Page 166 of Marrying the Savage

I cross my arms, mostly so he can’t see my hands shake. “You make it sound like I am property.”

“No. I make it sound like you are important to a dangerous man, which is true. For better or for worse, you’re struck with him. Moving you out of the city would be dangerous too.”

I swallow. I hadn’t thought so far ahead. But that’s the reason I’m here.

The club is quiet beneath us. Too quiet. After the gallery, the silence feels unreal.

“What do you want from me?” I ask.

Arman studies me for a moment. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

I look back at him. He sits in one of the chairs but leaves the sofa for me, a clear little gesture meant to make the room feel less like an interrogation. I appreciate it and resent needing to appreciate it.

“My cousin said you needed help,” he says. “So tell me what kind of help. Are you trying to disappear? Are you trying to get to your uncle? Because every one of those answers creates a different problem, and some of them are much worse than others.”

“Not my uncle,” I say immediately.

He rubs his chin thoughtfully.

“I don’t know what I want,” I admit.

“That is honest, but not useful.”

“I know.”

“You asked Anya for help leaving Damir’s house.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Because I don’t know whether I’m his wife, his prisoner, his mistake, or his new obsession. Because I want him so much that it scares me.

I say none of that.

Instead, I say, “I needed to breathe.”

Arman doesn’t mock me. That helps.

“I can give you a few hours,” he says. “Maybe the night if we move carefully. I can put you in a private room, and give you the safety you need.”

“And if Damir comes?”

“He will.”

The certainty makes my stomach drop.

Arman continues, “The question is when, and how much damage he causes before he gets here.”

I look down at Damir’s jacket wrapped around me. My fingers curl into the sleeve. “What if I don’t want to see him?”

“Then I will try to delay him.”

“Can you?”

“For a while.”

“How long?”