Vian
It’s been a month of warring with myself to the point of insanity. My heart yearns to take her up on the offer, while my brain blares warnings of catastrophic consequences.
The years of longing have weakened my resolve—a famished man starved for any crumb while she dangles the sweet possibility in my face. I can’t control this deep-seated craving for a bite to ease the constant hunger hollowing my gut.
I would have sold my fucking soul to get her back, but her proposal leaves me wondering if her brain wrote me off as a potential threat.
It’s strange knowing the woman I have loved for years has become a stranger. She has no recollection of me whatsoever.
The man she’s grieving is me.
The engagement ring she wears, I put there.
Then our world imploded, and I had to let her go, watching her from afar as she rebuilt her father’s empire.
I am in awe of her silent strength and sheer resilience. Just as much as I loathe her cutting me off, I can’t fucking stop loving her with every sinful fiber of my body, with every aching beat of my heart.
Marry me. Her proposition runs through my head, taking my brain for a spin and leaving me dizzy with its implications.
I shouldn’t even entertain the thought, but what if… The what-if will be the death of me.
The doctors assured me there’s only a very slim chance her memories will return. I took it as a good sign, especially since what happened then was pure gore—a traumatic event that made her dissociate.
Her reaction was so profound that I needed her brain to completely shut me out. To ensure her well-being, I had to stay away. Yet she found a way back, becoming an associate of the Syndicate and crafting a new existence on the ashes of her former self and our love.
If I am a king, I am the king of ashes.
Fisting my hands at my sides, I stare at the sky, darkening with an impending storm, just like the one that has been ravaging my insides for years.
I could not protect her then, a fool in love who ignored the world we inherited. I won’t repeat that mistake. No one will catch me unprepared or come close enough to steal her from me again.
Keeping her alive is what matters most. The task has been challenging, considering her penchant for ignoring danger. No, she leads instead of hiding behind her men. It’s a wonder my hair hasn’t gone gray from the constant stress and worry.
Keeping her safe is my top priority as I lead my empire. My days are too long, and my nights too short to recharge.
Picturing my dream pushes me toward her. Selfish to my core. Weak for a slice of paradise.
With her not knowing who I am or the history we share, it’s possible to give in to the lie that poisons my lungs and seizes my breath.
The problem is not making her fall in love with me, but making sure I never slip. Keeping some distance is paramount.
My phone rings, yanking me out of my thoughts, and I accept Conrad’s call.
“What is taking you so long? This is the perfect chance. This is what you’ve been working toward,” he says, his tone ringing with incredulity.
Is she impatient, anxiously awaiting my presence, just as I am hers?
“Don’t forget who you’re talking to,” I grit out.
“Sorry, boss, but you should know who you’re dealing with.” Care for her threads through the line. While the rational side of me rejoices in the knowledge, jealousy rears its head, making me want to bite his off for being so close to her when I couldn’t be.
“Tonight,” I say, hanging up, my decision made.
God help me, because another rejection might put me in an early grave.
I haven’t delayed the inevitable out of punishment, but to grasp the last strands of my sanity. As if denying her were possible. Reason disintegrates. One frail thread after another slips through my fingers, leaving me with no alternative but to go to her.
I can’t even tolerate the idea of her being with someone else. Even if she had chosen someone else, he would not have survived.
Glancing around my penthouse, I try to see it through her eyes, but we share no memories here. Nothing could poke her brain.
Walking into my office, I slump into the chair, my fingers lift the photo of us from the desk. The edges are brittle from being clasped; the colors smudged from how often I caressed her face, wishing for the actual connection.
I must forget this version of her to live with the woman she has become.
Love her hard enough, she will never look at me as if I betrayed her.
Love her deeply enough, she will never question the truth.
This endeavor encompasses the struggle of my life.
Few people know my secret, a secret I killed for and will kill for.
I lock the photo in my desk before changing into black coveralls. I slip into my boots and arm myself with a knife, a Glock, and a tranquilizer gun.
She wants to test me, so be it.
I won’t fail.
I can’t.
Taking some of my men with me as a distraction, I step inside the private plane.
They sense my broody vibe. Silent and focused, I spread the map of the compound on the table, pointing out the order in which they will land in the zone.
The team readies their packs, and once the plane reaches the drop zone, they fall out one by one.
I am the last to spread my arms open and plunge into madness, the night providing the perfect camouflage. Each team member checks in upon landing, and I give the go-ahead to proceed as planned. With my infrared goggles, I slip by undetected, giving the men at her compound a lesson in humility.
I had dipped my toes into the weapons business, knowing that through our marriage, I will have to lead that as well. Zara wanted nothing to do with it. She preferred to ignore it, but as she adored her father and loved me, she overlooked our flaws and criminal dealings.
A twig twists under my boot, alerting one guard who aims his gun and runs toward the sound.
In a real situation, I would have shot him, but I just back into a tree and slow my breathing, going deadly silent. Cloaked by the night and one with the trunk, he doesn’t notice me as he runs past.
Damn, I need to focus. Shoving all thoughts of her away, I move like a shadow from one tree to another, reaching the mansion undetected.
That’s the fucking issue: if someone is determined enough, he will find a solution. No safety measure is 100 percent safe.
Gunshots ring in the distance, my men doing their job as planned, and the few guards patrolling the entrance of her house immediately stalk off, leaving her unprotected. That thought alone enrages me enough that I could put a bullet through all of them.
The lights turn on, making it more difficult to go unseen, so I climb the side of the house, my fingers digging into the dips between the bricks as I heave myself up.
Hopping onto her balcony, I slip inside her bedroom through the glass door.
Then I drop onto the bed, waiting for her, my tranquilizer gun lying on my stomach, ready to be used.
I can hear some yelling, her frustration clear in her voice.
“I’m dealing with the issue myself,” she snaps and bursts into the room, coming to an abrupt halt. “You.” She stabs me with a death glare.
She’s the only person who can slay me with just one look. I am a fucking masochist who enjoys pure torture as long as she’s the one inflicting it.
“Hello, Zara, I came to pick up my wife.”
Her hand moves behind her back.
I cock my head, tsking. “I wouldn’t do that.” Lifting the gun, I point the muzzle at her shoulder. “By the time you wake up, you’ll be in Chicago.”
“I have a fucking mole in my team. Otherwise you couldn’t have pulled this off,” she shouts, her cheeks reddening with frustration.
Fuck, she looks hot when she’s pissed. My cock stirs in my pants, raw need coursing through my veins and making it difficult to focus.
She goes for the gun, and I shoot before she can reach for hers. “A deal is a deal. And you made one with the devil who came to collect.”
She gasps, wobbling on her feet. The gun topples at her side, and I rush to catch her before she hits the floor. Feeling her lithe body pressed against me sends a rush of potent emotions through my insides, reviving my comatose soul.
I have her back. Finally. The realization threatens to knock me down.
With her lids fluttering closed, I watch her for long minutes as if reacquainting myself with every inch of her flawless face, from her delicate cheekbones to her slender neck and heart-shaped lips. She’s a divine beauty.
Since the first moment my eyes found her, I was hooked, and she became my sole addiction, the hit of ecstasy I craved like the ultimate junkie. This woman owns me––an irrefutable fact. The truth of my life.
I gather her in my arms, pressing my trembling lips to her forehead, inhaling her sweet scent—a summer flower garden surrounding me.
I carry her out where Conrad awaits me. “Now what?”
I can’t take my eyes off her, not caring about anything but this. “Now I have her.”
“What if she remembers?” he whispers.
A part of me wants nothing else. I’ve carried the weight of sorrow for so long, I need her to ease me. The other part wishes it would never happen. Losing her a second time is something I can’t deal with. She can hate me for the rest of her life, but she’ll be my wife.
I walk past him, down the stairs and out into the night––a thief carrying away his treasured jewel.
My men have returned, bowing their heads as I hop into the back of a Jeep and they drive us away.
Back home, I lay her on the bed and hurry to bring her a glass of water and an Advil for the impending headache.
As I get into the shower, relief mixes with dread.
It is what it fucking is.
The reality of her surpasses any dream. I’ll face her wrath rather than live without her.
I stayed away even though it slowly killed me, but her proposition snapped my control, hope blossoming in the cemetery of my chest. She sought me out, so maybe her subconscious led her toward me, knowing I am her man, the one she’s supposed to be with.
Or maybe it’s all crap I am telling myself to ease the sting of guilt.
The warm water does nothing to soothe the tension carved into my muscles or the pain seared into my heart, while the cure to all my aches lies in my bed—unaware.
Toweling myself dry, I slide a hand over the mirror, erasing the condensation. Staring back at my reflection, I nod, at peace with my decision.
Then I put on some boxer briefs and slip under the covers.
In bed with her, my body buzzes with restless energy. I can’t take my eyes off her, gorging on her beauty to replenish my empty core. Propping myself on my elbow, I brush a strand of her silky hair from her face for an unobstructed view and press down a kiss on her temple.
This might very well be the last night of peace. Tomorrow, the tug-of-war will begin—a war of pretense, a war of domination, a war between lost lovers.
I count the hours until she wakes up. Hopefully, by then I will bury this avalanche of feelings she ignites in me.
“Sorry, mi sol, this is the only way,” I rasp and hold her to my chest tight as if daring anyone to take her from me.
Closing my eyes, I drift to sleep, the dream carrying me to the place I built for us. I was so proud the day I showed her our house, the one I thought would become our home. It was our refuge, the place where we could love each other freely.
Her father was a man I deeply respected, someone I was proud to call my future father-in-law. I cared for him, yet instead of honoring the deal, his greed caused a slaughter, laughing in my face as he left me to die.
A splash of cold liquid hits my face. I scoot up in bed, ready to attack when I see her by my side, the empty glass of water in one hand while she props the other on her waist.
Her smile is deceptively sweet as she says, “I could have killed you so easily.”
“Why didn’t you?” My voice sounds gruff with sleep, and I rub a hand down my face to clear it.
It would be the merciful thing to do, but I am cursed to stay alive, a ghost roaming his empire.
“Too easy.”
I burst into laughter, and she glares at me. “But I can change my mind.”
“Now, now, we’re engaged.”
She glances at her ring before she snaps her gaze back to me. “You made your point. I must return home and prepare for our unfortunate union.”
“Unfortunate, huh?” I ask, crossing my arms behind my neck, causing the sheet to slide down and reveal my chest.
I work out hard to stay in shape, but damn, her perusing my body with obvious attraction inflates my ego like nothing else. Her rich brown eyes have a life of their own, a mirror of her emotions—vivid, mesmerizing, drowning me with no effort.
I smirk. “Like what you see?”
She waves me off, but her flushed face betrays her. “You don’t look bad, but I’ve seen better.”
Her bite makes me want to bend her over this bed and spank her ass.
She pointedly sets her eyes on mine. “It is unfortunate, but it’s also a strategic union, so I focus on that part.”
“So pragmatic,” I grumble, my mood threatening to tip over.
“So full of yourself. I don’t think I like that.”
“Shit luck. I won you.”
Her mouth purses in clear outrage. “You stole me. That’s a huge difference. And you needed a whole fucking month.”
I hike a brow, jerking my chin at her. “So eager to become my wife?”
Her lips twist, and she huffs, palming her chest in mock distress. “I was losing my mind, wondering when my dark knight would show up and rescue me from a bleak existence.”
“Some wait a lifetime. I just needed a few weeks.” I grin.
She shakes her head, not impressed at all. “Your ego is out of control. No idea what intrigued me about you.”
My heart beats faster. Getting a grip on my emotions demands inhuman will. Don’t fucking lose her before you have her.
“So you satisfied your curiosity then? Unlucky for you, it doesn’t change the outcome.”
She walks to my side, slamming the glass on the nightstand. “How did you infiltrate my compound?”
I follow her with hawk eyes, reveling in not knowing what she’ll do next. “Distraction. The oldest trick in the book.”
It’s a valid point, and as she ponders, I continue, “No one can stop me once I covet something.”
“You want me so badly? Hmm, must have missed that.”
In a swift move, I snake my arm around her waist and drag her down to me. “Oh, Zara, maybe I planned this all along.”
She yelps, stiffening for a moment before a peal of laughter erupts from her mouth, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
Not even a full day in, and I slip.