She shoots me a small smile, but it feels forced. I don’t blame her considering what I just told her about Sophia. I don’t need to be a mind reader to know how much that upset her. Maybe I shouldn’t have told her.
But considering I’m playing to make her my wife, I don’t intend on starting our marriage by lying to her.
Instead of opening, she shakes her head. “I don’t want to play again.”
“No?” I ask, arching a brow.
“No.” Licking her lips, she meets my gaze, hers determined. “How about we just talk?”
Since I have a very pressing question that I need her to answer, it doesn’t exactly fit my plans. “Hmm,” I muse aloud.
“Come on,” she urges.
“Fine,” I concede, picking up my queen and turning it between my fingers. “But I still want to ask you something. What would you do to achieve those dreams you told me about? To keep the bakery and have a family of your own?”
She blinks, clearly thrown by the change in direction. “I don’t understand the question.”
“It’s simple,” I say, setting the queen down and picking up her fallen king instead. “How far would you go? What would you sacrifice? What lines would you cross?”
She shrugs, genuinely perplexed. “I don’t think about it like that. I just work hard.”
Her answer is so guileless, so devoid of calculation, that I almost laugh. In my world, every dream comes with a price tag, every desire with a ledger of what must be sacrificed to obtain it. Her straightforward approach to life’s ambitions is foreign to me, almost refreshing in its simplicity.
She looks nothing like the women I’ve been with before. Creatures who approached relationships like business mergers. There’s something authentic about Alina Brewer that I find myself drawn to despite every instinct warning me against attachments.
Or perhaps because of those warnings.
“Okay,” I say, setting down the chess piece and looking directly into her eyes. “Would you marry me to see your dreams come true?”
The words hang in the air between us, heavy and unexpected. Her mouth falls open slightly, her eyes widening in shock. For several seconds, she doesn’t move or breathe. She’s a perfect statue of disbelief.
“What?” she finally manages, the word barely audible.
“You heard me,” I say calmly, as if I’ve just asked her to pass the salt rather than proposed a life-altering arrangement. “Would you?Willyou?”
She shakes her head, not in refusal but in confusion. “I don’t… why would you… is this some kind of joke?”
“I never joke about business matters,” I tell her, leaning back in my chair. “And this would be very much a business arrangement.”
“Business?” she echoes, sounding dazed. “What kind of business involves marriage?”
“The practical kind,” I explain, watching her reactions carefully.
She stares at me, still trying to process my words. “What are you talking about?”
“You want to know what’s in it for you?” I ask, a small smile playing at my lips. “As my wife, you could eventually return to your bakery. Not immediately, but in time. Once I know I can trust you, you can do whatever you want. You’d even have financial security. Protection. A home that would actually be yours, not just a gilded cage.”
I pause, watching understanding slowly dawn in her eyes. Then I deliver the line I know will hit hardest.
“And I would give you children, Alina. The family you’ve always wanted.”
Her sharp intake of breath tells me I’ve struck the mark. Her fingers twist nervously in her lap, and a flush spreads across her cheeks.
“You can’t just… that’s not how…” She struggles to form a coherent response.
“Why not?” I challenge. “People marry for worse reasons every day. Financial security. Social climbing. To please their families.” I lean forward, lowering my voice. “At least with me,you know exactly what you’re getting. No false promises. No romantic illusions that will eventually shatter.”
She shakes her head again, more forcefully this time. “You’re serious,” she says after what feels like an eternity. “Oh, God. You’re not joking. I… I don’t know if that’s better or worse.” The last part is muttered to herself.
