Page 73 of Ruthless Rebel

I give him my hand, and he slips the ring onto my finger. It fits. Another surprise.

I didn’t think about this part, although of course there would be a ring.

Jericho says nothing. I don’t know what I expected him to say, but saying nothing hurts in an unexpected way. To counteract the hidden emotion, I act like I wasn’t the girl who used to spend hours on end daydreaming about this moment.

At eighteen years old, I’d already dreamed up when and where we’d get married, where we’d live, all the names for the four kids we were going to have, and what we’d do for the rest of our lives.

Little did I know I’d find myself in a juxtaposition of shit years later when Jericho would be giving me a beautiful engagement ring to be his fake wife.

Attempting to school my thoughts, I take a measured breath hoping it will clear the fog from my mind, then I think of something to say because he looks like he’s expecting me to comment.

“It’s beautiful.” Best to talk about the ring. I take another breath and realize I need to do more than just breathe. I need to go outside and get some actual air. “Well, looks like we’re done here. I’ll get on to this paperwork right away.”

I grab the envelope and turn to leave, wanting to get away from this situation as quickly as possible, but Jericho catches my arm.

He turns me back to face him and holds on to my hand with the ring on it.

I look at him, not knowing what to expect, but the hardened look on his face throws me.

“This ring on your finger means we’re officially engaged now, River.” His face is a stony mask, but something dark I’ve never seen before lingers in his eyes.

“I know. I get it.” And I wish he would let me go.

“Good, it means you act like my fiancée at all times. This marriage might be arranged, but we need to act like we’rerealin front of everyone else. That should be simple, yes?”

“It’s very simple.” I try to imbue my voice with poise and stare back at him with faux aloofness, as if he hasn’t fazed me.

“Glad we’re on the same page.” He runs his eyes over me and releases my hand, but only to press his fingers to the side of my jaw. The gesture would almost be endearing, but it feels too possessive. “To clarify, we kiss for the cameras, we touch for the cameras, we look legit for thecameras.”

His eyes hold a sheen of desire that grazes against the wall he’s trying to build up between us. For a moment, there’s a shift in his expression, and the desire filters down to the seriousness he’s trying to portray. It’s confusing, and I hate it because of the warmth stirring low in my belly.

“That means away from the cameras, we’re friends.” His finger glides down my neck, lingering by my collarbone.

“Friends.” It’s almost laughable. Jericho and I have never been friends, and he doesn’t feel like a friend now.

“Friends.” His eyes drop to my breasts, and there’s no mistaking the lust creeping into his gaze. It’s powerful and dark. Possessive and dominating. But then his business face returns, chasing away the desire and unwarranted lust. “Friends who will mutually benefit from a marriage, so there won’t be any unnecessary kissing, no unnecessary touching, and no fucking me. Or anyone else.”

Translation—except for the part about fucking—we won’t be having a repeat of last Saturday.

My cheeks warm, but not with arousal from the memory of the wild encounter we shared. It’s more like rage that he’s trying to lay out the boundaries between us and I mustn’t get the wrong idea. As if I’m not aware of those damn boundaries.Newsflash, Jericho. I got that memo already. More than once.

I guess he thinks I need the reminder because I might have acted as if I was pining over the past when I tried to leave. I’m also not some slut who’s going to sleep around and create additional scandals for him.

I want to set his silver-spooned ass straight, but I don’t.

Iwon’t. It wouldn’t be wise to give him a piece of my mind when he’s done so much to help me. But what an asshole.

“Do you understand me, River?” His stare is as sharp as the end of a needle.

“Perfectly.” His words are clearer than the diamond sparkling on my finger, but I know exactly what to tell his high-handed egotistical ass. “Don’t worry,friend, I’m sure I can go a year without fucking. I’ll be sure to make up for it the moment I’m released from ourfake marriage.”

I step out of his touch. Jericho’s lips part, but he holds back whatever he was going to say. It must be hard to keep his inner control freak at bay.

Jericho Grayson might still be the king, but I have him checkmate because he has no say in what I do when this arrangement is over between us.

I already assumed we’d create some ugly story that will lead to a sure acrimonious divorce—he’ll probably say I cheated to make himself look better with his grandfather. So, my guess is we won’t even see each other again after this.

“Are we done here?” I tilt my head up and level him a hard stare.

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