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“I’m not marrying you, Niko. I don’t understand how you and father can map my life out for me before I ever have a chance to figure out what it is that I want.”
“You are marrying me. The contract has been made.”
“Then, you can marry my father. I didn’t agree to any contract.”
“You didn’t need to.”
“Really? How do you suppose you will get me to say I do?”
“You give a man enough money the rest is just semantics—even the right priest can be bought.”
Her eyes go wide. I can tell immediately she never thought of that. Emilia is blind to the harshness of life and what money and power can do. I’m not sure how she managed that considering who her father is and what he does.
“You wouldpaya priest to forge a marriage license and say it was consensual?”
“If I must,” I tell her with a shrug.
“Why?”she practically whines. “You don’t even like me and well…”
“Well?” I prompt, interested to know what’s going on in her mind. I admit, I didn’t think she’d agree to our marriage easily. I’m not sure I expected her to be so vehemently against it, either. Aren’t all girls supposed to want marriage to men with power and money? Arranged marriages happen often within the “family”. That’s just a fact. I’m a realist. There are worse looking men out there than me. Shit, Emilia could have been matched with Samuelson, who has the same position I have, but lives in Atlanta. He’s also in his sixties with a whiskey and Viagra habit and a penchant for barely legal women—just like Emilia.
Maxwell would die before he would allow that match, but if DeLuca demanded it, he would have to. That’s just the way life goes. Hell, I’m about the same age as DeLuca. What if he had taken a liking to Emilia himself? He could have demanded to have her. I’m sure Maxwell has talked to him about his worry over Emilia. That shouldn’t bother me, but I find it does.
I didn’t want to be married.Correction.Idon’twant to be married. If I decided to make that move on my own, it wouldn’t have been with a girl. The promise of the woman she’s going to be is there, but I need to give her time. I’ve avoided her for a year, but clearly, I need to give her more than that. I can’t contemplate taking this step until she’s more adult. Her body was made for the bedroom, but it’s clear she’s far too young. Hell, every time my mind dips into that area with her, I feel guilt. Yes, she definitely needs more time to grow up. I resent that fact, but it doesn’t change anything.
“You’re old enough to be my father.”
“Apparently, our age difference is the same as your parents,” I point out. Of all her responses, I didn’t expect this one, and it annoys me.
“We are?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s different. They were in love. That’s obviously not what is between us.”
“On that we can agree.”
“See? So why would you do this? Why not wait until you have someone you love to marry.”
My lips twitch. I warned Maxwell about the way girls were. “I don’t believe in love. It’s a made-up emotion.”
“What?” she practically gasps.
“I don’t believe in it.”
“It’s not made up,” she argues.
“It is in my world.”
“Well, it’s realin mine.” I smile because she’s so earnest. I know I’m upsetting her, and I shouldn’t enjoy it, but I am.
“We live in the same world, Emmie.”
“I told you I didn’t like you calling me that.”
“You let Victorio,” I point out. I don’t want to say that fact bothers me, but it does. It’s probably because she’s entirely too friendly with her bodyguard.
“That’s different. Vic is my friend.”
