I start to move toward the door that’ll take me up to my studio, shaking my head as I go. I need to get out of here, but he follows.
“Roman, leave. Right now.”
But he doesn’t, he follows me right up the stairs, his hand slapping out to stop me from shutting the door on his face again. He forces himself inside and pauses, looking around my home.
“You live here?” I can feel the snub in the words, see the disgust on his face. Sure, it’s no sprawling ranch house, but who needs all that space anyway!? This is perfect for me.
“You need to go.”
“Niamh,” He sighs, “Just read the contract.”
“Contract,” I repeat on a squeak. He reaches behind him and pulls out a rolled-up envelope.
“I can help you,” He pleas, “I just need help in return.”
I stare at that envelope like it’s a bomb ready to detonate. MaybeI’mthe one who hit my head because this is surreal. This cannot be real life.
“The answer is no.” I hold his stare, standing my ground.
“Just like that?”
“There is no universe where I agree to marry you, Roman. What the hell are you even thinking?”
“I’m desperate, Niamh.”
“I can see that.”
“Just read the contract.” He places the envelope down on the counter, right next to the bowl of fruit I’d placed there earlier, my name scrawled across the front in blocky letters.
“I’m not reading that.” I tell him flatly.
“You will.” He turns and starts walking toward the door.
“What do you meanI will!?” I grab it and chase after him. “Take it with you.”
He spins on me, and I slap the envelope against his chest.
“Take it with you.” I repeat.
“I will not.”
“Roman!”
“Would it be so terrible?” He cocks his head, eyes roaming over my face softly, slowly. “Being married to me?”
“Yes!” The word hisses from me, and I ignore the way he’s looking at my mouth. I definitely don’t wet my lips or feel the way my stomach tightens. The air around us warms, his eyes on my mouth, his chest a firm, hot brand under my palm.
“Ouch.” One side of his mouth kicks up into a half smile, two lines appearing at the edge of his lips.
“I’m sure that hurts your delicate ego.” I tip up my chin, trying to claw back some of my power as I push away how my body is responding to his proximity.
“My ego is just fine, sweetheart.”
My eyes narrow on him.
“Think about it.” He continues and finally steps back, letting my hand drop away from his chest.
“I won’t.” My voice carries down the stairs, following his retreating form.
