Chapter 17: : Chapter 17

The unfortunate man who thought he could provoke my property gets dragged out. We continue to eat as she stares at me with that less-than-grateful expression. Taking a sip of my wine, I lean back and take her in.

“What do you want from me?” she asks.

“I want you to marry me,” I say matter-of-factly.

She scoffs, and it looks as if she’s about to laugh until she notices the serious expression on my face.

“Marry you?” She shakes her head in disbelief. “That’s definitely never going to happen.” She goes to stand, and I tap the table twice.

“You’ll sit down if you ever want to see those guns again,” I say curtly. She freezes as if suddenly remembering why she came here in the first place.

She reluctantly lowers back on the chair.

When Hawke first suggested the idea that I marry her, the others thought he was an idiot. And although I don’t disagree with them about that most of the time, this might be his greatest idea. It’s so crazy; it might work. This little tigress might be the answer I’ve been looking for all along. I can keep her close, flush out her client, and inherit my family business all at the same time.

The kingdom will finally be mine. And I’ll decide how to deal with my new wife afterward.

Punish her. Definitely punish her.

“I don’t want to marry you. I don’t even like you,” she scoffs.

“That’s perfectly fine; you just have to pretend you do around my family.”

“Your family?” she chokes out.

“Did I stutter? Yes, my family.”

“Are you that out of your fucking mind? I’m the person who, at any moment, is going to kill you. I don’t like being in the same room as you, let alone marry you. How about we agree I make your death quick, and in return, you give me my guns back now.”

Her attempt at negotiation is amusing, and I try not to smile. Jewel is one of few who can actually keep me entertained. Her quick wit is attractive, and her delusion of having any control of this situation is… cute.

Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a box, then slide it across the table to her. She immediately looks like she wants to puke.

“Marry me, and I will return your guns four months after.”

She shakes her head in absolute shock. “You’re out of your fucking mind if you think we can survive playing happy couple for more than a day. Why don’t you marry princess Michelle? She seems submissive enough to be your type.”

A wave of irritation rolls through me at the mention of Michelle. I don’t and have never, cared for the woman. I haven’t even seen her since this infuriating little tigress came into my life as subtly as a wrecking ball.

But she’s disposable, I remind myself. That’s the only reason she’s perfect for this role. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

“My type is irrelevant. I have an objective in mind, and you are cornered with no other place to run. This isn’t a negotiation. This is an offer for you to stay alive for another day.”

I can see her sorting through her options in her head. Good, she is, at the very least, an intelligent woman. She’ll know what’s best for her.

“You could just kill me after the wedding,” she says, giving me a shrewd look.

“As you could kill me before the wedding. Come now, Kitten, doesn’t this sound thrilling? Don’t you want to dance with the devil a little before you get married?”

The mere mention of marriage has her turning a shade paler. She seems just as averse to the concept of legally tying herself to someone as I am.

“It seems like you’d be getting a lot more out of this than I would. Your father won’t hand over the business to you until you’re married. So why do I have to wait four months for my guns?” Her gaze flicks back to the box between us as if it’s burning a hole in the table.

The less I tell her, the better. After all, I don’t actually want her to have inner knowledge of my family’s business; however, a small piece of information won’t harm the objective.

“My mother let it slip that the rights to the business don’t get handed over until three months after the marriage. So, four months of pretending to be a good little wife will ensure you and I both get what we want out of this. I’ll even pay you two million for your time to show my generosity.”

“Fifteen,” she quickly replies.

“Done.”

“No, sorry, fifty.” She crosses her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts up as she does, and I know it’s intentional. Unfortunately for me, it has it’s intended effect in that tight fucking leather she’s wearing. Leather, I’d do anything to cut into right now. I clear my throat, wishing I were adjusting my cock instead, but I refuse to show her the hold she has over me.

No woman has ever affected me like this.

They’ve always served as a means to an end. But I’ve never… yearned for a woman before. That can’t possibly be the right word to describe this. I just simply need to fuck her before our wedding day to flush her out of my system.

“Done. I’ll transfer half as an engagement present and the rest on the wedding day once you’re my darling wife. But you won’t get your guns back until we’re done.”

“I hate you,” she snarls as she stands and glares down at me. I quite like the scornful expression, knowing I’ve ruined my soon-to-be wife’s fucking day.

“Oh, and will you be a good fiancée and tell me who’s hired you to kill me? When you find out, that is.”

She smirks. “Dear, sweet husband-to-be, I can tell you already that our strength is not communication.”

“Then what will it be?” I ask with an arched eyebrow.

She places her hand on the ring box and pulls it toward her with a twisted smile.

“Tolerance, at the very least. Personal space at best.” Her smile drops, unsheathing the feral expression beneath. And she takes her leave.

I stare at the tight leather wrapped around her curves as she saunters out, and I smirk.

This might actually be fun.