“I can’t change how we met, or my earlier actions, but I promise to protect you with my life,” he says softly.
I’ve been kidnapped, drugged twice, kept in a dungeon with an area rug, interrogated in a kill container, eaten to the bone in a sex club, and transported with a pillowcase and a Lunchable. If Vin Diesel pulled up in a Nissan and told me we’re riding to Sea World for family, I’d get one of my scarves and call shotgun. At this point, nothing surprises me.
Except for the way Benny looks at me.
How he considers me and supports my goals.
His desire to protect me with a just in case marriage in his back pocket.
“Okay,” I say.
“Andrea will make a new identity for you to review. You’ll have the final say before he—“
“We’re getting married.”
The backyard stills. I wait for my conscience to kick in, but Jiminy Cricket must be off to lunch or lighting up from the same stash I found.
Benny blinks once. Then twice. “I—excuse me, what?”
Why am I so calm?
“That fail-safe? I’mma need it as a shield now. I don’t play about my life, so consider yourself voluntold about those nuptials.”
I stare longer than intended, because high, and wait. Benny swallows hard, but eventually nods.
“We’ll get married this weekend,” he says.
I squint to do the math. Still high.
“In four days, you’ll be my wife.” Benny’s voice is low, smooth.
I let out a breath. “I need to make a phone call.”
“Bitch?”
“Bitch!”
Benny jumps at Stephanie’s squeal through the speakerphone. The acoustics in his study carry. It’s the size of the New York Public Library.
“Girl, I thought you got kidnapped and were on somebody’s black market,” Steph whines.
“You’d be correct,” I say.
“What?!”
“Bianca,” Benny warns from the other side of his desk.
I raise a brow. “Where’s the lie?”
“I’m calling Vince.”
“No!” Benny and I yell.
“Let me find out you were running for your life for real,” Stephanie snaps. “It’s nothing for Vince to get out there and extract you.”
“Vince’s hip won’t make it past security,” I snort. “I promise I’m safe.”
“He’s not forcing you to respond?”
