Page 184 of Captive Ruin

“I thought you bribed him?”

“I did. I shouldn’t have bribed him either.” His brow furrows. “I wanted to be sure you’d marry me. I thought…”

The silence lingers after he’s trailed off.

“Yes?” I prompt, eventually.

“…I thought you wanted to,” he adds. “Hoped you wanted to. I’m… sorry that you didn’t.” He winces. “Don’t.”

I press my lips thin. I can’t bring myself to admit that part of me did want to marry him, ridiculously early as it was. Hell, if he’d only courted me the traditional way—more flowers, less break-ins—I’d have been head-over-heels and grabbed him before he changed his mind.

But that’s not what happened.

“It was difficult agreeing to marry a man who has only ever coerced and forced me.”

He swallows. “I… wasn’t always like that.”

“So what, I just bring the worst out of you?” I shake my head in dismay. “Great.”

“No.” He leans forward in his chair. “No. You bring the best out of me.”

“Terraces, concealed cameras, and being cuffed to my bed are your best? Then you have a funny way of showing it.”

He closes his eyes as if in pain. “I can do better. I will do better.”

He sounds so desperate, and I hate hearing that note from him.

“Then prove it,” I find myself saying.

Wait. Am I throwing him a bone? Did I mean to do that?

I almost retract it, but his eyes light up with hope. “I will,” he says earnestly. “Anything you want.”

“So you said in Montana,” I mutter.

He nods. “And you’re stronger now. Are you… feeling recovered?”

There it is: the tiptoeing.

“I’m fine.”

“Fine… good fine, or fine as in… just okay? Or not fine? Or—”

It’s my turn to cut him off. “Fine. As in good enough.”

“All right,” he says slowly. “Then it’ll be my job to make ‘good enough’ into ‘great.’ Will you give me that chance?”

I look away. Part of me is tempted, I have to admit. The things he’s said, the effort he’s making. I’m drawn to him; I accept that. It’s not healthy, it’s dangerous. He’s a dark fantasy, but while part of me can’t seem to resist his allure, a fantasy like this should never become real.

What do we have between us? A relationship? No, unless it’s of captor and captive. A marriage? That’s a joke. We’re not friends, we’re not even lovers—being pinned down doesn’t count. We can’t be enemies; he’d destroy me. There’s been too much between us for there to be nothing. I’m out of labels.

And out of choices.

“I… can’t,” I say slowly.

He swallows hard, throat constricting. “May I understand why?”

“Your life is too… violent.”