Page 114 of Captive Ruin

“A marriage of convenience.” I laugh bitterly. Who still does that?

He inclines his head. “If it helps.”

I bite my lip, thinking of my sister unaware of all of this, and completely unprotected. Thinking of myself, locked in this gilded prison.

“How long?” I need to know before I agree.

“In two weeks,” he says.

Shit. That’s fast.

“That’s not what I meant,” I say, my voice sounding distant in my own ears. “How long will we need to be married for?”

“It won’t be a sham.” He says it like the idea offends him. “Make no mistake, Amelia. You’ll be wearing my ring, using my last name, and taking my cock for the rest of your life.”

I stare at him, desperately trying to think of something to say, and not focusing on what he plans to do with his cock.

“That’s ludicrous,” I blurt, but the word isn’t strong enough. “I’ve known you four weeks, and you’ve been away half of that time.”

“So we’ve been together two. Long enough.”

“Long enough?” My eyebrows go up. “Been together? Is that what you call it when you break into my apartment and chain me to my bed?”

He stands up, prowling toward me. I take a pace back, swallowing hard. He keeps coming, and I hit the table behind me, hemmed in against it.

“I know everything I need to know,” he says softly. “I’m taking you as my wife.”

Why can I only focus on taking you? I swallow, my mouth dry.

He leans in, his chest inches from mine, and I can’t look away. “This is the only choice,” he says. “The only way to ensure you and your sister are protected.”

“Is that why you’re doing it?” I ask, voice tight. “For us?”

“Every marriage is a balance.” His hand closes gently around my throat, and I shiver at the touch. His thumb presses beneath my chin, pushing it up. Is he going to kiss me? “You need a protector, and I need a wife.”

He’s already had one, and I still don’t know what happened to her. “What for?”

“Someone to hold at night,” he murmurs.

He’s so close, our breath is mingling. His subtle cologne drifts over me, sandalwood and bergamot. Beneath lies the scent of our sex and the sharp metallic tang of his blood.

“What about happiness?” I ask desperately. “Doesn’t that matter?”

“Yes, but your life matters more. So does your sister’s.” His head tilts as he regards me. “Will you choose what’s most important?”

My hands are gripping the table behind me so hard that my fingers ache. I need that pain, only wishing it was stronger. He’s inches away, his blood on my robe, his breath on my cheek, and I look at him. Really look at him. The stubble, the dark stain on his black shirt, the steadiness of those steel-grey eyes, and I think of Lucy, of the terrace, and his name on my lips in the dark.

“I… will.” We both know what I’m really agreeing to.

He grins at me, natural and open. There are even dimples. I’ve never seen them before, and they’re kind of cute. “I’m getting married,” he says. “I couldn’t be happier.”

Then he pulls me against him, and his mouth finds mine.

Twenty-Seven

Lukas

“That’s fantastic news,” Bastien says over the phone. “I’ll fly down.”