“I told you, I would run.”
“And I told you, I would find you.” His tone was dark. “You know this is where you belong, Gianna.”
I’d never been fond of leaving, but I did know I couldn’t willingly go back into another marriage to a man I didn’t know. I only understood the edges of Christian, not the deep, dark center that made him, and until then, I’d never truly know him. But now that the shock had settled, I realized I didn’t hate the idea of marrying him. That sent a prickling sense of anxiety through me; it showed me how deeply I was under his spell. I loved him. And I feared what I would forfeit just to be with him.
I swallowed. “Proposals usually come with rings and bended knees. Sometimes, a nice dinner.”
“We both know, that would have made you panic.”
When did he learn so much about me while I remained in the dark about him? Bitterness bit at my chest. Why couldn’t he just open up to me? Was I not good enough? Too lowly?
“I wasn’t lying when I told you I wouldn’t marry again.”
“Things change, malyshka.”
I would have laughed if someone had told me Christian Allister would ask me to marry him just a few weeks ago. I would’ve never been able to fathom what it felt like to fall for someone, to care about them so much it hurt. Things had changed. I used to hate him, but now, I couldn’t imagine being happy without him.
“Why?” It rushed out of me, my eyes burning with emotion. “Why do you want to marry me?”
His jaw ticked in thought. “Some people might see you . . . differently by being with me unmarried.”
My heart dipped and squeezed in disappointment. This was all about appearances? I guessed I should have known.
“I don’t care how people see me.”
“I do,” he growled. “I don’t want anyone to think you mean less to me than you do. You might not see it now, but eventually, it’ll get to you, Gianna, and you’ll resent me for it.”
Maybe what he was saying was true. But, in the end, how much could I really mean to a man who refused to share with me the basic facts of himself? Who didn’t trust me? Who grew distant and closed off at the simplest questions?
“I can’t marry another man I don’t know.”
His voice was rough, dipped in something sharp. “I’ve told you more about myself than I’ve ever told anyone else.”
“That’s not a good enough reason for me to marry you, Christian.”
“Fine.” He shook his head, his eyes flashing with darkness. “How about because I love you, Gianna? Because I think I have since the moment I saw you? Because if you weren’t in this world anymore, I would find a way to take myself out of it?”
My heart stopped.
Went cold.
And then lit with fire.
We stared at each other, silence and the vehemence of his voice touching my skin with rough fingers.
“You don’t mean that,” I breathed.
“I meant every goddamn word I said.”
The pressure in my chest grew so tight it brought a rush of tears to my eyes. The only other person who had ever told me she loved me was my mother. And now, it felt like a light had popped and burst inside me, filling me with something warm, sticky, and possibly heartbreaking.
Indecision pulled me in two different directions. I wanted to give in so badly I ached. But the part of me who’d felt isolated, alone, unworthy in my past marriage stood firm in my decision. If I married him now, gave him all the cards, I’d never win. He would never give me more when he didn’t have to. I could see it in his eyes: full of fire but steady with conviction.
“I won’t marry another man I don’t know,” I said quietly.
His teeth clenched.
I gave him a chance to fill the silence between us.