Chapter 12
2856words
I should have kept the knife.
That's all I can think about as I rip the green dress from my body, throwing it onto the floor of the bedroom like it's a useless rag. It joins the discarded heels, the only shoes I have since they're the ones I arrived in. Layla was prescient enough to bring me a few pairs of underwear along with the dress. But now, thinking about that kindness makes me angrier.
She knew I'd need clean clothes because she's in on the plan to keep me here. It's easy to be mad at her. She's what set Asher off when I was trying to probe him for information. He picked up on how I was subtly leading him into talking about himself. He's not an easy man to trick.
Remembering how I attacked Asher doesn't bring me joy. In hindsight, it was a stupid move. Because he's right. If I'd managed to hurt him, or worse, kill him … What would have happened to me? Somehow, I doubt his men would have just let me waltz out after I killed their boss.
And if he's telling the truth about Yannick, killing him means losing the only protection for me and Mom.
But I meant what I said. I hate him. All his efforts to tame me into being his little pet while he does whatever he wants with my life just make me angrier. Covering my eyes, I sit on the floor next to my shoes.
'I have no friends here," I whisper. 'What am I supposed to do?" Is it time to call Adriana? I've been tempted more than once. Alone in my room I have endless opportunities, but I'm not positive it's smart. Heck, I'm still not sure if all of this isn't some elaborate trap.
Involving Adriana might put her in danger. Asher can easily use her against me the way he's using my mom. It's infuriating to have access to my phone but not be able to make it useful.
Shivering as my adrenaline fades and reality sets in, I place my head on my knees. My stomach rumbles loudly. I'm a reckless idiot ... a hungry reckless idiot.
There's no knock; my door simply swings open. Asher's long shadow enters a second before he does. Lifting my eyes, I stare at him in shock. I'm wearing nothing but my undergarments. The only reason he can't see anything is because of how I'm huddled in a ball on the ground. 'Excuse me!" I gasp. 'I'm not decent!"
His eyes rake over me. 'I'd argue otherwise." From behind his back he reveals a small plate; on top of it is a pair of carefully stacked chocolate chip cookies. The big thick kind you need two hands to hold while eating as they crumble from their own weight. 'It's a shame you skipped out on dinner. But I figure you don't want to miss out on dessert."
My mouth tingles as I salivate. 'I'm fine." I'm not fine I'm not fine oh God I want those cookies!
Asher lifts an eyebrow, then crouches in front of me. Lowering the plate, he gives it a nudge until it's next to my foot. It reminds me of when zookeepers feed dangerous animals.
The scent wafting off the fresh cookies is agonizing. 'The chef will cry if you don't try them. He lives for feedback," he says.
Swallowing loudly, I stare helplessly at the cookies. I know I need to eat. Starving myself is self-sabotage. 'Well … I don't want to make anyone feel sad."
He smirks evenly. 'How kind of you."
My hand snaps out, grabbing the top cookie. I bring it to my mouth impatiently, taking a deep inhale of the sugary chocolate scent. I want to take a nibble, but my body demands a mouthful, my teeth sinking into the gooey insides of the treat. Like an exaggerated commercial meant to sell the cookies, I roll my eyes in my head. 'Ohff my gahd," I mumble around the food.
'I know," he chuckles. 'I ate three already."
Licking the melted chocolate from my thumb, I keep a careful eye on Asher. He's watching me closely, but not in a lecherous way. His attention is on my face instead of my bare legs or cleavage. I don't know how he's resisting. He doesn't have to, and there was a moment when he had me pressed against the table that I felt his cock stiffen. And besides, why does he care if I think he's a perv? Maybe he doesn't find me attractive. And I'm not sure that if the tables were turned, I'd behave as well as he is right now. 'Turn around," I say.
His smile fades. 'Why?"
'Relax. I didn't sneak any weapons in here; there'll be no round two. I just want to put on a bathrobe."
Asher dwells on the situation before shifting until he's facing the door. 'Be quick about it."
Climbing to my feet, I sprint to the attached bathroom, grabbing the lavender robe from its hook. Shoving my arms in the sleeves, I belt it into place. 'Okay," I say, sitting back on the floor. 'It's safe now."
'I never felt like I was in danger," he says mockingly. Facing me again, he puts his hands on his muscular thighs. He's still wearing the outfit from dinner, though the jacket is gone. The dress shirt beneath hugs his biceps, the vest tailored to fit his wide chest and tapered middle. The golden tie would look silly on anyone else, but on Asher, all I can notice is how it brings out the bronze undertones of his skin. 'I'm glad you like the cookies."
Finishing the first, I start to make quick work of the second. 'You didn't come up here just to bring me these, did you?"
'You're right." His smile is mysterious. 'I had something else I wanted to talk about."
'Is this what you were about to tell me at dinner before I tried to bleed you out?"
Asher tenses up at that. Does he realize I'm goading him? I can't help it; something about him brings out a desire to be difficult. What's strange is … I think, on some level, he enjoys it almost as much as I do.
Why else would he bait me the same way I'm baiting him?
Maybe we just hate each other. It could be as basic as that. Though, what reasons he would have to hate me are a mystery. My reasons, meanwhile, are obvious.
'The dinner was supposed to be a chance for us to get to know each other."
'Really?" I mock. 'Because when I asked you questions, you thought I was doing something sneaky."
'You were," he replies bluntly. 'I don't blame you though. Camila, I thought about your situation?—"
'My situation," I repeat in a tight voice.
'You're living with me." He lifts his head higher, studying the bedroom. 'The next step seems natural."
'I'm not following."
'We should get married."
The laughter that explodes out of me is so abrupt that flecks of cookies leave my mouth. Covering my lips, I struggle to control the noise. It's impossible though; what he just said is the funniest thing I've ever heard.
Wiping at my eyes, I study his face, waiting for him to start laughing as well. Asher is stoic. He doesn't budge an inch, not in his expression or in his limbs.
All the humor inside me fades away. 'Oh my God. You're serious."
My skin grows clammy under the bathrobe. I start to rise, but I have to grip the bedpost—dizziness makes it impossible to stand. The fibers in my muscles demand fight or flight, not caring that I'm losing my balance. Stuck between collapsing or jumping out of my own skin, I cling to the bedframe.
Marriage. No. No way.
I'd never get married to someone like Asher! But it's more than that. I don't want to get married at all. Not after …
My mind tangles up with awful memories. Things that linger like flecks of glitter, popping up no matter how hard you work to sweep the mess away.
'Camila?"
My vision shrinks to a pinprick. 'You're insane. Straight up insane."
'I've thought that myself, many times, in fact. But in this case, I'm clear-headed. Marry me, Camila."
The rush of anxiety threatens to pull the ground out from under me. 'Never!"
'You seem to be under the impression that I'm asking. I'm not. I'm telling you to marry me."
Lifting my head, I watch him with blatant distaste. 'If you're going to force me, why bother with the pretense of acting like what I say matters?"
'Because this will go much smoother if we're on the same page."
That takes the winds from my sails. Asher is watching me patiently. It's the same way he watched me when we had drinks, with that built-in knowledge he's going to get his way. He's good at reading people—I want that ability. Studying his hands lying flat, relaxed, on his thighs … how there's not a single wrinkle of worry on his perfect face … I start to piece the puzzle together.
'This has to do with Yannick, doesn't it?" I ask. Nothing else could explain a proposal out of the blue.
Asher holds my gaze evenly from where he sits on the floor. 'Everything has to do with him."
'Hearing you confirm it doesn't make me feel better." Wiping my brow, I manage to finally stand on both feet. Asher rises to follow me. He remains where he is, not coming closer as I grip the bedpost. The cookies sit heavily in my belly. There's a chance I'll vomit them up. 'This is crazy. I can't marry you; you're a stranger."
'You don't need to know me, Camila. All you need is to understand that this is the only way to ensure your safety … and your mother's."
'You keep moving the goalposts," I whisper. 'First it was just staying here. Now it's becoming your wife. What changed?"
A quick tick of annoyance causes his neck to pull tight. 'Everything is a struggle with you, Camila. If I say this is something you must do, that should be enough."
'You might be the pakhan of the Grachev Bratva, but I'm not one of your brainless soldiers. I have my own willpower. I make my own decisions," I state frankly.
His nostrils flare like a bull ready to charge. 'Life would be much easier if you had the discipline to obey me as they do. How many times must I repeat myself that everything I'm doing is for your safety? For your mother's as well. If I didn't know better, I think you'd be happy if I threw you at Yannick's feet like a Christmas present."
'Of course I don't want that," I say exhaustively. 'I'm just struggling to understand how becoming your wife helps your plan to defeat him."
His shoes scuff lightly over the carpet. How can a man so big move so silently? He's close enough that, when I look down at his hands by his belt, I can see all the fine details of the skull tattoos on his knuckles grinning at me. 'The marriage won't be real. The Bratva would never stand for someone in my position marrying a woman like you," he sneers.
I bristle, offended by his casual way of cutting me down. 'Screw you."
'Oh, now that you know you don't qualify as marriage material, you're mad?" He chuckles darkly, flustering me further. 'It's all an act. Are you afraid of playing pretend with me, Camila?"
Using all the energy and focus I have, I lock my knees, tightening my core. I have to be strong to bargain with Asher, or he'll roll over me in a blink. 'We'll know it's not real … Your soldiers will know it's not real … But everyone else will believe the ruse?"
'Exactly."
My jaw opens slightly in surprise. 'You want Yannick to think we're in love." My brain races, warring with my heart, which is already at Maximusum speed. 'That's your goal! Why do you think he cares about that? What are you hoping he'll do once he learns about the wedding?"
Asher's fingers ball into fists before he flexes them open again. 'The less you know, Camila, the better it will be."
I don't believe that for a second. With my mind in a jumble, I consider my situation from a newer, fuller angle. He's trying to make Yannick do something. What can it be? Chewing the inner corner of my lip, I decide, unfortunately, that the reason doesn't matter. Not now. Asher isn't going to let me say no to marrying him. But he does want me to go along peacefully. That means I can force his hand a bit with some tit for tat. 'I want proof that you're making sure my mother is all right."
His eyes light up curiously. 'Now you're talking like someone who wants to conduct business. I'm shocked you waited until now to ask for proof." From his pocket he withdraws his phone. Passing it to me, he makes a small circular motion with his hand in the air. 'Scroll through those video clips, or go straight to the live view if you like."
'Live view?" I whisper. With a mix of relief and horror, I watch the screen. On it is a small video with a red dot, indicating what I'm seeing is either happening now, or a very good fake.
'That's my mom!" Gasping, I push my face closer until my nose smudges the surface. She's in the studio's front room. I'm not sure what she's doing; putting things in boxes?
She's packing everything away. Watching her clean up my childhood, preparing for Asher to bulldoze it into dust, all without me there for support, is like razors in my chest. I stare for another few seconds, but it's too painful.
I return the phone to him, and I consider what I want to say. 'You're really making sure she's safe."
'Yes."
'Well, why can't you do that for me?"
'I told you. The less you know, the better it will be."
'But she's out there!"
'And nobody has touched her. Confirming my suspicion this has more to do with you than her. I am a man of my word, and my men will never let her out of their sight."
Running my tongue over my bottom lip, I meet his piercing stare. 'You're going to kill Yannick, yes?"
'Yes."
'And once that's done, you'll let me go." It doesn't come out as a question. I can't let it be.
I hold my breath until Asher inclines his head. 'Once I see Yannick's life drain from his eyes, you'll be free to go. I promise."
It's a challenge to get enough air into my lungs. Each breath is shallow, painful, like I'm swallowing gravel. 'Then … yes. I'll agree to marry you." My lips make the shape of the words, but they come from far away. Asher hears them; I know, because he reaches into his vest pocket. From the depths of it he slips out a silver ring with a massive diamond on top. It's encrusted along the curves with smaller ones. It must've cost a fortune.
He doesn't kneel. He doesn't ask permission. He takes my left hand, spreads my fingers, then glides the comically luxurious ring up and over my knuckle. His touch is solid, and he holds on to my hand as he speaks. 'We'll pick out a dress tomorrow."
It's good that I'm still gripping the bedpost, because my knees sway weakly. 'So soon?"
'We don't have much time." Asher gives me a sly smile before releasing my hand. The heat of his contact lingers. 'Get some rest. You look paler now than when you tried to stab me earlier."
I don't have a good comeback. The fact is, trying to kill him was easier than accepting his proposal. His footsteps clip around, I vaguely notice the way he bends down, picking up my empty cookie plate. I don't see him leave because I'm busy gawking at the ring. I know he's gone when the door closes. Even then, I do nothing but gaze at the diamond.
Something like this … If I sold it, it could pay off the debt on the studio. His wealth has surrounded me since I met him, but I never considered I'd have access to it. I bet I could pretend to lose the ring and he'd simply give me another one.
Being with Asher might be more beneficial than I expected.
Don't forget who and what he is! The man is a killer! He's only doing this to get rid of Yannick, not because he wants to help you!
Yes. I have to remember what I promised myself the first night.
No matter what happens …
I won't submit to Asher.
An engagement ring won't change that.
