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“No, you’re wrong. He wasn’t like that. My father was a legitimate businessman. He didn’t hang out with criminals. The trial never mentioned any criminal ties. I mean,” she swallows hard but owns up to the truth—the only truth she knows. “I know what he did wasn’t right… but he wouldn’t have…”
“He worked with anyone who would pay. Maybe he started clean, but in the end, he was as dirty as everyone else in this business. Worse, because he got greedy. He took from the wrong people. The Silvio family won’t stop until they collect. Only they don’t want more money. He’s paid the money back and the interest. They want you.”
Jeniah’s mouth rounds, and color drains from her face. “Me?” she whispers, small and shaken. “No, that’s not true. I don’tbelieve you. I don’t know you from Adam. My father never mentioned…”
Her brows furrow, the wheels spinning in her mind. I wait. I imagine she’s replaying every interaction. Every unexplained absence, every secretive, late-night phone call. While I let her work it out, I unbutton my damp coat and let my eyes follow the smooth line of her rounded cheeks. I thought she was small, but no, she’s just short. She doesn’t even reach my shoulder but makes up for height with curves in all the right places. Her brown eyes sparkle in the low light like stars shimmering on an indigo night. Her cheeks curve into an almost elven chin that gives her face the same heart shape that actresses would kill for. I dip down and then away from the dark berry nipples revealed by her sodden shirt. She’s wet from me. I wonder what she’d be like wetbecauseof me. I jerk my eyes back up and grimace when they meet hers.Busted.
“Even if I believed what you say,” she pulls a lip between her teeth and bites down. “What can you do about it?”
“Marry you.”
She bucks off the couch. Her eyes darting around again as if searching for a weapon to replace her phone. I don’t move. I don’t want to scare her, and shit, marriage is scary as fuck. So, I give her time to wrap her mind around it. Lord knows I needed time. She shakes her head. “No. That’s insane.”
“I agree. So it looks like you and I will be residents in the asylum, because this is happening. Doesn’t matter what you and I think or want.” I shrug, leaning back on the couch and tapping myfingers on the arm. “My family is influential… powerful. Once you become a Gataki—”
“—that will not happen.”
“I wasn’t asking for your permission,” I snap as my patience frays. “Do you think this is a game? It’s not. The wolves are circling, Jeniah. They know you’re alone. You’re lucky you survived this long.”
“You think they’ll kill me?”
“No.” She exhales. Relief? “I think death would be a mercy they won’t give.”
“I… I can’t marry you.” Her voice lowers, but her eyes look hunted. A wide-eyed deer staring down a roaring semi-truck. “It’s not..” Her words cut through the air like glass shattering again. “You don’t understand. I’ve lived here my whole life… I can’t just leave. I don’t want to be a pawn or a debt payment.”
“You’re not. Marrying you is about keeping you safe.”
“Safe?” she says, disbelief etched in every line of her face. “Taking away my choice—my home?”
“Your fatherchosefor you when he stole from Al Silvio,” I say, my voice rising. “If you believe the Silvios give second chances, you’re wrong. They’ll make an example of you because they can.” I hate what I’m saying, but she’s talking about choices like she has one. “The Silvios will use you until there’s nothing left, and laugh. Destroy your body—your mind and fuckingcelebrate.They’ll document every depraved thing they do to you and play it for your father on an endless loop.”
She crosses her arms, still assuming she’ll have a choice. “I’ll run away. I’ll hide. No one will know where I am. I refuse to be intimidated into a decision that forces me to marry a man who appeared in the middle of the night. A man I’ve never met, never even heard my father mention. Even if I went along with this lunacy—how will tying my life to yours be any less humbling?”
“I would never debase you. Never take more than you’re willing to give freely.” I know what I’m asking. So, I vow—even though she doesn’t know my word is sacred. “I swear, the last thing I’d ever do is hurt you.”
“So you’d bind yourself to a sexless marriage? Why would you do that? Unless you expect to keep a woman on the side—my father always did.”
I pause, my fingers threading through my hair in frustration. “No. Neither of us would have an outside lover.” My tone softens, regret seeping into my voice. “I’d hope that one day we’d oryou’dfeel comfortable enough to commit to our relationship physically. I know in the U.S., it’s uncommon, but in other parts of the world, arranged marriages happen every day. My great-grandparents had an arranged marriage.”
“They probablywantedto be arranged. This is very different. You’re already forcing me to do something I don’t want. Something I’m not even sure my father wants. I have nothing but your word on that—on any of this.”
“Jeniah, why would I lie?” Her brows pinch together, but I don’t push her. “We’ll see your father tomorrow and he’ll confirmevery word. God knows I don’t want to be here either.”
“Then why are you?” She challenges me with a stare, fierce and unyielding.
“Because—” I hesitate, struggling to find the right words. This isn’t just about my family’s pressure. Not anymore.It’s her.She called the situation crazy—and she’s right. But the craziest part is how I want to protect her—save her from every harm. I’m captivated by the way her eyes light up, her shoulders roll back, and her fists lift in the face of terror. I’ve been alone and scared.Was I brave? In the middle of the night, when my demons wake me up—am I fighting them or running away?
“Because,” I continue, my voice firming with conviction, “you deserve protection, whether you want it or not. You won’t be able to run fast or far enough. Even if you did, you’d spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder.” I lean in, my breath caressing her ear, relishing the subtle tremor that passes through her body. “Marry me and all that goes away. I protect what’s mine.”
A moment passes where her eyes plead with mine, a silent plea for mercy or understanding, perhaps both. Then her jaw sets, and her lips press into a flat line. “I told you—I won’t be forced into anything.”
“This isn’t about being forced, Jeniah. It’s about survival.”
“And what about my life here?”
“What life,” I growl. “You live alone in a house that smells like sickness and death despite the cleanser and air freshener. This scent is something you can’t wipe away. It clings to you. Sadness hangs on you like a shroud.” I shake my head at her widenedeyes. “You don’t have a life.” Her head whips back as if I’ve slapped her. But I don’t stop. I need to break her resistance. If I don’t, they will. “Where’s your cat? You must have one. Because that’s what you’ve become. An old, lonely cat lady, and you’re not even twenty-five. You don’t have any friends to save you. No boyfriend—no job. At least not a real one. You work virtually and probably love it because your whole life is virtual. You watch people from the inside. Only this old house isn’t safe enough—not anymore. Not when the Silvios come.”
Jeniah sits stony-faced, and I can almost taste her emotions—frustration and resistance. Closing my eyes, I take a moment to control my own.
