Page 56 of Ruthless Savior
My cheeks flush hot, and I feel that same tension suddenly vibrating through me. "You mean we'd have to..."
"Have sex.” His voice is flat, carefully so, as if he’s trying not to betray anything he’s thinking. “If we didn't, if anyone found out the marriage was never consummated, it could be annulled. And then you'd lose all protections."
The room suddenly feels too small, the air too thin. He's asking me to marry him—temporarily—and to sleep with him to make it believable.
"How long?" I manage to ask. My throat feels tight. My body is humming. I should be thinking about what it would mean to say yes to this, what my options are, but all I can think about is Ronan’s body up against mine in the library, his lips on mine, his fingers touching my chin. Of how he felt against my body, hard and wanting.
His voice cuts through my thoughts, and I’m glad the fire gives me an excuse for how red my cheeks feel. "I don't know. Months, maybe. However long it takes to eliminate Rocco and ensure your safety."
"Months of pretending to be your wife."
He draws in a breath. "Months of being my wife."
The distinction hits me like a slap. This wouldn't be pretend, not really. It would be real in every way that matters, at least until it wasn't anymore. The only thing that wouldn’t be there is love. But I suspect that’s not much of a consideration in his world.
“I—” I squeeze my hands into fists against my thighs. “I need to think about this.”
“Of course. But Leila—” He looks at me intensely as I stand up unsteadily. "We don't have much time. My father meant what he said about two days. Before that time is up, a ring needs to be on your finger and betrothal papers signed in front of a priest." Ronan pauses. “I need to know by the morning. The priest already won’t like how quick it is, but I’ll make a large donation to the church, and he’ll do as I ask.”
Money. More money. So much of it paving Ronan’s way to whatever he wants. To my mother’s comfort, to my protection, to a future where I could do whatever I want just by agreeing to do this his way.
And really, what other way is there?
But I still need to think. I can’t make another desperate decision and have it turn out to be a huge mistake.
I bite my lip. "And if I say no?"
"Then we'll figure something else out. But this is our best option, Leila. Maybe our only option."
I nod, not trusting my voice to remain steady. "I'll let you know tomorrow." I turn to go, and I hear his voice behind me, low and rough.
"Leila, wait."
I pause with my hand on the doorknob.
"Whatever you decide, I want you to know that I'll keep you safe. You have my word."
There's something in his voice, something raw that makes my chest ache. Somewhere along the way, this has become personal for him.
I have a feeling it has something to do with this mysterious wife.
A wife he clearly doesn’t want me to know about, even when I’m on the verge of possibly becoming his.
My mind is spinning as I walk back up to my room.Marriage. I hadn’t even really thought about the word before this. My life hasn’t even involved dating, let alone marriage. I’ve been focused on myself. On college, on my career. I was just about to get started dipping my toe into the waters of hookups and dates and finding a relationship. I hadn’t even begun to question if I really wanted to get married someday. Possibly, yes… but that meant finding the right person, and that felt very far off.
Now a mafia boss has asked me to be his wife. To protect me. Another way to keep me safe—maybe the only way, according to him.
A mafia boss who had another wife. Something happened to her, and I don’t know what.
I should have asked him. Should have told him that I knew, told him that I needed the truth before I agreed to be his second wife.
I’m not entirely sure why I didn’t, except… some part of me doesn’t think he’s keeping it a secret for a nefarious reason. I think he hasn’t told me because he’s hurting, and he can’t be that vulnerable with me.
Not when he’s been trying to push me away.
The irony of all of this isn't lost on me. A few months ago, I was desperate enough to take money from a loan shark to save my mother. Now I'm being offered marriage to one of the most powerful men in Boston's underworld.
It should terrify me. And it does, on one level. But there's another part of me, a part I don't want to examine too closely, that's intrigued by the possibility. I think about the kiss we shared, the electricity that sparked between us, the way he pulled away like I'd burned him.
