“Why?”
“I need something from you.” He admits, those whiskey eyes swirling, holding mine.
“Of course you do.” I sigh and shake my head. “I’m not interested. Please leave.”
“Niamh,” His voice softens, “Please, just hear me out.”
My eyes bounce between his, and despite my better judgement, I widen the door, just enough to let him inside. A breath seems to leave him as he steps past me, removing his hat. I close the door and immediately regret it, the air turns thin with only the two of us in here. I can smell him — that sandalwood and clove scent, earthy, a little woody and spicy and it wraps around me. The man is imposing, standing at least a foot, if not more, over me. He’s wide, with his thick arms and thighs that stretch out those dark denim jeans, and I don’t need to feel his hands to know they’re rough.
“Well,” I press, clearing my throat, “What is it?”
For just a split second, something like nerves come over him and his brows lower while his throat works on a thick swallow. “I need a wife.”
I stare at his stupidly handsome face for a minute, not quite understanding why he needed to tell me that. “Okay?”
He rolls his neck from side to side, clearly uncomfortable.
“I’m not sure what the hell is going on with you,” I step away, “We don’t know each other, I’m not sure why you felt the need to come tell me this so maybe it’s best we just say goodbye now.”
“You’re not understanding,” He groans. “It’s you.”
I think I choke on my tongue, or maybe it’s air, or maybe it’s both because I suddenly cannot breathe as I cough, attempting to bring up a lung. I see him reach out as if to help, but I skirt away from his hand, trying to pull myself together. He is not serious.
Am I being pranked? The man did not just tell me I’m going to be his wife.
“Did you hit your head?” I wheeze. “Do I need to phone someone for you?”
“I have to get married, Niamh, to secure the ranch. You need money. It’s a win-win situation.”
“What? You’re not going to get down on one knee?” I joke because what the hell am I meant to say to that? It’s certainly not yes and more of afuck no.
“If that’s what it takes.” He shrugs and starts to lower. I dart forward, grabbing his shirt to stop him from doing that.
“What the fuck!No. Stop that.”
My hands are curled into the front of his shirt, only an inch between us. He looks down at me, a quirked brow and half smile to greet me as I frown up at him. I release him quickly and almost lose my footing but catch myself on the back of one of the chairs.
“You can’t be serious.” I rush out.
“Trust me, this is the last thing I want to be doing, but I’ve been left with no choice.”
“Okay, well, you’ve knocked on the wrong door, cowboy. There is no way.” My hand slashes through the air.
“I will pay off your debts, in full, as soon as we reach an agreement.” He holds up his hand as if trying to placate me. “And I’ll pay another five hundred thousand at the end of the contract.”
“There are a thousand women in this town more suitable.” My throat feels tight, and is it getting hot in here? I need to crack a window or something. He’s offering a million dollars to marry him. Holy shit.
“They’re not what I need.”
“And just what do you need, Roman?” My knuckles are turning white where I’m squeezing the top of the chair.
“I need someone who isn’t going to fall in love with me.”
“Oh my God, you’re serious.”
“As a heart attack.”
“No.” The word comes out blunt and sharp, a lash that splits the air between us. “Absolutely not.”
