But there’s a stubborn, angry fire that prevents me from succumbing entirely. It’s a fire I unleash the second the elevator door closes and we begin our ascent to the highest floor.
“Was it you?” I ask as firmly as I can.
Leon glances down at me with an unreadable expression. “You’re shaking. Mia, I’m not going to force you to?—”
“Was. It. You.”
He sighs. “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific.”
“Did you or did you not threaten my father’s life?”
Something seems to click behind those unfairly gorgeous brown eyes. “That’s why you agreed to this?”
“You didn’t know?” I frown as a tightness begins to settle within me.
“No, I—” he swallows and looks away. “I need an heir. But there are other…means of acquiring one. I wouldn’t need to threaten your father to do so.”
I look away, too. There’s so much tension in this small space it’s impossible to discern if he’s lying or not. Nor do I know him well enough to make a guess from his body language.
“I’m supposed to take you at your word?”
“It makes little difference whether or not you believe me.”
The elevator doors slide open, and the relief is instantaneous. Leon steps out promptly, and I follow him into what appears to be the penthouse suit. It’s a gorgeous open-plan space with a window that showcases jaw-dropping views of Manhattan.
Well, at least I married into money.
“Would you like a drink?” Leon calls as he wanders over to the kitchen. It seems someone has taken the liberty of stocking our fridge with champagne.
I make my way over to the window for a better look. “Is there anything stronger?”
He doesn’t reply, but a few minutes later, he’s at my side, handing me a generous glass of whiskey.
I down it in one swallow.
He gives me a long look over the rim of his own glass before placing it down. “We don’t have to do this.”
“Except we do for the marriage to be viable,” I counter.
“No one needs to know.”
It was a good point. A strong point, actually. One I wish I’d thought of.
“Unless you’d secretly like to.”
My eyes snap away from the skyline to find a dirty little smile on his face. It’s the first smile I think I’ve seen him wear.
I’m instantly on the defensive. “I think there are possibly a million things I’d rather do.”
“Am I really so abhorrent to you?” he teases, handing me the rest of his drink to finish.
I see what he’s doing; he’s trying to make me relax. It’s a gesture that I might have considered sweet if we weren’t discussing the possibility of sleeping together when we barely know one another.
“You have…agreeable features,” I concede as I down the rest of his whiskey, too.
“I’ve been told they’re more than agreeable.”
“By who, your mirror?”