6. Chapter
1135 Words
Lorena
This mentally unhinged asshole has completely lost his mind! Marry him? Absolutely not! What does he think I am?
“Are you insane? I’d never marry a—”
I bit off the end of the sentence too late. He was already moving. His hand closed around my throat and he slammed me against the wall. He towered over me, staring straight into my eyes.
“Little girl, I don’t think you understand who you’re talking to.”
Of course I don’t. I have no idea who he is, and I don’t want to know if I can help it.
“I don’t give a damn whether you die or not. You wanted to know if there was a way out — I told you what the solution would be. The choice is in your hands.”
For some reason, I felt he wasn’t being honest. If he really didn’t care about my fate, he would’ve killed me already. Right?
“There has to be another way!”
He shakes his head and lets go of my throat. I rub the skin with my hand — his grip wasn’t exactly gentle. He looks at my neck, but when he realizes it, he turns his head away.
“You don’t have many options left. You have to pay!”
Damn it all. I can’t marry a killer — a monster. Just thinking about what he might do to me makes my skin crawl.
The stranger looks at his watch.
“Got somewhere to be? How many people do you have to kill today? Bet it’s a long list.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. Insulting him will only get me in trouble. I came here prepared to beg for my life if I had to. I don’t want to die. I’ve been through so much already, and now that I’ve finally moved on and could’ve been happy, I’m thrown into another nightmare.
“For someone who was begging for her life a few minutes ago, you’ve got a pretty big mouth,” he says, looking at his watch again before continuing.
“You pay, or you die. Choose.”
“The third option isn’t on the table anymore?”
What the hell am I doing?
“Little girl, we both know you’ll never accept it. There’s no point talking about it.”
To hell with all of this. I don’t have many choices.
“If I did accept it… how would it even work? We get married and each keep living our own lives?”
It’s the second time I hear him laugh, and I don’t like it.
“You think your life would stay the same? The mafia has strict rules, and everyone lives by them. If you were my wife, they’d apply to you too. You’d have protection, money, power, and you’d never have to work again.”
“I like working. This is my life.”
I gesture around the shop with my hand.
“That’s negotiable.”
“Why do I feel like that’s not all? What would you expect from me? I’m not going to be your bed‑warmer or your lover!”
He tilts his head and looks me over. Really looks — to the point that I start feeling embarrassed.
“I’d never force you to do something you didn’t want. I may be a monster, but I don’t rape women!”
His voice snaps sharply in my ear. Is he offended? Does he actually have feelings? No — impossible.
“So you’d just punish me for not sleeping with you. Almost the same thing,” I shrug.
“The seventh commandment says women must be treated with respect — but for that, they must be faithful to their husbands. Marriage wouldn’t just be a piece of paper between us.”
“Maybe you could give me a list of these rules of yours — this holy scripture of yours.”
He nods. But says nothing more. He waits. Arms folded across his chest. His shirt stretches over strong, muscular arms. Last time the lighting wasn’t this good — now I can see his face better. Handsome, charismatic — no point denying it — but his eyes are still terrifying.
I swallow hard and speak.
“Do I have time to think about it?”
“Your deadline expired today. The boss is waiting — either for the money or for the news that you’re dead. You have to decide.”
Now? Damn it, what am I supposed to do? I can’t marry him! Wait…
“If I can’t pay, and I don’t die today, what exactly will you tell your boss? That you’re marrying me and that solves everything? That’s it?”
He goes behind the counter and looks around. What the hell is he doing?
“What are you doing now?”
He comes out from behind the counter and shrugs.
“Looking around. I see you have an alarm system. Smart choice.”
Did he just… compliment me? He’s impossible to read.
“To answer your question: the debt has to be paid either way. But it wouldn’t be your problem anymore.”
What? Is he saying…
“Wait — you’d pay it?”
“It would be my job as your husband.”
He starts walking around the shop, checking every corner. I trail behind him, confused. I don’t know why he’s doing this, but I don’t really care. What bothers me more is that I’d be indebted to him. And I don’t like that.
“Let’s make a deal.”
He spins around, fixing his eyes on me.
“You’re not in a position to bargain. It’s this or nothing. Decide.”
I say it anyway.
“Give me a way out. If I pay back the debt to you, we divorce, you let me go, and we have nothing to do with each other again.”
He frowns. His gaze burns.
“That’s a lot of money. It would take you years to gather it.”
Maybe he’s right — but as a business owner, I could take out a loan. Maybe in a year. I’d have to talk to the bank. But he doesn’t need to know that — he just needs to agree.
“I don’t care how long it takes — I want a loophole.”
He turns away. I can see he’s thinking.
“Fine. If you pay the debt, you’re free.”
That’s enough for me.
“All right. I’ll marry you.”
He glances back at me over his shoulder, shakes his head, and leaves the shop without a word.
He’s gone, but it’s only a matter of time before he comes for me.
This was not the best decision of my life.
- Writer
