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Once the young man nods, makes an about-face, and vanishes, I jostle Briar, press the knife more solidly against her throat, and sneer. “Are you entirely oblivious to the position I have you in?”
Her eyes roll. “Weapons aren’t used for threats, pet. If you were going to hurt me, you already would have. You have no backup. You can’t overpower anyone here with just a knife. Hurting me would only make everyone mad. And since you’re incredibly outnumbered, hurting me is a death wish. My boys understand that intrinsically, so you just look stupid.” She covers her face with both hands. “Honestly? You’re so embarrassing.”
Embarrassing? Embarrassing? What is wrong with this woman? Swinging around, I set her on her feet, grip her chin, and growl, “You are getting on my last nerve.”
Her lashes flutter. “That didn’t take long. Are you sure? You have over seven trillion of them.”
Releasing a low sound in my throat, I grab her hand and drag her behind me. She trips after my strides, the click of her boots hitting the tile at a more frantic pace than the steady pounds of mine.
“It’s okay,” she calls. “I understand this is a very frustrating situation. You’re not used to when things don’t go your way, and that results in some big feelings.”
“Don’t psychoanalyze me.”
“I’m actually gentle parenting yo—” Her high-pitch squeak stops me in my tracks, and I whirl to find her kneeling, glaring dully up at me as she puts her weight on my arm to make it seem like she fell.
I believe I might scream. Lips pursing, I mutter, “What are you doing?”
“Proving that you’re too nice.” She rises, squeezes my hand, and steps in close. “You can’t fool me, pet. I know what real bad men look like, and you aren’t one of them. Give me one reason why you shouldn’t pretend to date me with the intention to marry. Don’t I have enough assets to be of use?”
My eyes fall across her assets, and I wince as I drag my attention off her figure. “I’m not interested in the façade of a relationship. Nor do I have the energy to maintain a real one.”
She tilts her head. “Trust me, I get it. In this line of work, relationships are messy. People you trust, people you took oaths beside, betray you for promises of more power or more money. You’re sleeping with one eye open and constantly checking behind your back.” Her fingers lace with mine, and a feline grin lifts the pale freckles across her cheeks. “Except, of course, when you think the only person behind your back is a young woman in a frilly dress.”
A vein in my forehead pulses. “Listen up, princess—”
“Listen. You say that a lot. Are you not used to being heard?”
My eyes close. I free a tight breath. “You’re obviously spoiled and clearly aren’t used to being told no.”
Her free hand lands on my chest. “Spoiled?”
“Entirely.”
“I’m spoiled?”
I meet her large blue eyes. “Is this really a shock to you?”
She beams, swinging my hand, “Oh, no. I’m fully aware. It’s one of my many, many, many charms.”
For several long moments, I watch her, tracing the shape of her lips, her face, the slight hood to her eyes. For several blissful seconds, she’s just beautiful. Not crazy. Not irritating. Not a woman who jumped on me, choked me, then drugged me and dragged me away from home in the middle of the night. She’s just…pretty.
Back home, there aren’t any unattached women. Every wife and daughter is off-limits—according to the oaths every made man takes when he joins. My childhood left no space for intimate exploration. The things I saw happening to women who weren’t our wives and daughters but who were somebody’s made me ill, and I never got my mind around the difference of why some women were precious enough to be protected, and others weren’t.
Now that I’ve taken over the business, all I do is train and research and initiate and handle meetings and give orders and try to remind everyone that I’m not my parents’ battered son. I am invincible. Numb to all the pain of torture I can deliver as though I don’t have a soul.
My mother is the only woman I have anything resembling a relationship with.
And she is the furthest thing from the beautiful, bubbly, and threateningly gentle woman standing in front of me now.
I have no mental preparation to even act out a relationship, for any reason.
Yet, when Briar loses all her hubris, my chest feels as though my father has just broken my ribs.
“Please, Rowan. I need to find my parents,” she says, voice soft. “Please. I can’t do it alone.”
It hurts to breathe. “I thought you had substantial connections.”
“My family’s connections get us far enough with information, but when it comes to application, it’s like you said. No one fears Rosanera. Not like they fear Veleno.”
