Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“By the end of the night, I was a million in the red. Just a complete fucking disaster.”
It was.
It was also a trap.
But why? In whose interest was it to drag this random guy into debt, when he couldn’t possibly ever repay such a large sum? There was no point in doing that, unless one wanted him hurt by the lender.
Which is how Dalton ended up in the basement of the mansion, and if it wasn’t for the messages on his Grindr account he’d be… nothing.
He wouldn’t exist anymore.
“Do you have enemies?” I ask, sliding off my slippers to rest my feet on the ledge stabilizing the table.
He frowns as he’s thinking, so transparent it’s baffling that he says he’s good at poker. I didn’t even need to prod him to tell me the whole story.
“I don’t think so. There’s the odd ex who might be unhappy things didn’t work out, or some guy I beat up when I still did cage fighting, but there’s no one in particular I have beef with. I mean, my landlord hates my guts, but right back at him.”
He’s offering me so much information on a silver platter I struggle to connect it all into a concise picture of Dalton. I can’t help my mind being stuck on “ex”. I want every ex of his dead.
“Well, that’s definitely something to explore. Normally, no one would offer you such a big loan without checking your finances first,” I assure him, licking the sauce off my fork as Dalton wolfs down the last of his chicken. He is so voracious.
I hope that’s how badly he’ll want to consume me once the drug kicks in.
“In any case, you are now technically debt-free, but is gambling something you do frequently, or was that a one-off?”
He smirks and grabs a piece of bread out of the little basket between us to get all the sauce off his plate. “Why? Are you worried I’ll gamble away my husband’s fortune?”
He winks at me, which is cute in its smugness, I have to give him that. He’s my prisoner, and yet already he’s playful. I have to admire that.
“I will be giving you an allowance in the future, and if you ever borrow money from someone else again, I will see that as cheating,” I tell him with a straight face and have some more wine.
Dalton cocks his head and mirrors my gesture, gobbling down half a glass in one go. Savage. But good for me, as alcohol will amplify the effect of the aphrodisiac.
“You’re… for real? You want to marry?” Is he red from the warm food or blushing at the idea? Either way, I want to lick him.
“Why wouldn’t I? You are handsome, we’re a match in bed. What else could I want?” I ask, because now that my family knows, there’s no reason to make my life unnecessarily complicated. We will get to know each other now, and unless it turns out his personality is repulsive, having him seems like the perfect solution to my long-standing issues.
A man of my own.
In my house.
And everyone knows.
I lick my lips and swallow, getting excited at the thought of Dalton being here, whenever I want. Of finally getting to explore my needs for real, and having an outlet for them.
Something I’ve craved all along but didn’t want to face.
His smile widens, and he grabs the tiramisu I placed between us, but then also passes me mine. “Weird way to propose, but okay.” His pupils are a bit dilated when he looks at me. Is the drug kicking in, or is he just happy to be here? “I’m guessing we’re getting a prenup?”
He’s adorable.
I laugh, leaning back in my chair and finishing the wine in my glass. “Oh, we are not getting divorced. Ever,” I tell him with a wide grin.
“But what if either of us—”
“No, if you become my husband, I will not be letting you go.”
Is it an unhinged thing to say to a man I’ve known two days? Maybe, but we will iron out the wrinkles.
He packs a massive spoonful of tiramisu into his mouth as he watches me with wide eyes, not even blinking. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not some kind of forever bachelor who snubs relationships. I’ve actually wanted one. No, this works, this really works. How about you? Any deadly Mafia exes in the wings that I should be aware of?” As he asks, he nudges my foot with his under the table.
So much for denying me dick.
I’ve won.
“Ah, no one you should be concerned about. I only dated people from outside… my work circles,” I tell him, but while this isn’t a lie, I’m not planning on opening up about my past. The last thing I need is him knowing my vulnerabilities, so he could exploit them once our bond inevitably grows. And he is definitely not finding out that I’ve never had anyone I’d call a boyfriend, or that no one before him got to top me.