5. Tristan
TRISTAN
W hen I see Simone Russo in her father’s office, facing Konstantin, my father, and me as we wait for her answer, she looks like she'd rather set herself on fire than be in the same room with me.
It's the most arousing thing I've experienced in months.
I meet her flat, cold gaze. “This is interesting,” I muse, and her mouth thins.
“What is?”
“I was expecting tears. Maybe some pleading. Begging for another option.” I tilt my head slightly. “Or have you realized that I am, in fact, the best one?”
I can feel my father’s eyes on me. I know he doesn’t approve of this, the banter, the baiting. But I don’t care. Right now, as far as I’m concerned, it’s just me and Simone in this room, and I want to hear what she’s going to say next.
She glares at me. “Maybe I was going to say yes, and after seeing you again, decided I’d rather die.”
The thought that she could be telling the truth is more alarming than it should be.
“I want a moment alone with her,” I declare, turning to look at my father and Konstantin.
“Regardless of what her answer is going to be, one of those options is that she’s going to be my wife. I want to speak with her alone.”
My father looks impatient, but Konstantin nods, motioning for Finnegan to follow him out. He follows, but reluctantly.
When the door clicks behind them, I look at Simone. “You know, you could be grateful.”
"Grateful?" The word comes out like a curse. "For what, exactly?”
"For the fact that you're not going to die today, as long as you say yes to me.
" I cross my arms, studying her face. "Konstantin could have decided to eliminate the Russo line entirely.
Instead, you get to live, you get to keep your fortune, and you get a husband who can protect what's yours.
Most women in your position would be relieved. "
She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Most women in my position don't have a choice in the matter."
"No," I agree. "They don't. But that's the world we live in, banphrionsa . You were raised in it, just like I was. You know how this works."
"Don't call me that. Don’t call me anything." Her voice is sharp, cutting. "And I know exactly how this works. What I don't understand is why you'd want to marry someone who's being forced into it. What kind of man wants a wife who hates him?"
"I want your territory.” I smile at her. "The Russo empire, the businesses, the connections, the money. All of it. Your father built something impressive, and now it's mine for the taking."
Her eyes flash with fury. "Last night, you said you wanted me. Graphically."
I let my gaze travel over her again, slower this time, taking in every curve, every line of her body. "You're a very nice bonus."
She’s more than a bonus, truthfully. She’s a prize, a jewel, a trophy in every conceivable way.
But I want her to fight back. One day in, and I’m already beginning to crave this back-and-forth between us, the way she spits fire at me and I throw it back.
I want to piss her off, I realize, because it fucking turns me on when she’s angry.
I like it when she fights me.
For a moment, I think she might actually launch herself at me, might try to claw my eyes out, and the thought sends another wave of heat through me.
"You bastard," she breathes.
"Probably," I agree. "But I'm the bastard who's going to keep you alive and keep your father's empire intact. That has to count for something."
"It counts for nothing." She moves around the desk, coming closer, and I catch a hint of her perfume, something that smells like roses and salt, like a garden at the edge of the sea.
It makes me want to bury my face in her neck.
"You think you can just walk in here and take everything that's mine?
You think I'm going to smile and play the grateful little wife while you steal my inheritance? "
I smirk, moving closer to her, using the advantage of my height to loom over her.
She's tall for a woman, but I still have several inches on her, and I can see the way her breath catches when I move into her space.
"I think you're going to do whatever Konstantin tells you to do, because the alternative is death.
And I think you're smart enough to know that. "
She tilts her head back to look at me, and I can see the pulse beating rapidly at the base of her throat. She's afraid, but she's not backing down. If anything, my proximity seems to make her more defiant, just like last night. I hope that never fucking changes.
"I could refuse," she hisses. "I could tell Konstantin to go to hell and take my chances."
"You could." I reach out and touch her cheek, just a brief brush of my fingers against her skin, and I feel her shiver. Her skin is like silk, impossibly soft against my fingertips, and my cock twitches at the sensation. "But you won't. Because you're not stupid, and you're not ready to die."
She jerks away from my touch like I've burned her. "Don't touch me."
"I'm going to be your husband, Simone. I'm going to touch you whenever I want."
The color drains from her face, and for the first time since I walked into this room, she looks truly shaken. "This isn't real. This whole thing—it's just business. It doesn't have to be… personal."
"Everything about marriage is personal." I step closer again, backing her against the desk. "Especially the parts that happen in the bedroom,” I add, enjoying her proximity, the way her chest rises and falls with her every quick breath. “And I’m very much looking forward to having you in my bedroom, Simone.”
She presses her hands against my chest, trying to push me away, but I don't budge. "I won't be your whore."
"No," I agree. "You'll be my wife. There's a difference."
"Is there?"
"We'll find out." I reach up, pushing a piece of hair away from her cheek, and she jerks away from me, her eyes spitting fire.
The office door opens before she can respond, and Konstantin walks back in, followed by my father. Simone immediately moves away from me, putting distance between us, but I can see that her hands are trembling.
Good . I want her affected by me. I want her to have to admit that she’s not impervious to the way I can make her feel.
"Have you had enough time to discuss the arrangement?" Konstantin asks, looking between us.
"We've discussed it." I shrug casually, as if we were just talking business all this time. "I'm satisfied with the terms."
Konstantin turns to Simone. "And you?"
She's quiet for a long moment, and I can practically see the wheels turning in her head. She's weighing her options, considering her alternatives, trying to find some way out of this that doesn't end with her death.
She swallows hard and looks at Konstantin, not at me. It’s a calculated move, and it sends a jolt of anger through me, a possessive flare that makes me want to press my thumbs into his eyeballs for looking at her.
It’s a dangerous feeling. Konstantin is not a man to be fucked with. But fuck if I don’t want her to give her answer to me, instead.
“I’ll marry Tristan,” she says flatly, and my name sounds bitter on her tongue.
Konstantin nods, and I think I see a glimmer of relief in his expression, although he hides it well.
“Good,” he says simply. “The wedding will be in two weeks. Simone, I expect that you will arrange that, while Finnegan, Tristan, and I handle the takeover of the estate and businesses.” He nods to us both.
“Tristan, if you want to say anything to your fiancée, we’ll give you another moment. We’ll have things to discuss after.”
They leave again, and Simone and I are alone in the room, the weight of her response hanging heavily between us.
“You said yes.” I felt relief, too, when she said it, though I wasn’t going to allow her to see it.
I won’t ever let this woman see anything that might give her the upper hand.
I know she’d run with it in an instant, destroy me, ruin me if she were able to.
It’s that knowledge that makes her so intoxicating, so hard to resist. She’s a challenge, and I’ve never found one that I couldn’t beat.
Her lips press together in a thin line. “I didn’t want to die,” she says simply, and I nod.
“Of course. It’s an understandable feeling.” I pause. “No one wants to die.”
She looks at me, drawing a sharp breath through her nose.
“Sometimes I wonder if my father did. He had to be suicidal, I think sometimes, to go up against Konstantin like that. To betray him. To lie to him. But then I think about it a little longer, and I remember that he was just arrogant. Proud. He thought he was better than everyone else.” Her gaze meets mine, cool and hard. “Men like that make mistakes.”
“I don’t make mistakes,” I assure her. “And this wasn’t one, I’m sure of it. We’ve made an alliance here today, Simone. A step forward into our future. And I brought you something to seal it.”
I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out the ring box, watching as her dark eyes fix on it with something that might be horror. "I thought you might like it.”
I cross the room until I'm standing directly in front of her once again, close enough to smell her perfume, close enough to see the pulse beating rapidly at the base of her throat.
She's afraid, but she's trying not to show it, and something about her bravery in the face of what must feel like certain doom makes me want her that much more.
"What is that?" She looks at the box like it might bite her, her lips still in that thin line.
"What do you think it is?" I flip open the lid, revealing the emerald cut diamond in its heavy setting, nestled in black silk. The stone catches the early evening light, and I hear her sharp intake of breath.
She stares at it for a long moment, and briefly, I think she might actually appreciate the gesture. That it might soften something in her, bridge something between us. But then her expression hardens, and she glares up at me. "You've got to be kidding me."