Page 90 of Craig

She balked at the idea.

But he was right. She was making that man define her, and that was unacceptable.

Yes, he had been married six times and would continue that trend because he was a shallow and manipulative idiot. She wasn’t that kind of person, and neither was her brother.

By some miracle, that particular gene, the defection, had skipped by them.

She would never know what the silence was doing to him, never dream that his breath had stopped and the tension was radiating through his body as he waited. He had thrown down the gauntlet, said some pretty powerful demands, but he knew her and how stubborn she could be.

So, he waited on tenterhooks.

“I might be like him.”

“Not a chance.” He released that pent-up breath slowly and felt his shoulders relax.

“I might discover that I don’t like being married to you and want a divorce so I can marry someone else.” Her voice and resolve were weakening and they both knew it.

“I won’t let you. In fact, you’re going to find it hard-pressed to get rid of me. And I’d make you a widow the very day you become a wife to someone else.”

Her eyes flashed as he continued to stare at her mildly.

“That’s not funny.”

“Not meant to be. I happen to be a lawyer; there will be papers drawn up to make this a binding commitment. If you leave for any reason other than death do us part, I’ll take away the building you’re so attached to and make your life a living hell.”

Her eyes flashed even more, and when she tried to drag her hand away, he simply held on.

“You don’t get to threaten me.”

“Did I make it sound like a threat? It’s a promise, one I’m hell-bent on keeping. We stick together through thick and thin. I’m crazy about you. You tie me up in knots. You have my heart, my soul, and body. Everything I am belongs to you.

“It’s a hell of a responsibility, but it is what it is. I’m here to stay, baby. I’m yours all the way. I was thinking we could make a day of it. Go to Vegas, get married in some gaudy chapel. We could spend the rest of the time in a casino, losing or winning money. I’m good at blackjack.

“What’s your favorite mode of gambling?”

Shock had turned to resignation as she continued to stare at him.

“I don’t gamble.”

“That’s going to change.” She jolted when he lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles, his eyes meeting hers.

“Tomorrow good enough?”

“I haven’t decided if-”

“I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“Craig-”

“No.”

Her expression was a study in irritation that had him biting back a smile.

“I have no say in the matter?” she asked in an annoyed tone of voice.

“None.” He kissed her knuckles again.

“I’m head over heels, irrevocably in love with you. You’ve brought life into my previously dull world.”