Page 34 of Marrying the Enemy

“I’ve spoken to your brother. He saw the advantages.”

“You’ve spoken to Nico.” That was a kick in the stomach she hadn’t expected. “And he agreed? What do you need me for?”

“This is how warring kingdoms reconcile, Evie. It’s one of the few tactics that has worked in every culture for millennia.”

Trading women as chattel? She bit back those ripe words.

“Can I show you something?” she asked, working at keeping an innocent expression on her face.

He blinked, puzzled, then curious. He shrugged. “Sure.”

She led him through the house and out the front door to the paved pathway that led from the porch to the road above. A pretty wrought-iron rail lined the path. It was covered in grapevines and bunches of green grapes not yet ripe. On the other side of the porch was a small garden filled with Nonna’s roses. A few late blooms perfumed the air with lemon and raspberry and vanilla. A silver car was parked on the road above. His, she presumed.

Dom stood beside her, head swiveling. “What am I looking at?”

“My answer.” She walked back into the house and slammed the door.

As she turned the lock, she heard his crack of laughter.

She waited, but there was no knock, no demand she let him in. Moments later, there was only the roar of his car’s engine.

She left her forehead pressed to the door, bereft that he had given up so easily.

Worry pierced her, too. Had this been a real chance to end hostilities? And she’d allowed pride to take over and throw it away? Maybe she had just poured fuel on a feud that she agreed did need to end.

In a state of turmoil, she made herself go back out to the terrace and drink the coffee Odetta had made while she brooded over yet another proposal that had fallen short of her romantic dreams.

Maybe I want too much, she fretted.

Then, not even an hour later, a florist delivered a unique blown glass vase filled with a stunning arrangement of fragrant lilies and sunny daisies and romantic pink roses. The card read:

I’ll pick you up for dinner at seven.

Be ready or I will not do wicked things to you later.

“Oh, you wish!” she cried.

And meant it. Mostly.

Actually, she very much wanted him to do all the wicked, sinful, carnal things they’d done in the Whitsundays. But she wanted that lovemaking to be something they wanted. She didn’t want it to be something he used to manipulate her, but she was very worried he could.

When she found herself in her closet staring blankly at her wardrobe, she realized she would have to do something she’d been avoiding. She called Nico.

“Eve,” he answered abruptly. “Where are you?”

“You know where I am because you sent Dom Blackwood here to propose a marriage you arranged. How do I get it through your thick skull—”

“Stop,” he commanded. “Listen. You need to know two things.”

After a beat of surprise, she lowered onto the tufted bench at the foot of her bed. “Such as?” she asked loftily.

“Dad’s health isn’t great.”

“What?” Her heart lurched. She put out a hand to steady herself while her reflexive ire at being the youngest and always left behind skyrocketed. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“Mom is the only other one who knows,” he said gruffly. “It’s his prostate.”

“Cancer?” Her heart stopped.

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