Chapter 21 – Poppy
The catering staff served a delicious meal.
Apparently, the bookstore often hosted high-end events, and there was an industrial kitchen set up in the back.
I wanted to melt into the floor when I realized that the staff had likely heard my very vocal compliments to Ivan’s abilities.
When they came to clear dishes and bring each course, I lowered my gaze, finding something fascinating in the table’s natural pattern to direct my focus.
“Are you satisfied?” Ivan asked. There was a smooth note to his voice, almost reminiscent of a purr, but not as pronounced.
“It was delicious, but yes, I’m stuffed.” I leaned back in my chair.
He nodded. “Very good. Now, I have a business proposition for you, and you’re going to say yes, because it is in your best interest.”
The hazy satisfaction of good food and rich wine was slapped right out of me. I focused on his smirking face, my eyes going wide. “A business proposition?”
That was never a good thing in the underworld.
“Yes, you’re in a unique place, Poppy. You are undoubtedly my son’s caretaker—”
I bristled at the term but bit my tongue.
“—and you’re living under my house, as my guest.”
“My thanks,” I muttered dryly. His clean house, thanks to me. And the fridge was full of proper food, not to mention the meals I busted my behind to make.
“No…I thank you. That is why I am going to make sure your place with us is permanent,” Ivan said, the corner of his mouth tipping up.
I did not like the look on his face. It was diabolical. The kind a villain wore before they revealed their plan.
Oh boy, what now?
“Okay?” I hedged.
Ivan leaned forward, brushing the tips of his fingers over my cheek. His hair fell over his shoulder, creating a dark frame. “My little flower. You don’t have to look frightened. I’m not going to eat you alive.”
But you just did.
The moment I thought about it—again—a rush of heat warmed my cheeks.
Ivan grinned. “What are you thinking about, Poppy?” he teased.
“That you’re taking forever to get to the point,” I snapped to hide my embarrassment. “Make me your offer.”
Ivan’s face hardened. “This was supposed to be romantic.”
His words floored me. Romance? How! How did he think we had any of that? There was potential, sure, but to have a true, intimate connection, we had to like each other. And I was sure that apart from the raging chemistry, we tolerated each other’s presence for the sake of our son.
And this coming from the man who thought love was for stories.
I saw it now. He was doing the things, acting the part. But it was a farce. Because his heart wasn’t in it.
That cold, dead heart probably didn’t beat anyhow.
“But if you want it to be straightforward,” he continued, sitting back in his chair, “here it is. You’ll marry me, take my name, and become a part of our syndicate.”
The very air was stolen from my lungs.
No! Just…no!
I escaped this world to avoid a forced marriage. The room spun around me. A band of iron tightened around my chest, crushing, constricting. The word marriage echoed in my skull like a death knell.
“I—I can’t—” My voice emerged as a wheeze.
My fingers clawed at the crimson skirt, desperate for something to anchor me as vertigo tilted the world sideways.
Cold sweat broke out across my skin while a wave of nausea rolled through my stomach.
The candlelight suddenly seemed too bright, the shadows too dark, everything intensified to an unbearable degree.
“You would have status, protection,” Ivan continued, seemingly oblivious to my distress as he sipped his wine. “Brady would have his father’s name. His true name.”
Silence ticked by with a crushing finality. Ivan’s brows knit together, his frown intensified as he watched me. Clearly, he’d expected a different reaction to this proposal.
Oh, shit…a proposal. That was what this was. It made sense now. The gown, the dinner, the detail of it being in a fancy, opulent bookstore. Ivan had outdone himself to make it special for me.
But if he knew me at all, he would never have attempted such a move.
I was only ever going to marry for love. It was my creed; the declaration etched into my heart. I cut ties to my father and brother to carve those words.
I will not let this monster force my hand. Clearing my throat, I gathered every drop of strength and sat straight. “No, Ivan. I will not marry you.”
He jerked back. Something glint in the candlelight. I looked at his hands. There it was, the final piece. A brilliant diamond set in a band with smaller stones decorating the metal. He bought a ring. He bought a freaking gorgeous ring! The kind any woman would kill to wear.
Anyone but me.
Thunderclouds formed in his dark features. “No?”
It was as if he couldn’t fathom this going any other way than his plan.
“No,” I repeated. “Thank you for this beautiful dinner, but I’m unable to accept your solution.”
There. That was tactful and polite. The kind of answer a debutant of old would have given.
Ivan fisted his hands. “You realize this is the best thing for you?”
In terms of my circumstances? Sure. I could see that. I was an outsider, and his men no doubt considered me a threat. Hell, he probably did too.
But if he really wanted what was best for me…. I sighed.
“Let’s go back to the house now. Arguing over this is pointless,” I offered.
Ivan opened his mouth as if to argue. Then he closed it.
I rose, cupped my hand behind the shortened tapered candles, and blew them out. “For what it’s worth, this was by far the best proposal.”
“You’ve had others?” There was a slight sneer behind his words.
“Mhmm, and when you aren’t quite so angry—” he scoffed, but I ignored him “—you’ll realize that there’s probably a reason I’m still single.”
Turning, I moved through the first row of shelves, seeking a moment of privacy before we left together. I didn’t hear him approach. Didn’t sense him until a whisper of mint tickled my nose.
His hard grasp snaked around to catch my throat. Ivan snatched me back, bringing me flush against my body. A band of iron muscle wrapped around my waist.
“No one refuses me,” he growled against my ear.
Shivers skated over my frame. His fingers squeezed around my throat. My lungs seized, refusing to draw breath. Not that they could.
“You will marry me.”
With the last burst of carbon dioxide, I managed to choke out one word. “No.”
His grip tightened.
Stars danced across my vision, the edges going black.
A sensible being would be frightened. They would fight for their life. But deep in my heart, buried behind the instinct to escape, was a certainty that he wouldn’t hurt me. I clung to that with keen desperation.
And somehow, my body listened.
I began to relax, falling back into his hold. My muscles went limp; my fingers stopped clawing at his arms. I dropped my head back against his chest, resting and waiting for him to act.
“Why are you fighting me on this, little flower?” Ivan’s breath was hot against my skin.
His fingers loosened, and I gasped.
“I’m not marrying, Ivan. Just drop it,” I wheezed. “Find another way.”
“There is no other way,” he clipped out.
I closed my eyes and focused on breathing. “Then it seems we’re at an impasse.”
Those hard, unforgiving hands dug into my flesh once more before he released me.
I stumbled, barely catching myself on the shelf.
“It seems we are.” There was something in his voice. Something I couldn’t place. Stalking past me, he disappeared into the rows of books.
Five seconds passed as I waited to catch my breath. I followed him. As oxygen rushed to my brain, it dawned on me that the note in his voice had been pain. Not anger or frustration, but a sheer defeat. My refusal wounded him, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why.