Page 71 of Trapped

“I didn’t feel for you then the way I do now.”

“You act like your intentions are pure when they’ve been anything but.”

“I never said they were. I said that they changed.”

My cheeks burned. “How?”

He shrugged, taking another step closer. “People change their minds. It’s nothing to be scared about.”

“How did they change? We don’t do anything together. We barely talk. All we do is have sex.”

“I’ll take you out more. I promise.”

I sighed. “Why do you think we’d be good together?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured. “I haven’t put a lot of thought into why. It feels right. That’s enough for me.”

“It feels right?”

“Yeah. That’s what I said.”

“How do you know that?”

He seemed annoyed with the questions. “I bought a ring two weeks ago.”

My heart pounded. “You’re kidding.”

He reached into his jacket pocket. Slowly, he produced a small, black box and opened it with his thumb. A ring with the biggest diamond I’d ever seen winked inside. I barely glimpsed it before he snapped the lid shut, stuffing it back inside his jacket.

He bought a ring. For me.

I kept glancing at where the ring had disappeared, certain I’d imagined it.

“Delilah, I’m not the type to kneel. I’m also not one for big speeches, but I want you. That’s all I’ve known for the past two months. I always want you.”

His words stirred something deep within me, a flicker of hope I smothered. Just because he bought a ring didn’t mean he was inlovewith me.

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching. “It’s not just about what I want, though. You need stability. I can provide that.”

His words engulfed me in frigid water. I frowned, the idyllic setting of the vineyard suddenly less enchanting. “You make it sound like a transaction.”

“It can be both. You get the support you need, and I—well, I get to keep you.”

It wasn’t the declaration of love I’d dreamed about as a girl when I still clung to fantasies. It sounded like a strategy.

“And if I say no?”

He studied me, his gaze unwavering. “I’ll convince you.”

His confidence shook me. He predicted us getting married as though he’d already seen me walking down the aisle to him. That would’ve been sweet if it weren’t for his delivery.I’ll convince you. My heart sank. It wasn’t the plea of a lover but the strategy of a tactician.

“You’re assuming a lot,” I murmured.

“No, I’m betting on us.”

My cheeks flushed. “You make it sound so clinical.”

“Isn’t a strategy to keep you by my side better than me going down on one knee?”

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