2. Not A Good Idea
Not A Good Idea
"Um. Right."
I say this as pleasantly as I can, and I even manage to smile while taking a step back. I know I'm no genius, but even someone like me recognizes a lunatic when I see one, and well, there's only one thing to do but—
Run.
That's what I was planning to do, but I don't get the chance because he's the kind of lunatic who's not just gorgeous but also capable of reading my mind.
I don't even get to turn around.
He's already captured my wrist, unsmiling (but also still too beautiful for my heart to be immune to, and aargh, why can't I stop thinking about his looks?)—
His fingers go all the way around my wrist with room to spare. He isn't hurting me, but he isn't letting go, either, and when I give my arm the tiniest, most pathetic little tug, his grip doesn't even notice.
"In five minutes, my security will be here with the necessary means to remove you from these premises without being seen. You understand why that's imperative?"
I slowly nod. Konrad is one of the wealthiest men in this lawless nation, so that pretty much makes him a god.
And I just ran away from him.
"Getting you out is just the first hurdle." He lets go of my wrist and moves away with the kind of grace that's strangely lethal. Like a big, dangerous cat that's more used to the dark.
I rub my wrist without meaning to. It doesn't hurt, but it's warm where his hand used to be, and I don't know what to do with that.
"For as long as you're in this country, you're considered your stepfather's property without any right to liberty."
He says it like it's nothing at all, and he does it with his back to me, because he's already crossed to the closet and punched a code into the safe inside it.
Except it isn't the kind of safe hotels give you for your passport and your earrings. It's big and black, with a steel door as thick as my arm, so when it swings open, it looks less like a hotel safe and more like a bank vault.
And inside—oh, okay, there's a gun.
And he's, oh, there's another gun and another, and he's laying them out on the bed one after the other, so neatly it's like he's setting a table.
Who is this man?
What kind of person checks into a hotel with a vault full of guns?
And more importantly, why am I still standing here instead of running for the door?
"The only way to get past that—"
His fingers go to the top button of his shirt.
"—is to marry me."
A squeaky sound escapes me as I quickly turn around, and I’m not sure if it’s because he’s just started undressing or it’s because he’s just asked to marry me. Maybe both?
Right?
"There's an American office in this city that doesn't officially exist—”
Am I being a prude? How is he able to speak so calmly without his shirt off?
“The official there can make our union legal."
Right…right…
I’m trying my hardest to concentrate, but my cheeks are on fire, and half of my brain cells feels completely fried.
Like, c’mon, Kar!
You just escaped your stepfather gone bad, and you almost ended up married to the worst man alive, and yet here you are, acting like you’re on your first date—
“Are you listening to what I’m saying?”
“Uh…y-yes.”
I risk taking a peek, and…ugh.
He's pulling on a fresh white shirt, so I still catch an unforgettable glimpse of his bare chest, but phew, at least he's buttoning it now, and so it's safe to face him again.
"My rights as your husband would supersede your stepfather's—”
Then he buckles a black leather harness over the shirt, and right, okay, that’s where guns are
supposed to go, duh.
“But if they get to you while you're still here—”
He slides one gun into the harness under his arm. Another goes at the small of his back while a third disappears somewhere I don't even see. Then he shrugs into a dark suit jacket, and just like that, every gun is hidden.
“They can ask the court to recognize you as someone with diminished mental capacity, which renders the marriage null and void."
I should probably feel very concerned about all of this stuff he’s saying, but right now, I’m just trying not to gape at how really good this man looks in a suit. Like, James Bond meets Bruce Wayne meets—oh, he’s walking toward me?
"If we do succeed in flying you out of Moskra…”
It takes so much effort to stay still for some reason.
“You'll need to live in a secure and undisclosed location. You won't be completely safe from Konrad until he's behind bars or six feet under."
And equally hard is keeping my breath from catching as he stops right in front of me.
"You never told me your name."
"K-Karyna."
I don’t know why, but it scares me that he has to ask this. Like him knowing my name means life can never get back to normal—
"It's time to make up your mind, Karyna."
All I can do now is stare, my mind dazed, and my heart just as dizzy from all the seesawing between optimism and despair. I really feel like I’m losing my mind with him making it sound like everything’s so insanely easy and simple as he goes on to ask—
"Are you going to take your chances with me or not?"