Page 8 of Trump Card


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“Well, you did kidnap me,” I point out.

Christopher wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. “You love being my captive.”

“You say that like I still am.”

“You are,” he growls. “I'm going to chain you to me for life, so you’ll never get away from me.” “That doesn't really sound fair,” I pout playfully.

“Make no mistake,cara mia,” his voice drops a note, “I am completely enslaved to you as well. You have my heart in chains. I still can't believe you took a bullet for me.” His eyes take on a look of wonder, and his voice becomes gruff with emotion. “And after I kidnapped you, no less, and caused you to sprain your ankle.” He shoots me a look filled with remorse. “I still don’t understand how you don’t hate me,mi amor.”

I shrug. “You're obviously not marrying me for my brains.”

He laughs a deep, throaty laugh before he sobers and says right into my ear. “I’m marrying you for so much more than that. Your mind, your heart, your body, and your soul. It's all mine.”

I melt at the look in his eyes. He's right. I am still his captive, but I'm a willing one.

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