Page 51 of Sinful Sacrifice

I want it to be perfect.

And that includes not allowing someone to select my husband.

He runs his free hand up my leg. “I believe those are referred to as vows.”

“No, vows are what’s said during the ceremony. I need a prologue to the vows, a proclamation of why I should even accept a proposal and why he’d want me as a wife before that. Not for the sake of a business deal.”

My heart will never be for sale.

“You’re looking for a true happily ever after,” he states matter-of-factly with a hint of disappointment in his tone.

I slowly nod. “I deserve nothing less.”

He cocks his head to the side. “What happens if that’s impossible to find?”

“I guess I’ll have to search until I find it. But I won’t settle.”

“Who’s to say a happily ever after can’t come from a contract?”

“My happily ever after will never come with terms and conditions.” I quickly stop myself. “Other than the typical vows, of course. Monogamy, respect, in sickness and in health. All that stuff.”

A brief silence happens, as if he’s digesting what I said and considering his options. Since he mentioned allowing Cernach to draw up a contract, it seems he doesn’t see it as terrible as I do. I blow out a breath and chug my now-lukewarm coffee. One of my feet slips off his lap when he shifts to collect his phone from his pocket.

He unlocks it and makes a show of displaying the screen. The Calendar app is open.

“It seems I have eleven months to go, then.” He hits the plus button to add an event and types, Pippa is mine, onto the date a year from now.

“I said a year minimum,” I correct.

I don’t expect this to last a year. Damien will grow bored of me and shatter my heart. He’ll become only a memory, my hot fling with the bad boy.

“You wouldn’t make an exception for me?”

“I wouldn’t make an exception for the Pope.” I lower my eyes, feeling like I’m letting him down.

“Your mother went against Cernach’s wishes and married for true love. That didn’t turn out that well.”

“My father sold my mother a fairy tale he couldn’t deliver.”

“I’m surprised Cernach didn’t kill him for it.”

“Cernach knew my mother would eventually pay for it.”

And she did. I squeeze my eyes shut, remembering the stories of how badly they treated my mother.

“And the man she was contracted to marry?”

“Cernach paid him off. Rumor is that the price wasn’t cheap either.” I straighten my back. “Her family treats her like discarded trash now—no longer useful to them. Which is why I’ll never allow Cernach to draft a marriage contract with my name on it, not even to find out what he wants out of it. I like my life the way it is. Hard pass on being the Mafia niece.”

“You’d be more than a Mafia niece. You’d be my wife.”

I’m shocked we’re even talking about marriage. The only reason I can come up with for this conversation is that Damien is grieving his family. Other than his brother, who’s as closed off as my feelings when my ex told me dance wasn’t a real sport, he has no one. Damien most likely believes a wife would fill that void.

Or he’s had ulterior motives with me from the start.

Maybe the Lombardis need something from my uncle, and I’m the meal ticket.

“Twelve months,” I state. “No marriage contract. Those will always be my terms.”

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