Shantra swallowed past the lump in her throat. He was right. Their entire business was flying high, not just because of the different designs, but also due to the mystery surrounding who designs the clothes. Keith had done an excellent job of pushing that mystery, as well as various rumors about her background, all of which have poor beginnings. Their clientele would feel betrayed. Duped.
The business could possibly withstand a few months of a drop in sales, but what if it was longer than a few months? What if it took Keith longer to promote the real story and spin it so that their new clientele would appreciate the story?
Keith and Joline had dedicated a huge number of hours to the business, making it a success. Joline had even slept in the tiny, cramped office located in one of the retails stores for a few months at the beginning when things were tight, not renting an apartment so that she could put more money back into the business. Shantra had spent hours detailing the designs, but she hadn’t put nearly as much into the business as Keith and Joline.
“You wouldn’t do that,” she said, hoping that she was right.
She was wrong.
“I want you for my wife, Shantra. And yes, I would do that if it came down to getting you.” He moved even closer, making her body tremble with both fear and that crazy awareness that didn’t dissipate with his threats. “I always get what I want.” His finger slid over her cheek once more and she pulled away, furious with him for blackmailing her like this.
She wasn’t sure what to say. “In one breath, you’re giving me freedom,” she started off.
“Limited freedom, Shantra. Not even I can do all that I want, when I want. You will operate within the bounds of your security team’s ability to protect you.”
She was stunned by that comment. It was such a sweeping release of all of the pressures she’d endured in Kilar. What he was offering was too tempting. “I don’t know if I’m more afraid of a marriage with you or telling my brothers the truth,” she admitted, and was shocked at how freeing that statement was.
Laithir was impressed at her honesty. His body hardened as he watched her and it was difficult to keep his mind focused on the conversation. She was standing in front of him, almost as if she were taunting him with her lush body. His hands ached to explore her perfect curves, and his mind was tempted almost beyond his ability to resist the desire to stand up and kiss her. Truly kiss her, taste her and feel the way she melted into his arms just as she’d done earlier on the drive over here. “Marry me, Shantra, and you won’t be in the shadows any longer.” He took her hand and tucked it onto his arm. “And I promise you that I will make you happy, Shantra.”
He pulled her chair out so that she was once again sitting at the pretty table. “This isn’t the way I’d pictured my marriage happening,” she said with increasing resentment, which was really just a foil for the fact that the man sitting across from her was terrifying.
“Would you prefer roses and hearts, declarations of undying love?” he asked.
Shantra glanced into his eyes and saw the cynicism. That budding hope that had started to spring up inside of her died with that look. “No. I suppose that wouldn’t really be your style,” she told him, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t have enjoyed at least the possibility of an emotion from him that was stronger than satisfaction at winning.
Instead of filling in the silence, which would be her normal modus operandi, Shantra picked up her glass of wine, swallowing the rest of the liquid. She reached for the bottle of wine and poured another large portion of the liquid. When she lifted the glass to her lips, she glared at him over the rim of the glass, daring him to stop her. Unfortunately, he only stared back at her with that dratted amusement in his eyes, and then continued to eat his meal.
When he was finished, he stood up and extended his hand to her. “Come, I will show you to your room and then we’ll go out and start the search for your wedding trousseau.”
She shook her head. “I’m not staying here and…” she was about to argue with him about going out for a wedding dress when his hand reached out and touched her cheek. That simple touch distracted her so completely that, by the time he pulled his hand away, she’d forgotten what she was going to say.
In silence, he took her hand and, like a silly fool, Shantra followed. She was back in the limousine and pulling away from the curb when she was able to think once again. “We’re not doing this,” she told him firmly.
He didn’t even respond. He was already on the phone with someone and talking rapidly so Shantra was forced to sit on her side of the vehicle and fume with anger.