Page 35 of To Tango, with Desire

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

“Oh, well, if Zane asks, then I’ll just go pack my suitcase.”

“Amira!” my mother scolded, gearing up for a lecture.

Zane stepped forward. “Could I speak with Amira? Alone? Just for a few minutes.” He addressed my parents, his tone confident yet conciliatory. How many times had he used it to get his way? The man was not to be trusted.

“Of course,” they both obliged.

Since when did my parents trust a stranger alone with their daughter? Had they all lost their damn minds?

The click of the sliding doors being closed loosened my tongue.

“What the hell, Zane? Is this some kind of joke?”

“No.” He spoke carefully, as if I were a bomb about to explode. It made me even angrier. “Hear me out.”

I shook my head, crossing my arms. All I could hear was the pulsing rush of blood through my ears, threatening to drown out anything this man had to say.

“What could you possibly have to tell me that I want to hear?”

“I came to ask for your hand in marriage.”

I put my hand up, silencing him. I took a minute, processing the words slowly. I repeated them in my head, laboring over each syllable, ensuring that I wasn’t making this shit up.

“Why?”

“Because I want to.”

“Because you want to. Marrying someone isn’t like buying a fucking watch, Zane. You need more than batteries to keep it going.”

“I’m aware of what a marriage entails.”

“Is this about—” I squirmed, stepping closer. I lowered my voice in case my mother was eavesdropping. “Is this about us sleeping together? Is this some misguided attempt at saving my dignity? Some guilty conscience thing? Because if it is, you’re wasting your time. I don’t need your chivalry. In fact, I intend to have sex many times in my future, so please don’t think I’m sitting here regretting our decision.”

Zane moved so fast I could barely draw breath. He gripped my arms, his eyes sparking with anger.

“There will be no other man for you, Amira. No repeat performance of that night. Unless it’s with me. Do I make myself clear?”

My heart thundered in my chest. It wasn’t the lingering warmth in the air that made me break out into a sweat, but the heat of his hands on my bare arms, the way he looked at me with wild possessiveness that—I was ashamed to admit—turned me on.

“You’re deluded if you think I’m going to sleep with you again. You fulfilled your purpose, Zane. We had one night and now we’re done.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

“You had your chance. You chose to leave.”

“Yes, I tried to forget you.”

“That’s not flattering, you know.”

“Let me speak. I tried to convince myself that you were better off without me. That you should have the freedom to explore your sexuality, your relationships, hell, to live your life without getting tied down.”

“Says the man wanting to marry me.”

“I appreciate the irony.”

“So what? You convinced yourself I’d be better off without you and that’s it? Khalas? It’s done?”