Page 8 of Burning Ivy (The KORT)

Eyes roving over my face and trailing briefly down my body, she tilts her head. “Your vagueness is intriguing and certainly entertaining. But it won’t get me down the aisle, so eventually, you’ll need to be forthright and offer up a little more.”

Interesting.Aware I’m hiding something, and yet her confidence seems to be growing with the whisper of danger. Ivanna Kingston is even more riveting than I already knew.

“While there are financialelementsinvolved in what I do, there’s far more that occurs behind the scenes. Some of which can’t be disclosed”—I arch a brow—“without spousal privilege.”

Her eyes light up with my admission, her chest rising and falling with what resembles arousal.

I tamp down the urge to haul her across the table and show her how dangerous I can be and instead shine the spotlight back on her. “Before I share further, you haven’t told me why this arrangement is necessary for you.”

“Right.” She pauses, savoring her merlot and regaining her composure, although her cleavage is flushed and fucking glorious. “Mine is a ludicrous inheritance issue—need to be married to get it. Archaic, misogynistic nonsense. I’ll need you to sign a prenup, of course. Will that work for you?”

The waitress arrives with a tray of appetizers, setting down the baskets and granting me a moment to watch Ivy. Always fascinating. She places a napkin across her lap, loads a few of each finger food onto her plate, and doesn’t hesitate to dig in, albeit with an elegant flair. It’s as though she’s forgotten I’m here and certainly forgotten she asked me a question minutes ago. Lost in thought, unaware she’s taken a vacation from ourdate.

Wherever she’s disappeared to, it offers her some semblance of freedom. While we both eat, I permit myself to observe her until she’s nearly finished her plate and I’ve pushed my empty one aside. Her face is a vision of contentment. I almost hate to interrupt.Almost.There will be plenty of time for admiring later—once this is all settled and she and everything I’ve been working toward are officially mine.

Clearing my throat, I stretch across the table. “I’m fine with the prenup. I’ll sign whatever you need.”

Her wide eyes flit up to me as she chews, swallows, and rolls her lips in. “Did I zone out there?”

“Only for a moment.” Or several, but who’s counting? “The food is good here, isn’t it?”

While she’s mildly relieved, unease still mars her features. “I apologize. Sometimes, I … it’s not important. The food is excellent. My best friend, Celeste, would love this place. My mother would hate it.” She giggles to herself. “Anyway, signing the prenup was the primary concern on my end. And the marriage needs to last five years.” She clamps her jaw. “Is that okay?”

“All fine,” I assure her.

Her forehead wrinkles with a vestige of surprise. “Great.” She exhales, wiping her hands with a napkin and relaxing into the booth, a smirk pulling at the corner of her rosy-painted lips. “Your turn. Give me more.”

I drain the last of my scotch before setting the glass back on the table with a clink. “I’ll be candid, Ivy. It’s important you know what you’re getting into. This life, my business, is … dangerous.”

She quirks a brow. “Dangerous how?”

“Ty and I work with two other men. Our clients are generally running from a potentially fatal situation, missing, or wreaking terror themselves. It’s for this reason there are strict rules for how we live, and you’ll be expected to adhere to them.”

Ivy mulls all of that over while the waitress replaces our drinks. “What do you do for these clients?”

I offer her a subtle headshake. “You’ll need to commit before I provide more details. That’s for your own safety.”

This is the point when most women would bolt, and they’dbe wise to do so. Ivy should unquestionably consider running. Not that I’d allow her to get away. My mind’s made up.

“Will I be safe?” she inquires with a hushed tone.

“Safe?” The question loiters over the table between us. A skulking cloud. My fingers stroke over the scruff on my jaw while I revel in the way her breathing picks up, exhilarated by the risks I’m hinting at. “Safety, like many things in life, is an illusion, but I’ll protect you.”

She nods, evidently agreeing with that unsatisfactory response, her tongue sweeping seductively over her bottom lip. “And you and me? What will we—”

“We’ll be business partners, but to the world, you’ll be mine.” My words bring a frown to her face before she can correct it.

Fantastic.Let the cravings begin.

I wonder how much of her question is centered on sex. We’ll be getting to that—plenty of it—but not tonight. Not for a while, unfortunately. She needs to be good and desperate before we travel down that path. My cock hardens, vehemently disagreeing, but there’s a bigger picture to keep in mind.

One final nugget of truth to bait her. “This isn’t a life suited for most, Ivy.”

Straightening her posture, she pulls back her shoulders and tucks in her chin. My Little Storm doesn’t like to be doubted. “I’m not like most people. Never have been. I can handle it.”

And there go her questions. She doesn’t care what the expectations are or what she’ll encounter, just that she isn’t considered to be in themostcategory—a nod to the thunderous spirit that drives me wild.

“Settled then?” I lift my glass to toast our progress. “Do we have an engagement?”

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