Page 32 of Hostage with Benefits

“You could still work. Design whatever you want, for whoever you want. But only because you enjoy it, not because you need the money.” He paused, studying my face. “You'd have the freedom to be selective. To take only projects that interest you. Maybe you can work for one of the morelegitimatebusinesses my cousins run.”

Put that way, it sounded almost reasonable. Almost.

“Why are you offering this?”

Instead of answering directly, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small box, placing it on the table between us. Without much ceremony, he slid it toward me.

I stared at it, my heart suddenly pounding. “Mikhail?—“

“This would make things simpler,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact despite the enormity of what he was suggesting. “We could elope tomorrow. Or whenever you want.”

I opened the box with fingers that weren't entirely steady. Inside was a ring. A platinum band with an emerald-cut diamond flanked by smaller stones. Not tacky, yet undeniably fucking expensive.

“This is crazy,” I said, not taking the ring out. “We've known each other less than two weeks.”

“Yes.” No denial and no attempt to soften the reality from him. “And yet, here we are.”

“Why the rush? Why not... date like normal people for a while?”

He leaned forward, his expression serious. “In my world, marriages are rarely about love. They're arrangements between families, political alliances to prevent bloodshed or secure partnerships. They are negotiated like business deals.”

“And this would be different?”

“This would be a choice. My choice. Your choice.” His eyes held mine. “But it would also give me peace of mind. In my world, only a wife is respected and protected. I want you to have access to that, or I’ll worry any time you’re not in front of me.”

The practicality of his approach was so perfectly calibrated to my nature that I almost laughed. He knew exactly how to frame this with logical arguments and practical benefits so I would have to considerit. Bastard.

“You want to marry me for my protection?” I asked.

“I want to marry you because Iloveyou,” he said, those particular words still sending a shock through me. “The protection is a benefit, not the purpose.”

I looked down at the ring, still nestled in its box. “I don't need a proposal to stay.”

“I know.” His voice was soft. “This isn't about keeping you here. It's about keeping you safe. About making it clear to everyone in my world that this isn’t something temporary. That you are mine, and I am yours.”

Mine. The possessiveness in that single word shouldn't have made warmth pool in my belly. But it did.

“What about my father?” I asked, the question that had been nagging at me.

“What about him?”

“He's involved in... whatever it is you do. Won't that complicate things?”

Mikhail's expression hardened slightly. “Your father's involvement in my business is over. He's been... encouraged to look elsewhere. He won't be a problem for either of us again.”

I should have been concerned about what that meant. Instead, I felt only relief that I wouldn’t have to think of him again.

“So that's it? You decide you want to marry me, and I'm supposed to just say yes?”

“You're supposed to say whatever you want to say,” he countered. “That's the point. This is your choice. Say no if you want to say no.”

I looked at him, really looked at him. The man who had treated me with unexpected kindness. The man whose carefully constructed walls had crumbled when he thought I might leave.

“Yes,” I said before I could overthink it.

His eyes widened slightly, as if he hadn't expected me to agree so easily. “Yes?”

“Yes,” I repeated. “But I haveconditions.”

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