She was already late for practice, due to this morning’s meeting, but I wasn’t rushing to get her anywhere. I’d just arrived the day before, and I knew the truce from the night before was not something guaranteed. She proved it before I left her house. Her entire mood had changed. When the fight rose in her, my body reacted to accommodate it. So times like these, where it was only the two of us, might be rare.
“Your ring is on the wrong finger,” I said casually. I checked my rearview to make sure the men following were close.
“Hmm?” She stopped twisting the ring around her finger when she looked at me.
“Your ring,” I said, motioning to it with my head. “It’s on the wrong finger.”
The entire room had noticed it. Not much slipped past those men. They were designed and built for war, and they took notice of the smallest things that could lead to dangerous things.
A ring on the finger of one of their own—a woman—meant something to them.
It meant someone had the balls to claim her. To give her a piece of jewelry that clearly stated,Taken. It meant,I dare you to try to fuck with what belongs to me. The ring on her finger spoke for me even when I wasn’t around.
It was on the wrong fucking finger, though. Right now, it meant,I’m being stubborn and denying this because I’m scared. I couldn’t deny the warmth that had rushed into my chest, though, when I’d seen it. It was better than her keeping it in the box.
“Despite my feelings, I still...likeyou enough to want to keep you alive,” she said. “My father would do irreparable damage if this ring was on this finger.” She lifted her left hand and showed me her bare ring finger.
My eyes glanced at it from the side. I nodded. “Already taken care of.”
“What?”
“You look shocked.”
“Ohh,” she drew the sound out. “Maybe because I am! Because I had NO idea! When did this happen?”
“Around your eighteenth birthday. I arranged a meeting with your parents. I told them of my intentions.”
“You asked my father for my hand in marriage?”
“No,” I said, trying not to laugh at how wide her eyes were. “I didn’t ask him for anything. I told him. I refuse to ask anyone for what belongs to me. It was done out of respect. Nothing more.”
Her head hit the window, thumping against it, and she was muttering things in French.
“What did he say?” she muttered after a few seconds.
“Ask him.”
“Oh, I will,” she said. I’d never known her to argue with her father, but I had a feeling she was going to have a lot to say about this.
After a few minutes of staring out of the window, she started to squirm. I could tell she was preparing for whatever she was about to say. She slipped the ring off and placed it on her left hand, ring finger.
My heart did this weird fucking thing where it felt like we’d hit a dip. We hadn’t. I double checked. But then I slowed my reaction, because nothing was ever that easy when it came to Mia.
The moment she got her feelings in order, she squared her shoulders and lifted her head, giving me that defiant chin. I’d seen the look on her mamma before.
“I have a proposition for you.”
“You do, ah?” My eyes lifted behind the sunglasses. This was going to be fucking good. “Let’s hear it.”
“I—I will marry you. Only if—”
“If,” I repeated.
“Ifyou leave.”
“Where am I going?”
“Away. Anywhere.” She waved a hand. “But—”
