He leans back; his arms crossed over that broad chest, I can still feel pressed against me. The memory sends warmth spreading through my ribcage, unwanted and inappropriate. His gaze sharpens like he knows exactly what I'm thinking.
"You need protection, you hire a bodyguard." His voice is controlled, careful, the way bomb squads talk to explosives. "You don't propose marriage."
"I don't need a bodyguard." I pull out the folded copy of Dad's will from my purse, smoothing it on his desk with shaking fingers I can't quite control. "I need a husband. Before my thirtieth birthday. That's in less than two and a half months."
He doesn't look at the paper. "Why me?"
"Because you're dangerous." The words tumble out fast, rehearsed in my head a hundred times during the sleepless nights since he left my bed. "Because Uncle Matthew and Cal Reznick and everyone circling my inheritance like vultures are scared of you. Because you can't be bought, bullied or manipulated."
"And you think you can manipulate me into this?"
"I'm not trying to manipulate you." Liar. I'm absolutely trying to manipulate him, and we both know it. "I'm offering a business arrangement."
Danger flashes across his face. He stands, moving around the desk with that predatory grace that makes my heartbeat stutter. He's wearing dark jeans and a black henley that stretches across his shoulders, and I have to force myself not to stare at theway his muscles shift under knit fabric like violence wrapped in cotton.
"A business arrangement?" He stops in front of me, near enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. I can see the silver threading through the dark hair at his temples. "Like the other night was business?"
My face burns. "That was different."
"Was it?" He braces his hands on the armrests of my chair, caging me in. The scent of him invades my space, cedar and danger. "Because it felt pretty fucking personal when you were screaming my name against that window."
My lungs forget how to work. "Sergei?—"
"You want to buy me." His voice drops lower, rougher, like gravel dragged across skin. "That's what this is. You're offering money for a ring and a signature."
"No." I force myself to hold his gaze, even as my heart slams against my ribs hard enough to bruise. "I'm offering protection. You protect me from my family's schemes, and I give you stability. Credibility."
His jaw clenches. "I don't need credibility."
"You need it for Mila." The words hit their mark. I see it in the way his shoulders go rigid, the flicker of raw pain in his eyes. "Your ex-wife wants full custody. She thinks you're unstable, dangerous. But a married man with a respectable wife from old money? That changes the narrative."
"You've been digging."
"I'm good at research." I stand, forcing him to step back or touch me. My knees feel unsteady, but I lock them, refusing to show weakness in front of a predator. "Elena can't paint you as reckless if you're married to a Davenport. The courts will see stability, commitment, and a family."
Silence stretches between us like a wire pulled taut. I watch emotions war across his face. Anger. Calculation. Interest.
His hand comes up, thumb brushing my jaw, and a jolt rockets down my spine.
"This is a terrible idea," he says.
"I know."
"You're going to regret it."
"Probably." I lean into his touch before I can stop myself, before I remember I'm supposed to be in control here. "But I'm out of options. My mother wants me to marry that pig Cal Reznick. My uncle is circling like he's already won. And I think—" My voice cracks. Fractures. "I think they killed my father."
His eyes sharpen into blades. "Explain."
So I do. The boat explosion that doesn't make sense, the perfect timing of the will clause, Mother's lack of surprise, Uncle Matthew's eagerness to control my inheritance. By the time I finish, Sergei's expression has gone cold and deadly.
"You need real protection," he says. "Not just a husband."
"I need both." I straighten my spine, channeling every ounce of Davenport steel I inherited, along with the blue eyes and the blood money. "I won't let them win. I won't let them take what my father built and twist it into something ugly."
"And you think marrying me solves this?"
"I think marrying you gives me the weapon I need." I meet his gaze head-on, refusing to flinch. "You scare them. That's what I need. Someone they can't predict or control. Someone who'll stand between me and their schemes long enough for me to destroy them myself."
