Page 27 of Pretty Little Threats

“Two,” he says, shoulders tightening.

My stomach bottoms out. He just might kill me. “Marry me.”

Dare’s jaw tenses as he searches my face. Three beats pass before he tosses his head back and laughs. The sound is somehow deadly and carefree at the same time. Like I surprised him in the worst of ways, but he’s enjoying the show I’m putting on.

“It’s notthatfunny,” I grumble a second later.

Finally, he sets the gun on the bedside table, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his legs, staringstraight through my soul. “The princess and the beast, huh?”

It sounds like a fairy tale when he says it like that, but there’s no magic here. No dancing teacups, and clearly no love to be had. This is all about survival.

“Marry me,” I say again, taking another step toward him. “And nothing bad will happen to Frank’s Bakery.” For two breaths, I swear he’s about to start laughing again, but then something like morbid curiosity flashes over his face.

Intriguing the beast might be worse than annoying him.

“Why?” he asks.

“Why what?”

“Why me?”

My forehead wrinkles. “Does it matter?”

“What about Eric?”

“I’m not marrying that asshole,” I snarl.

Dare stands.

I stiffen.

A wolfish grin stretches across his face, and he takes a measured step. Instinct has me moving away, pulse thundering and stomach flipping.

He steps again and so do I.

Heartbeat by heartbeat.

Steady breath by trembling breath.

One by one, until my back hits the wall and he’s a foot away from me. The palms of my hands press against the wall.

Dare is so tall, I have to tip my head back to hold his gaze. The air between us is electric, raising the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck, shooting adrenaline through my system.Run, Rose. Run.But I can’t. I need him to agree.Unless I flee the country, this deal is my only way out of the marriage to Eric.

Those brown eyes bore into me. It’s silly, but with that one look alone, I swear he can see the worst of my secrets, see the desperation. His nostrils flare ever so slightly, scenting the prey before him. He closes the distance between us.

My heart skips. I jump as one of his forearms slams above my head. His knee pushes between my legs. At first, I fight him, keeping them firmly clamped shut, but his answering glare has me relenting, and I open them, allowing his muscled thigh to slip between my legs and press against my core.

The vagina approves. The woman is annoyed that the vagina approves.

Fingers ghost down my cheek and grip my chin. Pulse racing, stomach fluttering somewhere between fright and excitement, I scowl at him.

“Marry you, huh?” he asks.

“Yes,” I rasp.

His gaze dips to my lips. “And what’s in it for me?”

My core clenches. I lick my lips, shoving aside those wanton thoughts. “Money. Power.”

---