Page 97 of Dangerous Strokes

He narrows his eyes, yet he appears confused.

“Do you want to marry me because I’m pregnant?” I add hesitantly.

The slight quirk on his lips throws me off. I’m uneasy in a strange kind of way.

“Yes and no,” he says, and I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel about that.

“What does that even mean? And why the hell are you smiling?” I try to pull away from him, but he holds me so tight, my efforts are futile.

“Yes, because I thought the sense of a traditional family was lost on me. I thought I had that modern way of thinking, where families didn’t have to be connected by a piece of paper to be just that. But it turns out, I’m more traditional than I thought. By law, our child will have my name, even if double barreled, but I want you to have it too.”

I ponder his words, trying to figure out if I agree.

“And no,” he continues, “because the idea of marrying you, of making you mine in the most official way I can think of, does something extraordinary to my fucking soul. Don’t distract yourself with futile insecurities about your pregnancy, because it doesn’t change the fact that you want me as much as I want you.” He captures my chin between his fingers, the touch endearing, possessive… loving, “I wanna be yours, Annika.”

My lips part in surprise because I’m not sure if I should react to his presumptuousness or the way he called me out on my feelings. Our story started with obsession—mine—after barely seeing him in a photo. Truth is… I’m pretty sure I want him more than he’ll ever want me. I want his blue eyes on me, his hands touching every part of me, his lips on my skin sending shivers to my core, and his filthy words in my ears jolting my damn soul. I want to consume him. Every loving caress, every sweet declaration, every little thing he does to take care of me, they all add onto the need, the pure hunger I have for this man.

A wicked grin pulls at my eyes, and then he mirrors it, before he speaks again.

“Marry me, Annika.”

CHAPTER 22

ANNIKA

This last month since Ronanproposed to me, or… told me to marry him, a fact that made my mom giggle when I told her, has been an absolute whirlwind. Not just because we decided to get married in only a month, but because I had to navigate the treacherous waters that is my former job, Ronan’s job, a kidnapping, death, pregnancy, and engagement in the context of my oblivious parents.

They are normal people—well, most might not call my mom normal—but in comparison to the general society, they are. Organized crime, forgeries, dealings on the dark web, kidnapping in a human trafficking ring, and the brutal death of my best friend, are things they only ever read about on the internet or listened about in a true crime podcast. Which meant I had to make sure they didn’t hear any of this from us. I did, however, have to offer some sort of explanation regarding my best-friend’s death, and a horrible car accident was the most pertinent, realistic option.

They were upset I didn’t tell them, because they would have come to the funeral, but they seemed to accept my explanation about being in such shock and upset that I struggled to even plan the thing. In reality, the aftermath of Bartiste’s disappearance was still being sorted through, and there was no way I was going to risk exposing them to that.

Nonetheless, my surprise engagement when they weren’t even aware of my relationship, was met with mixed feelings. Quite literally. Because my free-spirited mother went mad with joy, singing and jumping around the house on the videocall, while my father looked at me with a scowl bunching his bushy eyebrows, before proceeding to grill me about him and us.

I anticipated this. What he didn’t know was that I wrote down potential questions and answers and had them in front of me the whole time. Ronan couldn’t stop laughing when he saw me taking notes, telling me he couldn’t believe I needed a cheat-sheet to talk to my parents. He quickly shut up and asked for a copy when I reminded him that he has parents too, and he might not want to tell them the real circumstances of our love story. Which meant that our stories had to match.

His parents are not totally oblivious, though. They don’t have clean hands, that’s for sure, but they deal more in real estate and dicey deals. Or used to, anyway. Either way, they are not in the know about all their kids’ activities, which is a choice they made and one that Ronan and Finnigan pushed on them, just for security reasons. So, the cheat-sheet will be very useful for him too.

My father seemed content with my answers, and considering the look on his chubby face right now, as he stands in the doorway of the bedroom, seeing me for the first time in my wedding dress, I would say he’s definitely warming up to my situation. He had a long talk with Ronan too, after arriving at the penthouse, and he seemed happy afterwards.

“Oh, Anni.” He takes a step in, looking me up and down with such emotion, he’s making me emotional too. “You’re beautiful. You always are, but… it’s the happiness in your eyes that’s making you even more beautiful now.”

“Thank you, Pappa.” I get up from the chair and walk straight into his arms. His hugs always felt like more, like a protective, love-filled cocoon, and as a child, I used to force him to hug me until I fell asleep.

He kisses the top of my head and tightens his hold one last time.

“I don’t want to ruin your makeup or your hair,” he tells me as he pulls away.

“Don’t worry.”

I wipe my ring fingers under my eyes, turning back to look in the mirror. I haven’t smudged the light mascara. The delicate, simple makeup is very much in place, and the tiny flowers weaved through the loose fishtail braid Katya did for me are still there.

“You look perfect.”

I turn back around, smiling at him. I don’t know if I do, but I love this dress. It’s perfect for our beach ceremony. I’m grateful we live in a subtropical climate, because otherwise I couldn’t wear this dress in December. It’s long enough that it touches the tops of my wedge sandals, but not too long that I’ll drag it through the sand. It’s light and flowy, the A-line skirt topped with a few layers of soft tulle, giving it a delicate quality. It will flow beautifully in the sea breeze. I hook my fingers under the thin straps, making sure they’re in the right place, drag my fingers over the delicate sparkles lining the top of the bodice, checking that the deep V-neck isn’t slipping around, and take one long, deep breath.

If Hanna was here, she would be running around like a busy bee, making sure everything is perfect, in the right place. She would insist on checking my dress herself, retouching my makeup every five minutes. She would be a whirlwind.

Her absence is the reason why I didn’t assign the role of maid of honor. It’s also why Katya tried hard to refuse the bridesmaid role… knowing full well she would be the only one. She only accepted because she insisted on helping me with the wedding, so she was already doing thejob.The woman has been everything I never asked for. Whatever free time she had, she used to help me. Granted, we’re keeping our wedding very simple and small, so not that many preparations were needed anyway.

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