“Because—” He moves quickly, fluidly, I don’t have a chance to pull away before my left hand is secured firmly in his. He slips something light onto one of my fingers. Light and very, very sparkly. I blink, sure that I’ve finally lost my mind and am seeing things.
But no matter how many times I squeeze my eyes tight and reopen them, the ring on my finger doesn’t change. Rem folds my fingers into my palm, effectively locking the diamond in place.
“You’re marrying me.”
6
LENA
“Fuck you.” My gaze flies to Rem’s as fast as the words escape my mouth. I see something flash in his eyes, but it’s gone almost instantly. His face is back to being utterly emotionless.
“I’d love to,bella, but we don’t have time.”
“It wasn’t an invitation, asshole.” I jerk my hand but can’t break his grip. I glare up at him, my back glued to the wall as he towers over me. “Let me go.”
“Not until we finish this conversation.”
“This isn’t a conversation, it’s a hostile takeover. There’s no fucking way I’m marrying you.” I yank my hand again, but it only brings him closer. Rem braces his other palm against the wall by my head. If I breathe too deep my breasts will skim his chest. Suddenly I’m struggling to swallow. I pray he can’t see how hard my nipples have gotten beneath the sweatshirt. Christ, talk about the entirely wrong reaction to this entirely fucked up situation.
“I wasn’t asking.” His lips brush my forehead. I refuse to react. Refuse so hard I bite my tongue until I taste blood. “This is happening, Lena, whether you like it or not.”
I turn, pressing my cheek to the wall, trying to put as much space as possible between his lips and my skin. I should hate the feel of them, hate having him so deep in my personal space. But something about having Rem’s broad body between me and the rest of the world is dangerously enticing. So much so I have the wild, unhinged thought that, with us standing like this, he’s the wall against which all the threats of the world would break. He’s caging me in place, literally trying to claim me, and yet his hand is gentle around mine, his breath soft against my hairline. He’s not hurting me in any way.
And maybe that should terrify me the most.
It’s like he can read my mind and is using it against me. Like he knows how alone I feel right now. How entirely exposed to everything the universe has to throw at me. How scared I am to walk out this door and face whatever comes next.
Assuming Remletsme walk out the door. And that’s a problem. My life is in tatters, sure, but it’s still mine. I’m not about to turn over what’s left to the man who broke into my crappy apartment, locked me away in a stranger’s house after I got shot, and is currently holding me hostage against a wall, no matter how insanely hot he is. I’ll take the devil I don’t know, thank you very much. “What do you even want with me? Why are you doing this?”
“We don’t have time for this.”
“They are simple questions. I don’t know who you are. I don’t know why you were in my apartment. I don’t know the why’s of any of the shit that went down last night. And I sure as hell don’t know why a stranger is standing here telling me we’re getting married. You think I should just fall in line and go along with this absolutely insane demand? Tell me why.”
Rem drops his forehead to mine. We are so close I can practically see the thoughts—the curses—swimming in the back of his eyes. Can hear the grind of his teeth as he clenches his jaw. Inhale the smell of…
Without warning, he steps back. I have to balance myself to stop from falling. As if I had been leaning into him, not the other way around.
“Fine, fine.” Rem pulls out his phone and mutters under his breath, words I can’t understand. They don’t sound very polite though. He pounds out a text, shoves his phone back in his pocket, stares at me, arms crossed, and waits.
For what, I’m not sure. Until I hear a key in the lock. Rem is at the door just as it opens, taking something from the person on the other side. I’m holding my breath, straining to hear if they lock us back in, but a deafening noise fills my skull when Rem turns around and I see what he’s holding.
“Do you know what this is?”
Speechless, I shake my head. He lifts the enormous fucking gun, spewing off a name, something very technical and military-grade. “Do you know what a weapon like this is used for?”
“Killing people.”Obviously.
Something about my answer must amuse him. Rem’s mouth quirks up at one side. That tiny sign of humor vanishes as he continues, “Yes, killing people. But, more specifically, shooting people at long-distance. This,piccola, is the gun of choice for snipers. Professional assassins.”
“Assassins?” I repeat, sounding like a choking frog.
“Yes.” Rem nods, stepping closer. “Or hitmen, if you prefer. Can you guess where I found this?”
No. I can’t guess. Don’t want to.
“On the roof a few buildings down from yours. I checked the scope—there was a perfect line of sight into your apartment.” Rem shakes his head. “I picked it up last night along with the casings left behind. Cops hadn’t even finished canvassing the neighborhood yet. Sloppy work, even for them. But here’s the thing…”
Rem trails off. Tension stretches between us, and I get a horrible feeling I’m really going to hate what he says next.