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I shrug. "Your father can bring your things. My main concern is getting you home without causing a scene."

Her eyebrows lift, and she crosses her arms over her chest. "So, you're telling me that you're kidnapping me? You don't think that's illegal?"

"It's not kidnapping," I correct her. "You're going to come willingly, aren't you?"

She barks a laugh. "No!"

"Even if it saves your father's businesses?"

"No. He dug his own grave with that one."

"Hm." She isn't wrong, but that's something between her and her father. She's mine now, and there's no escaping it. Maybe I can make her new predicament seem a little less horrific, though. "What if I tell you that it's temporary? You only have to be my wife for a short time, and when it's over, you're free to go."

She looks at me suspiciously. "How long is 'temporary’?"

I think for a moment. Telling her the truth means I have to reckon with my father's mortality, and I'm just not up for that tonight. "Two years max."

Maria blinks. "Two years?"

"Two years," I confirm. "And your father's debt is erased. Plus, you won't have to worry about any sort of bills, rent, or anything else."

Maria seems to consider it for a moment, and then she says simply, "No."

My hands tighten on the steering wheel. "All right, let me phrase this another way. You're marrying me. There's no getting out of it. We can be cordial to each other, or you can approach the altar kicking and screaming, but the outcome is going to be the same. I can make this good for you, Maria, or I can treat you like a prisoner. Your choice."

She blinks at me, and I can see the fury building behind those pretty blue eyes of hers. I don't blame her for being pissed off, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let her ruin my plans. This marriage is going to happen whether she likes it or not, and if I have to be the bad guy to get her down that aisle, then so be it.

"Fine," she snaps, "but also, fuck you. Why do you even need a wife, anyway? What's in it for you?"

I chuckle. "Only my friends get to know my secrets. Are you ready to be friends, Maria?"

"No."

"Then it's none of your damn business. Hey, if you're cold, the seats have heaters."

"Fuck you."

This time, I actually laugh. "Yeah, I know. Fuck me is right."

Maria continuesto not make things easy for me when we get back to my family estate by the lake, but I can tell she's calmed down some. Still, I make sure the security system will alert me if she tries to sneakout a window in the middle of the night. Maria De Luca isn't a petulant teenager, though. I think now that she isn't at the spitting mad stage, she can see the sense of my offer.

And the futility of trying to get out of it.

I've lived here all my life, so I've grown immune to how it must look to people seeing the place for the first time. Maria, as mad as she is, still lets out a small, "woah" when we pull up. There's a security gate, the entryway with huge stone columns on either side, and a drive that circles the rose garden in the center of the front yard. The house itself is three stories, made of white stone, with tall windows and an expansive balcony that looks out over the lake. There's a gazebo down by the water, and the yard stretches on for acres in either direction. My mother would have loved to fill the house with children, but things just never panned out. Now it's all on my shoulders to continue the family … or at least pretend to while Pops is still alive.

"It's even more impressive during the day," I tell her.

"I bet," she grumbles.

I get her settled in one of the guest rooms, throwing her a pair of my sweats when she complains about having nothing to wear but her wet clothing. My estate is in Evanston, just outside of Chicago, and it wouldn't take long to get her things, but I'm not in the mood to risk her trying to flee if we're in public.

Plus, I have something else I have to do before I can rest tonight.

Maria lingers in the doorway of the bedroom, one damp curl falling over her cheek, tempting me to reach out and touch it. I don't, but I also don't leave right away, looking down at the woman who will be my wife in a matter of days.

"I'll make this good for you," I tell her, and Maria flushes bright red. It takes me a second to realize how sexual that must have sounded, but instead of apologizing, I bend down enough to brush my lips over herblushing cheek before stepping back. That should give her a little something to think about tonight. "Goodnight, Maria."

I don't look back, but I can hear that it takes her several seconds to close the door behind her. It's good to know she's just as affected by our strange connection as I am. Maybe I can use that to my advantage in the coming days … if she doesn't figure out how to first.

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