Page 44 of Corrupted Bride

“Sit. We’ll talk.”

“How about you come over here and stop being weird?”

I grimace and glare at her. “Because if I stand, you’re going to see how fucking hard I am right now after getting a glimpse of your tits,” I snarl softly.

“Oh.” Her eyes go wide and she glances at my crotch. Likely remembering my size. “Right. Not something you can hide, huh?”

“No, it’s not. Now come sit.”

She hesitates but takes a chair across from me. She crosses her arms over her chest as I draw more breaths. I’m very far from calm as I lean forward, elbows on my knees, our faces at eye-level across a coffee table.

“We aren’t sharing a room,” she says flatly. “I don’t care how hard you are right now.” Her lips curl slightly.

“Stop that, woman, before I lose what’s left of my self-control.” I scrape a hand across my face. “I want to offer you a deal. We can make this situation work for both of us if you’d listen.”

That gets her attention. She sits up straighter. “How’s that?”

“You want freedom. Don’t give me that look. You tried very, very hard to build an escape plan, and it almost worked. Only instead, you’re here.”

“Thanks for reminding me.”

My pulse slows and I settle back in my seat. This is where I’m comfortable. I’m not sitting in my bedroom with my beautiful, angry wife. No, I’m at the table hashing out a deal, something I’ve done a thousand times as the Don of the Serafino. This I can handle.

Being a husband? That’s something new.

“I can give you what you want.”

Her eyes narrow. “Bullshit. You need me.”

“Not forever.” I hold up a hand to keep her from interrupting. “Our marriage is meant to bind our families together, but eventually, this business will do that even better than we ever could. Once we’re in deep enough, you and me won’t matter anymore.”

She frowns in thought. “You really think so? My uncle probably expects babies.”

“We can provide if you’re interested.”

“I’m on birth control.”

“Then we can enjoy the act without the consequences.”

Her cheeks turn pink. “Still hard?”

“Getting there again.”

She looks at the ceiling and lets out a breath. “Alright, so you need the marriage for a while.”

“Ten years. By then, we won’t matter anymore. If you can play my wife for ten years⁠—”

She shakes her head, face pale. “Jesus. Ten years? I’ll be thirty-two. You want me to start over then?”

I smile ruefully. “You’re right. That’s ancient. I’m older than dirt. It’s a miracle I can still get it up.”

“That’s not what I mean!”

“Ten years and ten million dollars plus whatever documents you need to disappear. You can go anywhere. Do anything. Be anyone at all. I’ll make it happen.”

She scoffs, looking around like she’s trying to find hidden cameras. “This has to be some kind of joke. You can’t give me ten million dollars.”

“Right now? No, probably not without consequences. But that’s the point of this deal I have with your family. By then, we will all be so filthy rich that nobody will care about our marriage anymore.” I lean forward, pinning her still with my gaze. “I mean it, Mari. I’ve spent my life trying to take care of my family. I haven’t always been successful—” I pause and push away an ugly memory in the shape of an old woodshed. “But I try my hardest.”