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CLARA
Iblinked up at Tatum. A rush of vindictive pride surged through me, gleeful to hear of Grigore’s death at Tatum’s hands. I was as bloodthirsty as the next sef, and to hear Tatum had wiped out his rival made me wet with lust.
I felt his striking eyes like a hot brand on my face, scrutinizing every flicker of expression. Gaze searching his, I tossed my head. Instantly, his grip tightened around my hair and regained control. Hmm…that felt too good for words, him controlling my movements, however slight they might be.
I paused for a moment to just stare at him. God, he was so beautiful. The expression of determination lining his face made my panties wet. Jaw set, one fine muscle flickering with willful intent. His beautiful, sculpted lips pressed together, another sign of his persistence. There was no moving this man.
An errant blond lock of hair fell across the bruise that had blossomed around his eye. Each time I looked up at him, I was reminded of what he’d survived, and I wanted to weep. But I knew that I was a comfort to him just as I was, lying at his feet, thigh-high torn at the knees, ironed skirt wrinkled, and my tight chignon wrecked by his hand.
Tilting my head back, he said, “I want to fuck you, but I want to marry you more. Get a bag packed. We’re leaving for Vegas.”
Now he was babbling nonsense. The shock of losing his clan and life in New York must have addled his brain.
“We’re going to be a force to be reckoned with,” he promised. “An unstoppable force. This is checkmate. We take the game back with this killer move.”
“I’m not fighting my father,” I replied. That was never going to happen. “My father didn’t do anything wrong.” Okay, even if he was in the wrong, I wasn’t about to tear the Hagi clan in half and ruin his life’s work.
“I beg to differ. He manipulated you with this ‘remain a virgin’ thing, tangling you up in this mythology he’s spun around the Virgin Queen. Once he learned you lost your virginity, he reverted to the old, patriarchal ways and planned to marry you off, giving Grigore the keys to your kingdom. He should be thrilled when he hears we are married. Unlike Grigore or any other man who panders to your family, I will always have your back.”
I shook my head. This was madness. I mean, he’d come back contrite, but he hadn’t even declared his love for me. Was I simply to assume it? I mean, I kind of did, but still. And then, there was the assumption that my father would automatically accept us. While Tatum made a good point that if he was going to allow marriage, then Tatum was a dead ringer for a contender, but…
Tatum went on, “I followed Alex. I never wanted to be first. Not as an equal or a peer, but you make me want to be more. You inspire me to become the greatest version of myself. I will earn the right to be by your side, rule alongside you, throne to throne. No other man could ever give your father that guarantee.”
His dark eyes turned flinty. “But make no mistake about it, Clara, I’m not giving you a choice. There’s no scenario in which you are not mine. You will never belong to another man. Ever.”
I did like the sound of that. The idea of being with anyone else made my skin shiver as if the temperature had dropped to zero. Almost every mafie man I knew had ice in his veins, cold and calculating. Tatum included, except when it came to me. With me, his blood ran hot.
“If you’re so sure he’ll be happy, why don’t we get his blessing?”
“I can’t risk that,” he stated curtly. “Because I fucking love you, and I can’t risk anything getting in the way of us.”
Okay, that did it. Something about hearing the words that he loved me tore down the last wall of resistance. I was all in.
“I love you, too,” I murmured.
People always underestimated Tatum. He was the quiet one, happier working in the background, in the shadows. But for me, he was like the blinding sun on a hot summer beach. His light shone as brilliantly as a clear LA day.
There was nothing as magnificent and all-consuming to me as Tatum.
His nails scored down my scalp in a delectable manner that had my eyes rolling back in my head. It was hard concentrating with him so near me. Something about being surrounded by Tatum’s larger-than-life aura affected me like a drug. I inhaled the faint remnants of his earthy, warm cologne. The leather notes of his scent triggered something in my subconscious, and my body went limp. It was the recognition that I was home, protected, and free.
Returning to reality, I started, “But you said—”
“That he should be happy for you, for us. He should be, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to leave the decision in his hands. We have a better chance of getting his approval if it’s a fait accompli. From the instant we’re joined together in holy matrimony, we’ll adjust and deal with whatever’s thrown our way. Best-case scenario, he sees it the way we do. Worst-case scenario…”
He shook his head and looked down on me with a little smirk tilting one side of his lips upward. “There’s no worst-case scenario because we’ll be together, and no one can tear us apart. I’ll marry you and put a huge rock on your finger. I’ll fuck you. Breed you as soon as possible. I’ll leave my come to dry on your skin, my bite marks on you, bruises to show everyone who you belong to. Any man who looks in your direction will know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you belong to me.”
I shiver of lust coursed down my spine. Rubbing my cheek against the fabric covering his inner thigh, I shifted where I was sitting. “You’re sure you don’t want to…you know?”
“Fuck?” he supplied helpfully with his signature smirk.
I batted my lashes at him. “Mm-hmm.”
“Right after I marry you. Now pack a bag. We’re leaving.”
“Bully,” I griped.
I left a note on my bed for my father, packed a little bag, changed into something more befitting for clamoring down the side of my house, and slipped out with Tatum. I couldn’t believe I was eloping. I prayed my father would accept our marriage, but Tatum was right. Either he accepted us, or we’d figure out something else.
