Page 10 of Twisted Temptation

"You want me to marry you," Sunny says, and her voice is flat with disbelief. "A complete stranger."

"Yes."

"A complete stranger who just told me he came here to murder my father."

"I appreciate the recap, but yes."

Her hands ball into fists at her sides, and I fucking like it.

"You're insane," she mutters. "I am not marrying you.”

“Is that a fact?”

She storms over to me and has to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact because I tower over her. This close, I can see that the fury in her eyes has completely eclipsed any fear she was feeling.

Christ, if she could harness all this rage and passion, she’d be unstoppable. All five-foot-two of her.

She glares up at me. “I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on Earth and the survival of the human race depended on it."

"That seems excessive."

Anyone else, and I would end the disrespect with a bullet. Or at the very least, with my hands around their throat. But verbal sparring with this firecracker is the most fun I’ve had in months. Hell, years.

"Excessive?" Her voice pitches up. "You broke into our house⁠—"

"The door was open."

"You threatened my father⁠—"

"Your father stole from me."

"And now you think you can just, what? Claim me? Like I'm some kind of payment? Like I'm property you can take because someone owes you money?"

"That is exactly what I think," I say.

She looks at me, dumbfounded. "You can't be serious."

"I am deadly serious," I say, emphasizing the word deadly. I take a step closer. "You need to understand that I am offering you and your father a get-out-of-jail card. You marry me, and your father lives. His debt disappears. And all it costs is a ring on your finger."

"All it costs." She repeats the words back to me with so much venom I can taste it. "Do you actually hear the words coming out of your mouth right now?"

"I hear them fine. You seem to be the one struggling."

"Oh, I'm not struggling. I'm very clear on what's happening here. A man on a power trip is trying to force me into a marriage I don't want as payment for a crime I didn't commit. That's not a deal. That's…" She searches for the word.

"An opportunity?" I offer.

"A hostage situation."

"Semantics."

"It's not semantics. It's a felony."

She's magnificent. The anger. The sharp tongue. The refusal to cower even though her pulse is visible at the base of her throat, and her hands haven't stopped shaking since she walked into this room.

I've met men twice her size who couldn't hold eye contact with me for more than three seconds. She hasn't looked away once.

"I'll give you a moment to think about it," I say.