Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“You’ll sleep in my bed and we will consummate the marriage.”
“I want my own room and no on the last part.”
“You can have your own room, but you will sleep in my bed and the consummation of the marriage is non-negotiable.”
“Why? We can just say we consummated the marriage, it’s not the middle ages. No one will check for blood on the sheets.”
“No.”
“What? You’re not comfortable lying? Please.”
“No, actually. I’m not.” He takes the ring out of its box and palms it. Then he traps me. He leans his weight on his fists on either side of me, face so close I’m breathing him in, and the scruff of his five o’clock shadow scratches my cheek. “Besides, all I can think about is how you’ll taste when I lick your pussy. How you’ll feel when I sink my cock inside you.”
“Jesus.” I turn away, my heart racing. I find it hard to breathe when he’s so close like this. Same when, just a little while ago, I felt him beneath me.
It was stupid to straddle him. That was my bad. I meant to keep him from moving while I rubbed in that ointment I knew would sting like hell.
But he turned the tables on me, didn’t he? I get the feeling Cristiano Grigori will always turn the tables on me.
I put my hands on his broad chest, feel the hard muscle beneath warm skin. Feel his heart beat against my palm and remember what it felt like to lie beneath him, all his weight on me. His hard cock between my legs.
Butterflies flutter their wings inside my belly, and I can’t help but feel the skin of his chest, touch the scars, press against the hard muscle. Even bruised and cut and stitched, he’s a powerhouse. Formidable.
He could be safe for me. For Noah. He could protect us. He took a bullet for me that probably saved my life last night.
But I can’t pretend this is good when it is all forced on me.
Shaking my head to clear away stupidity and a naïve desire to want this, I push against him, but he doesn’t budge. Only when I stop pushing does he step away. I guess he wants me to know this is on his terms. That everything will be on his terms.
I already know that, though.
He takes the ring between thumb and forefinger raising only his eyebrows at me.
“If I say no, you’ll drag me to the altar?”
“Probably.”’
“And then what?”
His jaw tightens, his eyes narrow. “Yes or no, Scarlett? I’m getting tired of this conversation. How are we doing this?”
“Sex once. To consummate. Period.”
He watches me, blinks, expression steady and unwavering. “How are we doing this?”
He’s not negotiating.
But I hold out my hand anyway, turn the palm up to take the ring because we both know I’ll agree. It’s the only option.
He shakes his head, takes my left hand and pulls me up to stand instead. He slides the ring on my finger like we’re a real couple. Like he’s my boyfriend and he just proposed, and I said yes, and I’m over the fucking moon.
“Perfect fit,” he says.
I look at the ring on my finger. I’m not naïve enough to think this is in any way romantic. Cristiano may be a better man than Marcus, but he’s still using me. And I have to keep my eyes on my goal. Get Noah and myself out alive.
“It’s worth a lot of money,” he says. “And it’s yours as long as you do as you promise by accepting it. Just remember one thing,” he starts, intertwining our fingers on both of my hands, before drawing them behind my back to hold them in one of his. He squeezes my wrists and tilts my face up by the chin. “We’ve both made a promise now, you and me. I’m trusting you. You’re trusting me. If you betray me, you will make me your enemy. Do you understand that?”
A shudder runs through me.
“You don’t need to be afraid of me as long as you don’t betray me, Scarlett.”
“I’m not afraid of you. Not anymore.”
“Hm.” He heard my lie but he’s distracted. I realize why a moment later when he releases me to take his phone out of his pocket. It must be a text because he doesn’t put it to his ear but swipes the screen instead. Whatever he sees makes his eyes narrow, his jaw tense.
“What is it?” I ask.
He types something, the line between his eyebrows growing deeper as he does, then returns his gaze to me as he pockets the phone.
I swallow, his electric blue eyes too intense, too intent on me.
“Do you understand me, Scarlett?” he asks, picking up our conversation like we weren’t just interrupted.
I nod.
Because if there’s one thing I understand clearly, it’s that I do not want to make an enemy of this man.