Page 94 of 10 Days to Ruin

I wheeze a deranged-sounding laugh.

“But I didn’t. I recall signing exactly zero demonic pacts lately.” My laugh comes shriller than intended. “What’s next? Swear a blood oath at the altar? Brand me with your initials?”

Sasha reaches for me, but I lunge backward so his hand swipes through empty air. “Don’t be dramatic. It’s simple logistics. Leander needs heirs. So do I. It’s in the contract.”

With a mind of its own, my hand drifts to my stomach. I yank it away. “You’re insane if you think I’m incubating your little crime lordlets.”

“It’s in the contract, Ariel.”

Heat creeps up my neck. “Oh, please,” I scoff. “Like you’re not just making up all the rules as you go.”

He steps into my space. “The contract stipulates?—”

“Fuck your fucking contract, Sasha!”

The shout echoes, double-time, triple-time, until the ceiling finally swallows it without a trace.

Lowering my voice, I jab his chest. “You want a prop wife? Fine. But my uterus is a goddamn democracy.Idecide whose babies I have. Not you. Not anyone else.”

His gaze drops to my lips. “Careful. You’re starting to sound like you’re considering it.”

I am.

That’s the fucking problem.

His thumb brushes my inner wrist—chaste and yet devastating. Because inside, my mind is doing the devil’s work in making this all sound so unbelievablyreasonable.

It conjures forbidden images: Sasha’s scarred hands cradling a swaddled newborn. Him bringing me coffee at 3 A.M. feedings. A triple chorus of laughter—him, me, and something that’s a little bit of both of us—ringing loud in a backyard that doesn’t reek of blood money.

Horror blooms under my ribs. “You’re disgusting,” I whisper.

He doesn’t deny it. Nor does he look away. His eyes are sapphire blue in the gloom. “I told you a long time ago what I am, Ariel.”

A monster.He said it. Multiple times. But no matter how hard I squint, the man in front of him does not match that description.

I see it then, the same thing I thought I saw earlier. That softness, that light, that way in. It’s joined by something else, too: a flicker of want in his eyes that matches my own.

It’s not just lust. It’s deeper than that. Dumber.

Far more dangerous.

I twist free, fleeing toward the exit. Three steps. Five. Then my traitor feet stall and I come to a halt.

Sasha’s reflection looms in the glass of the nearest display. A copy of theKama Sutra, funny enough. The world’s oldest babymaking how-to guide. “Ariel?—”

“How are you even considering this? The things you’ve done…” My throat bobs. “The people you’ve hurt. And you want to bring a child into that?”

He sighs wearily. “Imagine how safe they’d be. Protected by both our families’ reach.”

My fingers curl. Fifteen years ago, Jas sat on our roof and said,Baba wants me to marry.He says I have no choice.Six weeks later, she was gone.

Now, Sasha stands here talking aboutsafety.Where was he when she needed protecting? How can he say those words now?

His shadow blankets me. “You’re afraid. I get that.”

“Don’t tell me what I am.”

“You’re wondering how this could possibly work.”

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