaze, daring me to defy him as the flame dances between us.
