Page 18 of Bloody Vows
“I’ll marry Tristan,” she says flatly, and my name sounds bitter on her tongue.
Konstantin nods, and I think I see a glimmer of relief in his expression, although he hides it well. “Good,” he says simply. “The wedding will be in two weeks. Simone, I expect that you will arrange that, while Finnegan, Tristan, and I handle the takeover of the estate and businesses.” He nods to us both. “Tristan, if you want to say anything to your fiancée, we’ll give you another moment. We’ll have things to discuss after.”
They leave again, and Simone and I are alone in the room, the weight of her response hanging heavily between us.
“You said yes.” I felt relief, too, when she said it, though I wasn’t going to allow her to see it. I won’t ever let this woman see anything that might give her the upper hand. I know she’d run with it in an instant, destroy me, ruin me if she were able to. It’s that knowledge that makes her so intoxicating, so hard to resist. She’s a challenge, and I’ve never found one that I couldn’t beat.
Her lips press together in a thin line. “I didn’t want to die,” she says simply, and I nod.
“Of course. It’s an understandable feeling.” I pause. “No one wants to die.”
She looks at me, drawing a sharp breath through her nose. “Sometimes I wonder if my father did. He had to be suicidal, I think sometimes, to go up against Konstantin like that. To betray him. To lie to him. But then I think about it a little longer, and I remember that he was just arrogant. Proud. He thought he was better than everyone else.” Her gaze meets mine, cool and hard. “Men like that make mistakes.”
“I don’t make mistakes,” I assure her. “And this wasn’t one, I’m sure of it. We’ve made an alliance here today, Simone. A step forward into our future. And I brought you something to seal it.”
I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out the ring box, watching as her dark eyes fix on it with something that might be horror. "I thought you might like it.”
I cross the room until I'm standing directly in front of her once again, close enough to smell her perfume, close enough to see the pulse beating rapidly at the base of her throat. She's afraid, but she's trying not to show it, and something about her bravery in the face of what must feel like certain doom makes me want her that much more.
"What is that?" She looks at the box like it might bite her, her lips still in that thin line.
"What do you think it is?" I flip open the lid, revealing the emerald cut diamond in its heavy setting, nestled in black silk. The stone catches the early evening light, and I hear her sharp intake of breath.
She stares at it for a long moment, and briefly, I think she might actually appreciate the gesture. That it might soften something in her, bridge something between us. But then her expression hardens, and she glares up at me. "You've got to be kidding me."
I glare at her right back. "I don't kid about business."
"Business." She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "That's what this is to you, isn't it? Just another business transaction. And this—" she gestures at the ring. "Is what, your way of making it seem real? Making it seem like something other than what it is?"
I lean closer to her, the ring sparkling between us. "And what is that, Simone?"
"Slavery with better jewelry," she spits back at me, her gaze murderous.
The words hit harder than I expected, and I feel my jaw clench. "It's marriage. The same kind of marriage your father would have arranged for you eventually."
"My father would have chosen someone who at least pretended to respect me."
"Respect is earned," I say, echoing something my own father has told me countless times. "Not given simply because you demand it."
Her eyes flash with fury. "And what exactly do I need to do to earn your respect? Spread my legs and smile while I do it?"
The crude words from her perfect mouth send a jolt of heat straight to my cock, thickening it in an instant, and I have to fight to keep my expression neutral. "That would be a start."
She recoils like I've slapped her, and for a moment I think I've gone too far. But then her spine straightens and her chin lifts even higher, and I realize I've only made her more determined to fight me. The thought heats my blood like I’m on fire, my cock stiffening even more with anticipation.
"You're disgusting." Simone sneers at me. “A brute. A disgusting?—”
"I'm honest." I step closer, closing in on her against the desk. "At least I'm not pretending this is some great love story. At least I'm not lying to you about what I want."
"And what do you want?" she hisses, her eyes flashing. “Tell me again. My inheritance? My virginity? What else,Tristan?”
The sound of my name on her lips makes me so fucking hard it hurts. "Everything." I brace one hand on the edge of the desk, caging her in. "Your name, your money, your territory, your body. All of it. Given to me without question, to own, to command, topossess."
She's breathing hard now, her chest rising and falling in a way that draws my attention to the swell of her breasts above the neckline of her dress. "You can't just take me like I'm some prize to be won."
"I'm not taking you." I hold up the ring box again, and this time she can't look away from it. "I'm asking you to marry me."
"With a gun to my head." She crosses her arms over her chest, forcing me back the slightest bit. “That’s not asking, Tristan.”
