Dragging in a slow breath through my nose, I try to ground myself, but it doesn’t help in the slightest.
The stutter of my pulse isn’t from the earlier chase or from binding her to me. Instead, it stems from the cold, hard fact that I can’t escape: this is a consequence. Direct and unavoidable.
This is what I get for being hasty and diverting from the plan. All that time of being careful and staying one step ahead, pissed away for nothing.
Even having her by my side feels like housing a time bomb.
When I still don’t move, Elena glances back at me, eyes lacking warmth. “What’s wrong with you? Why’d you freeze up?”
I don’t answer right away as every thought circulates through my mind, feeling more damning than the last.
Then, she continues, looking more aware of what this could mean for me than she should be. “It’s almost like you shouldn’t have done this in the first place.”
Her words irk me, but I know she’s right, and the truth is far too ugly for me to want to face.
One impulsive decision forged from spite and questionable instinct put every aspect of my plan on the line. I’ve managed to survive unlikely odds, but never ones like this. Not with a Lukov too close for comfort.
Finally, willing the words to leave me, I murmur, “I didn’t realize who you were.”
Nothing in her expression softens. “That’s hardly comforting.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be. It’s a fact, and relevant.”
“Relevant to you.”
She’s right again.
I straighten with another breath, forcing my shoulders into something neutral and controlled, even if the situation itself feels anything but.
Regardless of how much I’m freaking the fuck out on the inside, if I show any of it, then Elena will see it. She’ll see how screwed I am and not trust me to handle anything. If she’s the plotting type, then she’ll try to use it against me, and I can’t afford that right now.
Turning to face her directly, I try to use whatever confidence I can muster after such a tragic blow to my pride. “I need you to understand something. This…isn’t personal. None of it.”
Elena scoffs, but it’s more incredulous than amused. “You forced me to marry you. That feels entirely personal.”
“Well, it’s not. It was strategic.”
Her brows pinch together. “That’s worse.”
And that’s entirely fair.
With a small step closer, I show my palms in a placating gesture, trying to prove I’m not a threat to her…but still not entirely apologetic either. Those don’t come well to me, and I won’t disrespect her further by pretending regret can fix any of this.
“I did what I did because you are a target for them. One they’re willing to pay absurd money for,” I try to explain without pulling her in too deep. “Because men like the Grimaldis don’t back off unless a bigger predator is standing in the way.”
She lifts a brow at me, almost doubtful. “And what, you’re the bigger predator?”
“In a way, yes.”
“So then what does that make my family?”
“The biggest one.” It hurts a little to admit, but it’s true.
“Annulments are a thing, you know,” Elena mutters, almost with a spark of hope in her eyes at the suggestion. “That would make all of this go away, and you wouldn’t have to worry about being crushed by my brothers, if they’re truly as bad as you say.”
My eyes narrow faintly at that. While she isn’t wrong, and it would be a direct solution to my Lukov blight, it isn’t what I want to do. It doesn’t feel right, even if it should.
“Funny.”
