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“Tia, you don’t have a choice. Marry me or die.”
Marry him or die.
My heart slams wildly in my chest.
I will marry him.
I sigh, closing my eyes for a second to shut out the intensity of his stare.
It’s distracting me, making me think about kissing him, and I need my thoughts to be clear right now.
I take a long, deep, slow breath.
When I open my eyes, I feel more confident.
“I will marry you.” His brows shoot up, his lips curve into a gorgeous smile. “Under one condition, Yefim.”
He tilts his head to the side, amusement playing across his face as he waits to hear what my condition is.
“Go ahead,” he encourages me.
“I will marry you, and we can both benefit from it. But as soon as you have earned enough of a reputation as a ‘good family man’ and I have paid off my debts, we will end the marriage.When I’m safe, and my debts are cleared, we both walk away from the marriage without argument.”
He runs his tongue over his teeth, sucking in his cheeks, processing my condition. It seems fair. He’s not marrying me for love. He’s getting something out of this, as am I, but once we have those things, there’s no reason to prolong the awkward situation of being bound to someone your heart isn’t set on.
“So you are planning our divorce before we’ve even exchanged our vows?” he chuckles with amusement.
“Yes,” I say seriously. I’m not joking. I’m not playing. If I agree to this, I want to know that I have a safe escape afterwards.
“Alright. I accept your condition.” He nods.
His body is so close to mine that the heat from his skin is seeping into me.
His eyes are distracting me again.
Fuck.
He’s so gorgeous.
Am I really going to marry this man?
This criminal mafia boss.
What am I getting myself into?
He holds his hand out and I stare at it in confusion for a moment.
“The correct thing to do after coming to an agreement is to shake on it,” he laughs deeply.
Oh.
I slip my hand into his, and as his massive hand wraps around mine, I feel small and weak. We shake and nod, sealing our arrangement.
I am going to marry him.
His sleeves are rolled up over his forearms, and the muscles and tendons ripple across his skin as he shakes my hand. My eyes trail up his arm, across his broad shoulders, up his thick corded neck, his square jaw, the shadow of dark stubble, his sharp blue eyes.
He leans closer to me, still holding my hand, pulling me against him.
