Florrie
My stomach twists so hard I have to brace a hand against it and make a conscious effort not to vomit right here in his office.
I don’t want to believe him. I really don’t.
But nothing about tonight has been normal. Not Brad. Not the hallway. Not the guns. Not the way that man looked at me like I was already dead.
And definitely not Leon Dubovich.
“You’re trying to scare me,” I say, even though my voice betrays me, wobbling on the last word.
His expression doesn’t change.
“I don’t need to scare you,” he says, his eyes glitter in the dim, artificial light of the office.
I drag in a shaky breath. “You don’t even know me.”
His eyes drop to my face, steady and unblinking. “I know enough.”
“No, you don’t,” I snap. The panic finally breaks through, sharp and hot in my chest. “You don’t know my job, or my friends, or my family. You don’t get to decide my future because I made a stupid turn down the wrong hallway.”
“I didn’t decide your future,” he says quietly. “Valentin did.”
I shake my head. “This is insane. People don’t just get married because of arms deals.”
His mouth twitches, humorless.
“Things are different in my world.”
I turn away from him, pressing my palms to the cool glass of the window. The club pulses below us, all flashing lights and careless bodies. Girls laughing. Men drinking. Someone celebrating a birthday. A normal Friday night happening a floor below us.
I was supposed to be part of that. Instead, I’m standing in a locked office with a man who just told me I might end up in a river.
My throat tightens.
“If I agree,” I say slowly, not looking at him, “what happens to me?”
There’s a pause behind me.
Then I feel his presence close in, solid and warm at my back.
“You stay with me,” Leon says. “You live under my protection. My name becomes yours. My men become your shadow. No one touches you without going through me first.”
I turn around. “And the catch?”
His gaze drops to my mouth, then back to my eyes.
“You don’t get to leave.”
The honesty in it almost makes my knees buckle.
I swallow. “Ever?”
He studies me for a long moment.
“Not without me.”
Something inside my chest tightens and loosens at the same time.
I think of Brad’s hand on my waist.
I think of the guns pointed in my direction.
I think of the way Leon stepped in front of me without hesitation. Claiming me to save me.
He didn’t have to do that.
“This isn’t very romantic,” I whisper, more to myself than anything. “This isn’t normal. And you’re terrifying.”
His mouth curves slightly.
I laugh, short and breathless, because if I don’t laugh, I might start crying.
“Jesus,” I murmur.
I wrap my arms around myself again, trying to hold together the pieces of the life I had half an hour ago.
Then I look at him. At the way he stands like nothing in the world could knock him off balance. At the way his eyes track every movement I make. At the way he hasn’t touched me again, even though he easily could.
He hasn’t lied to me once.
That counts for something. Right?
“What if I say no?” I ask.
His voice is quiet when he answers.
“Then I’ll still put a security team on you. I’ll still try to keep you alive.”
“But?”
“But I won’t be able to protect you the way I can if you’re mine.”
Mine.
The word sinks into my bones.
I close my eyes. This is insane. This is a nightmare. This is also very real.
When I open them again, my heart is pounding so hard I feel it in my throat.
“Okay,” I say.
Leon stills.
“Okay,” I repeat, forcing the word past the fear. “I’ll stay. I’ll… be your wife. At least for now.”
His eyes darken.
“Don’t agree unless you mean it.”
I lift my chin.
“I don’t want to die in a warehouse because I went on a bad date. And this seems like the only way to survive.”
He waits a beat, then his hand comes up slowly, cupping my cheek.
The touch is warm. Steady and possessive in a way that steadies me.
“Okay,” he says softly.
And somehow, impossibly, I believe him when he adds: “You’re safe now.”