“I want to know where you are at all times. I’d prefer a tracker you can wear. I don’t trust you to always have your phone on you.”
Catriona snorts. “Like hellthat’sgoing to happen.”
“I guess when I said negotiations, I should have said requirements. Because this is nonnegotiable.”
“You can put a leash on me over my dead body, O’Connor.”
“I’m not going to compromise on your safety,pet. I hope you don’t ever need it, but it’s imperative that you’re safe. My world is an ugly one, and this will bring peace of mind. Didn’t we just have a conversation about how my boss is going to be pissed when he finds out about this? Do you want to end up at the bottom of Lake Pontchartrain?”
“Your peace of mind is my last priority. I don’t care who you are. You’re not putting a tracker on me. There has to be another way to keep me safe. I’ll carry a taser. Or get a gun.”
Heat surges through me at the thought. “Oh, I can teach you if you like.”
“Not a chance.”
I hide my smile behind another sip of coffee. “Grand. But if you aren’t going to use a tracker, then you’ll at least allow bodyguards. They’re discreet and well-trained.”
“No,” she says flatly.
“I’m being quite flexible here. You’re coming out on top in every way. All I’m asking is this one little thing.”
“To let you stalk me.”
“At least I’m informing you ahead of time,” I say, lifting my hands. “But it’s the tracker, the bodyguards, or I lock you in this house. You choose.”
“Fine, I’ll take the fucking bodyguards,” she snarls. “But you'd better hope you have some bodyguards of your own, because you’ll be lucky if I don’t kill you myself.” Before I can agree, she holds up a hand. “But I want separate bedrooms.”
“No way in?—”
“I’m not going to sleep with you, and I’m not going to sleep on the floor. Separate bedrooms, O’Connor, or I swear, I’ll hide somewhere you can’t find me.”
We both know that’s not possible, but all I wanted was the bodyguards, so I say, “Fine. Your own room. I’ll have Frances set one up next to mine. Children—what do you say?—”
“I say no way in fucking hell would I ever consider procreating with you.”
“Not even?—”
“There’s nothing you could offer me that would make me consider it.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Are we forgetting that you almost married mysisteryesterday? I’m pretty fucking sure.”
“So you’re saying you would have considered it if I’d agreed to marry you when you asked?” My voice comes out low, unintentionally, and her eyes darken.
“Don’t twist my words.”
I let the moment linger, then say, “Fine. I reserve the right to renegotiate this later. It makes sense for you to focus on your career first.”
“We aren’t renegotiating anything. I’m never going to have kids with you.” A pause. “You mean you aren’t going to make me stay at home and be the perfect Mafia wife?” You could cut glass with the amount of sarcasm in her voice.
“What makes you think I’d stop you from pursuing your career?”
“I don’t know? My general understanding of who you are as a person?”
Ignoring her, I say, “Then again, you’ve been having trouble with your classes, haven’t you? I’ll worry about your career interfering when you’re not in jeopardy of getting kicked out.”
She jerks away, the china rattling on the table. “How do you know about that? What—Jesus.” Placing both palms in front of her, she speaks slowly and clearly. I’m definitely not luxuriating in how good it feels to see her stunned. “You’ve been, what? Stalking me? Looking into my family? That stops now. You have your bodyguards, but I draw the line at you infiltrating every aspect of my life.”
