The thought of his hands on her makes me seethe. “There is no fucking way you will ever touch that girl while I am alive.”
“Okay, well, if you don’t like that plan, there is another way that might work.”
“What’s that?”
He takes a long sip of his drink. “You understand, Darko, this is not about revenge. It is a concern we have that she may decide to further her revenge at a later date. It would not be inconceivable that she could regularly escape, pick us off one by one, and return to your loving arms.”
“And what do you suggest?”
“Long-term captivity and confinement. In other words…” Roland’s mouth spreads in a smile. “Marriage.”
“Marriage? What would that change?”
“Not just marriage.” Roland shakes his finger at me. “Children. Lots of them. Fill her belly with baby after baby. It is the best and most effective way to destroy a woman.”
He really is an asshole. But I knew that already. I say nothing, as he says more than enough for us both.
“Put some babies in her and within months she will be helpless. Big, swollen. At your mercy. And then once the baby is born she will be bloodied and broken, and the thing will scream all night. Then put another one in her. And another. She’ll love them because she won’t have a choice. She’ll fear for them like she has never feared for herself. A decade will go by and she will hardly notice it. Babies, Darko,” he says, pointing his glass at me. “That’s how you get control.”
“And if I don’t want to marry her?”
“You want to marry her,” he smirks. “That’s the best part of this plan. This is what you want to do anyway. Think of it, Darko, a nice home, a loving wife you can fuck whenever you please, and a gaggle of spawn who think you’re the best guy in the whole gosh darn world.”
He’s a sarcastic fuck, but he’s a smart one, and he’s right. I do want Chloe. Forever. But I never considered myself a family man. I know too much about this dark world to want to put more souls in it.
“Also,” he says casually. “If you don’t marry her, we’ll kill her.”
Glass breaks, splinters fly, wood cracks as I throw myself at Roland and beat the shit out of him, my fists flying fast and hard, meeting his face, his abdomen. My knee finds his crotch, and my shin meets his thigh. I beat him relentlessly, until his nose is broken, his eyes are bruised, and he is gurgling his own blood.
“Don’t you ever threaten her,” I growl, my voice thick with my old accent. Roland is my friend, but I will kill him with my bare hands if I have to. I will do it in an instant if it means protecting Chloe.
“I’m not threatening her,” he says, turning his head to spit a gob of blood onto the floor. “I’m warning you. Marry her. Make her a housewife. A mother. Remove her as a threat. Or we will.”
“Fucking asshole.”
“Yeah, no news there. You want to hit me again, or do you want to go propose to your lovely bride to be?”
I sit back, panting, coated in a spray of my friend’s blood. I’ll give Roland credit, he can take pain and not give a fuck about it. There are no hard feelings from him, even though he knows I hate him in this moment. Emotions slide off the man like water. I don’t think he even recognizes them except as ways to manipulate others. And ultimately, he’s right. None of this is complete until I marry Chloe. Legally, emotionally, physically, I need her to be mine.
“Daa daa da da da dum dum daa da da dum da daa…” He hums the wedding march from the floor, laughing even with his face broken open. “Oh, it’s going to be beautiful. ‘Do you, murderous little wench, take this evil billionaire in holy wedded matrimony?’”
I get up, grab a napkin and throw it at him. “Get out of here,” I say. “Before I fucking kill you.”
He smirks and rises to his feet. “I’ll be checking the wedding announcements with great interest, Darko. You want a toaster for a present? Or a fruit bowl?”
I hate this fucker, but he makes me smile. “Seriously. Get the fuck out.”
Roland gives me a lazy salute and stumbles toward the exit, not quite steady on his feet. I think I might have burst his eardrum. Oh, well.
Chapter Fourteen
Darko
“Is he still here?”
Chloe snaps the question when I go to see her. I’ve changed my shirt and washed Roland’s blood off me. I don’t want the sight of violence to trigger her.
“He’s gone, and in the future, Chloe, you will treat my guests with res—” Ah, fuck it. I can’t bring myself to tell Chloe to respect Roland. “He’s leaving.”