Page 10 of Crimson Vows

Marco’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You want an open marriage?”

I shrug, the weight of my words resting heavily in the air between us. “If that’s what you want to call it. I’m not apologizing that I like being desired, and I don’t want to lie about what I want. If I were born a boy, I wouldn’t have to ask for permission to satisfy my desires.”

His gaze flickers with a mix of conflicted emotions. “And what if one day you find someone you love? What happens then?”

I take a deep breath. Trying to steady myself amid the tumult of emotions swirling within me, I state, “I’m not looking to have an emotional connection with another man. It would only be sex.”

“I think I can share your body, but I won’t share your heart,” Marco states firmly.

“I wouldn’t ask you to.”

Marco’s expression softens, his gaze filled with longing and uncertainty. “When I think about a future with you, the idea of sharing you isn’t part of the picture. But I also know with every fiber of my being we could be so good together.”

“So you’re okay with me seeing other men?” I attempt to clarify.

“I’ll give you the freedom to date other men as long as you’re discreet and promise you will never make a fool of me.”

I take a moment to process his words. I didn’t expect this when I told Marco he needed to come to me with a plan, but maybe he’s not wrong. I was willing to marry Vincent in a similar arrangement. At least, Marco seems to want me for me rather than some play to secure power like Vincent.

“I need time to think about it.”

Marco’s eyes darken, a flicker of something dangerous passing through them before it’s quelled by that ever-present control. He leans forward, hands clasped, elbows resting on his knees. “You can take all the time you need, Gia, but I know we can make this work,” he says, voice low and firm. “A marriage—discreet, without scandal. You won’t embarrass me, and I’ll give you everything.”

Everything. The word hangs between us, tantalizing and terrifying.

Rising, he extends a hand, gently tugging me to my feet. “Our date, then? Let tonight be about possibilities, not decisions.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“Your carriage awaits, princess.” Marco’s voice is softer now, persuasive. He believes in what we could be together; I see it in how he looks at me. As much as I want to believe him, I’m not sure I’m capable of that level of trust.

I nod, letting him lead me to the door.

A sleek black car is parked on the street in front of my brownstone. Marco extends his hand, and I take it. The warmth of his palm is a stark contrast to the cool evening air.

“Ready?” His voice is a low hum, a song meant to soothe wild beasts—or perhaps wary women.

I let my eyes linger on him for a moment before I smile at him and honestly tell him, “I’m excited.”

I think about Marco’s proposal as we slide into the car and head toward our evening. I have never had a man be so direct and honest about what he wants and is willing to offer in return. It’s refreshing in a twisted way.

The car glides through the city streets, the familiar sights blurring past me as my mind races with questions and doubts. The thought of Nico lingers in the back of my mind, his unexpected request for a date still fresh in my memory. Marco made it clear that while my body is mine to share, my heart would not be. I know I have a connection with Nico, so if I choose to marry Marco, it would be wisest to avoid that relationship.

I glance at Marco, his profile carved in shadows against the passing city lights. There’s an intensity about him that both entices and frightens me. He’s dangerous, but so am I. He might be onto something with this revision to his proposal.

Once at the restaurant, we are shown to our table. He pulls out my chair, his gaze lingering on mine.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Fine,” I snap, then add, “Just thinking.”

“About?” His eyebrow arches, a silent challenge.

I chuckle lightly. “Choices,” I answer, and he lets the statement rest as the server approaches a moment later.

“Remember, tonight isn’t about making decisions. I want you to enjoy your time with me. Tell me a secret,” he says suddenly, leaning forward.

“A secret?” I laugh. “Secrets are currency, Marco. Are you sure you can afford mine?” My reply is playful but edged with truth.

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