Page 26 of My Orc Contract Husband
“Right. Nice shirt, by the way.”
Grinning, Riven twirled—tiny bundle of energy that she was—while holding out the hem of the shirt. The shirt had the acronym BAGGACOTD in pink curly letters across the boob area, and Riven was clearly delighted by it.
“Thanks! I stole it from my cousin. She’s a book slut and reads really filthy smut.”
Rolling my eyes, I padded toward the fridge. “And you love it just as much.”
“I do indeed.” Riven pulled out a large mug for me and a glass for herself. “I dunno if I owe you thanks or curses for introducing me to mafia romance. Grab me the water while you’re in there, please.”
I met her at the counter with the water and a carton of Sharon’s chocolate fudge swirl ice cream, which I scooped into the mug as Riven prepared the salad she’d brought home from work.
Once we were settled at the table, she took a deep breath. “Okay, so Tarkhan knows about your father and Montgomery and has offered to marry you?”
“No, it was my idea.” Was it? Everything was a little hazy. “But he seems on board. The reason it’s taken him so long to find a house is that he can’t get approved for a mortgage company, but if he was married…”
My cousin nodded. “Your income would apply. So this would be like a mutually beneficial thing?” She shoved a big bite of grilled chicken and lettuce into her mouth.
I dragged my spoon through the ice cream as I nodded. “And it might seem weird, but I trust him. A lot more than I trust Pierce.”
As we ate, Riven quizzed me.
What do you know about Tarkhan?
How long have you known him?
When you say you trust him, that’s not just panic talking?
How confident are you that Tarkhan can stand up to Montgomery?
And I did my best to answer without getting defensive. I wasn’t here to defend my choice, after all. I was herebecause I needed Riven’s point of view and needed her to help me think of this from all angles.
By the time my ice cream was done and her salad had been mostly decimated—as the chef, why had she included the banana peppers if she was just going to pile them on the side of the bowl?—I felt as if I’d done a pretty good job of explaining my thoughts and reasonings.
Which was impressive, considering two hours ago everything was still a jumble in my mind.
“Okay,” Riven announced, grabbing my mug and heading for the sink. “So it was raining, and you were crying, and he hugged you.”
“It was…a little more than a hug.”
“Okay, so it was raining, and you were crying and then you humped his bones.” She sent me a smirk as she finished rinsing and loading our dishes into the dishwasher. “He was cuddling with you.”
“He was cuddling,” I agreed. “I…liked it.”
My cousin snorted. “I’ll bet you did.” When I glared at her, she winked lewdly. “And that’s what convinced you to trust him?”
How to explain? I stared down at the placemat Brooke had made circa fifth grade, and tried to form my thoughts into words.
“When he held me…he was gentle. I was panicking—IknewI was panicking, and I couldn’t stop. He did and said all the right things, and he made me feel…” I took a deep breath. “He made me feel safe. His first instinct was to protect me, and that’s what I need in a husband. A pretend husband.”
“Oh no, Sami,” she corrected, her hip propped against the counter as she studied me. “This would have to be arealmarriage if you’re going to keep Montgomery at bay.”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “I guess so.”
“So you’re sitting there in his lap, vulnerable—emotionally and physically—and he didn’t try anything? Cop a feel or anything?”
My head jerked up. “No, of course not!”
Riven was studying me with amusement in her eyes and in her smirk. “You’re sure he’s interested in youthatway?”
