Page 9 of Resisting Royal

“He owes a lot of money.”

“So, you kill him?” she screamed.

“No. I take you,” I confirmed.

“I’m not something that can be traded.” She stepped toward me in challenge.

“Then, he dies.” It was simple, really.

“You say that like it’s nothing. It’s death. Murder. Of my father of all people.” She stepped closer, and the anger she expelled was adorable.

“Look, Bianca, Amore. The decision is in your hands. You say no, he goes and takes a ride with Troy. You say yes, that man over there, seals the deal.” I pointed to the officiant in the corner.

She followed my finger to the man then turned back in my direction, “You say it’s my decision, but there really isn’t one. If I disagree with your terms, he dies.”

“It’s still a decision.”

She growled. “Not a reasonable one.”

“I think I’m a reasonable man, Bianca. He’s had ample opportunity to pay me back, but has failed to do so.” I steeped my fingers, giving off a bored appearance. “I’m not invested in his life, only my own. The troubles that plague him are of no concern to me; the consequences, unimportant. I care about my money and my money only. He doesn’t have the money; therefore, he suffers the consequences of a faulty deal. He offered you in exchange as if you were a mere possession to offer. I’m fair, I see the flaw in his offer, that is why I’m asking your permission to make the trade.”

“But a person can’t be traded,” she argued.

I checked my watch, noting the time. “Take it or leave it, Amore. I have other business to attend.”

“Trading whores at this hour,” she mumbled.

I stood up, letting my full height tower over her from feet away. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re acting like a child. I don’t participate in the sex trade. Loans, bets, fights, that’s where it's at. Maybe the occasional drug run, but nothing as morally wrong as sex trade.”

“Only murder,” she added.

I threw my head back and groaned. “Not of anyone that doesn’t deserve it. Anyone who dies at my hand or my order has already had compromised morals anyway.”

“Is that the justification you use to sleep at night?” I heard Troy chuckle, and I lifted my head to glare.

“Actually, I usually don’t sleep until morning hours. Take it or leave it, Bianca. I don’t have any more time for this pointless sparing.” I crossed my arms in front of my chest and gave her a pointed stare, urging her to answer.

She looked back at her father. The man who stood there pitifully bleeding and broken, shame painted over his face and body. “Let me die.”

I couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped because it was him going to his death that caused him to offer up his only child. Determination caused by his words made her stand straighter. “I can’t.” She turned to look at me and said, “I’ll do it.”

I knew what she meant, but I wanted to hear her say it. “Do what?”

She bit her lip with uncertainty. “I’ll offer myself as your property in exchange for my father’s life.”

I tsked, “Oh Bianca, love. You’re going to be more than just property, you’re going to be my wife.”

I snapped my fingers for the officiant to step forward at the same time Bianca let out a panicked, “What?”

“What did you think this deal was about?”

“That you would own me, but your wife? Do you marry all your property?” The quiver in her voice showed just how nervous she suddenly was.

“My wife is not my property; she’s my equal. A partner, a sounding board, and most importantly, something to pacify my mother’s nagging. Do you want to retract your agreement?” This was the absolute last chance I was giving her because, honestly, I wanted her. Once I realized just who she was and how smart her mouth could be, I fucking wanted her more.

She looked toward her father one more time, then back to me, her eyes staring directly into my soul. “I’ll do it, Mr. Russo.” She gulped down some air as if saying it was a struggle. “I’ll be your wife.”

“Royal,” I clarified.

“Royal?”

“Call me Royal. After all, it would seem odd for a wife to refer to her husband in such a formal way, would it not?”

She nodded. “Yes, Royal. I’ll be your wife.”

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