I was only shaking a little.
His dark brown eyes narrowed to thin slits. “Would you like me to escort you off my property? I’d be happy to help you, though you may not appreciate my hospitable ways.”
Trembling where I stood, I bent down and grabbed my suitcase. I made a shooing motion with a shaking hand in his direction. “Move out my way, Mr. Wood. I wasn’t sure what to expect meeting my future husband, but I sure as heck didn’t expect this. Your behavior is humiliating me.”
Brown eyes blinked slowly. “What?”
“I don’t know if I’m not exactly what you wanted, seeing me in person, but you paid a lot of money for this match.” I ducked around the side of him, sliding inside his home, when he stood there like a statue, blinking like a dumbstruck fool. I turned and talked to his back since he hadn’t moved from his frozen position in the doorway. “I would like to start out on a better note than what just occurred.”
Nothing. He didn’t even breathe.
I held out my hand, waiting. “Hello, Alaric. I’m Faith Peyton, your fiancée. It’s lovely to meet you.”
He reared around from his position, all six-feet-two inches of his massive physique looming over mine, and roared, “What?”
“Uh…” I quickly took two steps back.
He hollered, “Is this some kind of a sick joke?”
“No, no.”
“Do you have any idea what kind of hell I’ve been living in lately?” His beer bottle flew across the room with a mighty heave, the brown glass shattering all along his dark wood paneling. The chandelier overhead hanging from the carved beams of the rafters shook as he stepped closer to me. “I can’t handle any more shit blowing up in my life! You need to leave. Now.”
My lips pressed together into a thin line, the words flying out of my mouth automatically—having rehearsed these words today on the boat. “I’m sorry for your loss. Mr. King was a magnificent—”
“Get. Out!” He shoved a sharp finger at the door.
“Okay,” I whispered. “We can try this again tomorrow.”
His dark brown eyes widened incredulously, his entire frame beginning to tremble in fury. His voice was a pure growl, hard to understand. “Are you daft, woman? I am not your fiancé. I have never had a fiancée. And I’m about to lose my shit—even worse than I already have. You don’t want to see me lose my shit.No one does.”
“I’m leaving.” I skittered around him toward the door. “I think there’s been an error with Marriage Match’s service. You obviously weren’t the bidder.”
“Fuck no, I wasn’t.”
I dropped my bag a step from the door and turned around. A coy smile played on my lips. “Or maybe you are, and you’re playing with me. Are you the playful type, Alaric?”
His nostrils flared and his fists clenched at his sides. He was ready to explode, all of his muscles tensed and ready to pounce. “You have until the count of three before I physically remove you from my property.”
I stepped toward him. One step. Two steps.
I whispered, “Play with me, berserker.”
His eyes sharpened on mine. “What did you just say?”
I hummed and swayed my hips, sauntering to stand directly in front of him. My body pressed against his, and I leaned up on my tiptoes. My lips touched the softest mouth ever, and I whispered, “You want me, don’t you?”
His eyes flicked red. Then back to brown.
He shook his head hard, like he was shaking off a thought, and shoved me back a step. Alaric rumbled, “Get the fuck out.”
“But I want to play,” I crooned and dodged his pushing hand. I glanced at him over my shoulder. “Catch me if you can.”
I raced off toward the hallway on the left, my feet taking me on a fast flight past room after room. I laughed merrily when he roared in anger far behind me, back in the entryway.
“You can do better than that!”
A crash thumped behind me.
