Page 21 of Ruthless Enforcer

Fourteen-year-old me, who’s had the wedding planned for a decade, would beg to differ.

18

GABRIEL

No.

Absolutely fucking not.

There are bad ideas.

There are catastrophically bad ideas.

And then there’s marrying James Whitlock’s favorite niece hours after kidnapping her.

Apparently, Clara doesn’t see anything wrong here, because she just continues in that cool, collected way she has. “You’re trying to solve this like an enforcer. You’re trying to hide me, hunt Cole, and prove your innocence. But you can’t prove innocence to people who already expect you to be guilty.”

“True,” Luke chimes in.

I spare him a look before returning my attention to Clara. “Go on.”

“You don’t need to convince my uncle that you didn’t take me,” she says, the words coming out crisp, no nonsense, and devastatingly logical. “You need to change the reason why I’m with you. We give them something Turner can’t use.”

“Duchess—"

“Shut up and listen.” She scoots her chair closer, and her knees brush my leg. Her green eyes lock on mine with an intensity that hits harder than a direct blow. “If Turner tells the world you abducted me to extort my family, it’s a federal crime and a declaration of war. My uncle has no choice but to burn your empire to the ground to get me back. But if I didn’t leave with a kidnapper, if I left with the man I chose…”

I stare at her. For the first time since I walked into that museum gala, my brain stalls out on the sheer, reckless brilliance of what she’s suggesting. Part of me is turned on by her evil genius. The other part thinks her idea has a good chance of getting me castrated.

“A marriage.” Mandy starts to laugh, leaning into Hendricks’s shoulder.

“A legal, binding marriage,” Clara corrects, her gaze never leaving mine. “Conducted by a justice of the peace, filed publicly, witnessed, and announced before Turner can do any damage. If we are married, the abduction narrative collapses.”

“Whitlock can’t go to war with the Reyes family over a niece who willingly eloped with their enforcer,” Jake says. “It turns an act of terrorism into a family scandal.”

Grinning like a fool, Luke holds up his hand. “Can I be the flower girl?”

I return my attention to the diabolical woman next to me. “Your uncle will have an aneurysm.”

“My uncle will be furious,” she affirms without blinking. “He’ll probably cut off my trust fund and makes all sorts of threats. But he won’t send three hundred men with rifles into a bloodbath over a married woman who looks him in the eye and tells him she chose her husband.”

I turn my body to face her head-on. Just like that, she’s the only fucking thing in the room—all that bared skin and her midnight garden scent, a sophisticated temptation I wasn’t expecting when I came after her.

For one hot, irrational second, I want to throw her over my shoulder, find the nearest bed, and forget every fucking reason claiming Clara Whitlock is a terrible idea.

Then sanity returns.

Reluctantly.

“Do you have any idea what you’re saying?” I ask, deliberately dropping my voice into that dark, dangerous register that makes grown men look for exits. “You think this is a press release, Duchess? You think you just sign a piece of paper and walk away when Turner is dead?”

“I know what a contract is, Gabriel,” she says calmly.

I want to ruffle that fucking calm and see what it takes to make Clara Whitlock lose control. “Marrying a Reyes isn't an LLC. You take my name, you take the target on my back. We’re trying to keep you safe, not add to the situation.”

“You yourself said I’m safest close to you.” She arches her brow. “Paraphrasing, of course.”

Damn, she’s clever. I try not to show how much I like that. She doesn’t need more encouragement.