“You bet your ass. I’d do whatever is necessary to survive.” He leans forward, and I see the calculation in his eyes. “After your mother passed away, your father fell behind on church payments. My father stepped in to help him out. Paid the debt off, and gave him a little money to help take care of you. All it will take is one word from my family, and everything disappears. The church, his home, his standing in the community. Is that what you want to happen? What you think he wants to happen? Is he willing to give it all up just to lose, anyway?”
There is no winning this battle. Rage and helplessness war inside me. “You’re a bastard.”
“Tell me something I don’t already know,” he growls. “I’m fine being the bad guy. I’ll cross whatever line and threatenanyone I need to, to make sure we survive this.” His voice drops, becoming almost gentle. “And remember, there are numerous lives at risk here. My father’s already planning to frame Allie Porter for your disappearance. He wants to make it look like you two ran off together. If we don’t get married, then Allie’s life is over.”
The blood in my veins turns to ice.Allie.No. I can’t let that happen. I won’t let her become collateral damage for the Bishop family’s crimes. “That’s nonsense. Allie had nothing to do with any of this.”
“I know that, but my father doesn’t care. He will do whatever he needs to do to make certain the family is protected. Strategize, deflect, and put the blow back onto someone else.”
I can picture it too clearly—Allie’s face plastered across the news, her mother’s heartbreak, the town turning against the Porter family. “I refuse to let that happen. I won’t let you drag her into this situation.”
“Then you’ll marry me. You become a Bishop, and both of you are protected.” His blue eyes are hard now, calculating. He knows he’s got me cornered, and he’s not backing down. “But if you refuse, if you fight this, then Allie disappears too. Your father loses everything. And you—” He doesn’t finish the sentence, but then again he doesn’t have to.
“I die anyway,” I whisper.
“We both die. Of course, not before watching everyone we care about suffer first.” He shoves out of his seat and moves toward the window. The movement is predatory, restless. “I’m telling you what has to happen. The only question is whether you will cooperate or if I will have to force you every step of the way. That’s the choice. Your choice.”
The manipulation is transparent, offering protection with one hand while threatening with the other. He’s trapped me assurely as if I were still chained to the bed. There isn’t a path I can see that doesn’t lead to pain.
For me. For Dad. For Allie. There’s no good option, only degrees of terrible.
I pull my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them.
The position is familiar, comforting. “What would it mean?” I ask finally, my voice small. “To be married to you?”
Calder moves closer, cautious. Like he knows I’m a wounded animal that might bolt at any sudden movement. “It would mean you’re mine. Under Bishop protection. Part of the family. No one touches you.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.” I force myself to meet his cold blue eyes. “Would you expect—-” my voice trails off, my cheeks growing warm. “Would this be a real marriage?”
Understanding dawns in his eyes. “Are you asking if I’d force you to fuck me?”
My cheeks heat to the temperature of the sun. Does he have to be so brash? I nod, afraid of what my voice might sound like if I say the words.I need to know.I need to understand the full scope of what will be expected of me. The memory of last night flashes through my mind—how my body awoke under his touch even though it was against my will.
Would it be so bad if he wants sex?
“No,” he says firmly. “I’d never force you. What happened yesterday—that was different. That was me being a bastard who couldn’t resist touching you. I wouldn’t take what I’ll entice you to give me willingly.”
I scoff but don’t comment. “Then whatwouldyou expect from me?”
“Cooperation. In public, you play your part. Make people believe we’re together by choice. That you want to be my wife.” He watches my reaction carefully. “I can’t imagine it will be easy to act as if you love the man who kidnapped you.”
At least he admits it. At least he’s not pretending this is anything other than what it is, coercion wrapped in the illusion of choice.
“Not really, no.” I swallow around the ball of anxiety forming in my throat.
He crouches down in front of me, his eyes level with mine. Up close like this, I can see the exhaustion etched into his skin, see the tension in his jaw. Even though he hasn’t said it, it’s clear this is weighing on him.
“I can’t promise that I’ll be a good husband. Can’t promise not to be jealous or possessive or demanding. I’m a man after all, and you’re a beautiful woman. It won’t be easy. It’ll be really hard, and you might come to hate me, but I promise, Saint, if you do this, I will keep you safe. I will give you whatever freedoms I can within the bounds of our marriage, and I will never force you into my bed.”
“Until I want you to.” I roll my eyes. “That’s what you mean to say.”
There’s no missing the hunger and lust in his eyes. “Exactly, and at some point, you’ll accept the truth for what it is. Either way, no matter what, that will be your choice to make.” The air between us is charged, electric.
I can feel his lips on mine, his fingers touching parts of me that even I haven’t explored. To accept what he’s offering would be a terrible idea, but there are no other options, and time is slipping away.God help me.
What is wrong with me? Why am I even considering marrying the man who threatened and kidnapped me? Never mind the thought of him touching me, and the way my body lit up, begging for more. I can’t make the want, the desire I feel for him, disappear.
My heart, my body, it refuses to forget even when the proof of how terrible and dangerous he is is right in front of me.
