Page 30 of Corrupted Bride

Bass draws out a small black box.

“You want to escape your family. I don’t know why and it doesn’t matter what happened in your past. I think you and me can help each other. I wish you had more of a say in this, but…” He trails off meaningfully.

The ring box remains between us.

“What is that?!” I gesture at it with my glass. Whisky spills over the rim. “What are you talking about?”

“We’re getting married, Marisol. I met with your uncle about it. They’re going to inform you shortly, likely tomorrow, but I wanted to do it first. I feel like I owe you that much. What we have, it doesn’t need to be difficult. I’ll be a decent partner. If freedom’s what you want, you can have it. The car⁠—”

I back away, arms wheeling. Dizziness overwhelms me. The glass tips and the rest of my drink splashes across the floor. He comes over to help but I swipe at him to keep him away. “Don’t touch me.”

“Mari, hey, easy⁠—”

“No, don’t!” I twist from his grasp. He smells like mint and whisky and grass. I love it and I hate it so much it hurts my chest. “This can’t be happening.”

“It’s real.” He opens the box and god, no, please, it’s gorgeous. Massive, studded with diamonds, glittering in the low overhead lighting like a city in miniature. The kind of ring any woman would die to have on her finger.

Only it might as well be a chain around my throat.

“That thing’s freaking insane!” I blurt out, nearly tripping over an armchair. I steady myself and hold a hand straight out. “No, stop it. No closer.”

He listens and remains where he is. Barely an inch away from my outstretched fingers.

“I know this is hard to understand, but it’s the way your family does business. I didn’t ask for it and I likely want it about as much as you do⁠—”

I burst out laughing. His face twists in frustration. “No, you really have no clue, do you?”

“I’m not joking around.”

“God, Bass! I’m the family reject! Don’t you see! You’re my punishment.” I cackle, and yeah, I’ve definitely lost it. My brains are fried, my eggs are cracked, my skull exploded. I’m donezo, ruined, cuckoo bananas. Maybe if he thinks I’m insane, he won’t marry me.

Doubt it though.

“None of that matters to me,” he says firmly and I think he really means it, which only makes me laugh harder. “Would you stop and listen to me?”

“No, no thanks, this is crazy. I’m getting the hell out of here.”

“We need to talk about this.”

“No, thank you! God, you probably think you’re getting some amazing cartel princess, but instead, you’re getting me. I’m the furthest thing from a prize possible!”

“I don’t want a prize,” he snarls but I barely hear. I teeter toward the door, doubled over. My stomach hurts. My skull’s throbbing. The pressure behind my eyes is fantastic.

“They’ll come for you tomorrow,” he calls as I stagger into the hall. He doesn’t follow to the elevator, but his voice chases after. “When they do, don’t fight them. Do you hear me, Marisol? It’s happening, and it can be good or can be bad, and that’s entirely up to you.”

The elevator doors shut and my laughter cuts off abruptly as I sink down to the floor and pull my knees to my chest.

This is crazy. It can’t be real. But nothing about that scene back there makes me think Bass is a practical joker.

My family really did sell me to him, and I don’t even know what they got in exchange.

Not much, I’m betting.

All my life I’ve wanted to escape my name. When I was a little girl, I hated the way the other kids treated me, like they knew to be afraid even at a super young age. As I got older, I became more of a pariah, and the rumors became impossible to shake. My family’s bloodthirsty business practices have haunted me since I was born.

I tried to get away once, but it failed miserably.

I wanted to try again and I’ve been working my ass off putting my plan into motion.