The Wolf Box Set by Penelope Sky

5

Arwen

What wasI going to do?

I couldn’t marry him.

I wasn’t naïve about my current position. Everything Maverick said was true. I had no options right now. I could either marry him or subject myself to the cruel torture of the men who wanted to punish my father.

I wasn’t stupid.

I was just stubborn.

My life had been perfect before this happened. I loved my job, I loved the man in my bed, and I loved my independent existence in this luxurious apartment. But all of that disappeared with the snap of a finger.

Now I had to give it all up.

Maverick warned me about the men who would hurt me.

But what about him? Who was he?

Would he hurt me just the same?

I grabbed another bottle of wine from the cabinet and uncorked it, the room filling with the sound of the audible pop. I drank directly from the bottle once again, not wanting to hand-wash all the glasses sitting in the bottom of my sink.

A knock sounded on the door—but I wasn’t expecting company.

Then it opened, even though it’d been locked just a moment ago. Maverick emerged into the entryway, wearing dark blue jeans and a black t-shirt. Last time I saw him, his frame had been hidden underneath a suit, but now his clothing showed muscular arms, thick veins, and narrow hips. When he spoke about his bachelor life, it didn’t surprise me at all. He picked up ass on the town and fucked pussy until he wanted a different flavor. Why be with one woman when he could have them all?

But that didn’t impress me. I’d been with men just like him before. Nothing special about him at all.

A knife was sitting on my table, so I grabbed it and gripped it in my hand, the blade pointed in his direction. “Didn’t your mother teach you to knock?”

“Yes. But I was a terrible child.” He walked farther into the room, making himself welcome when my hostility was unmistakable. He came right up to me and took the bottle from my hand. “Barsetti vineyards… You have good taste in wine.” He helped himself to a drink then sat in one of the dark wooden chairs, resting the bottom of the bottle on his thigh while his fingers still grasped the neck.

I kept my grip on the knife even though he didn’t seem hostile.

He took another drink and eyed the weapon in my hand. “Are you going to smear some butter across my abs?”

My fingers loosened at the mockery. “Get the fuck out of my apartment, or I’ll stab this in your neck.”

“Geez…you are not a lady at all.”

“Did I say I was?”

He set the bottle on the table. “Your father made it seem that way. But I guess he was just trying to make a sale.”

I was being compared to livestock—and I didn’t appreciate that. “Get out.”

“No.” His long legs stretched out beneath him, his knees apart and his muscles obvious in the places where his jeans hugged his body. His shirt was tight across his chest because his pectoral muscles were thick enough to make a dent in his clothes. His skin was very tanned, like he didn’t spend much time indoors—unless he was fucking. To every other woman in the world, he was a handsome and rich man.

But to me, he was just a bastard. “I said, get out.”

“And I said no.” He nodded to the other chair. “Take a seat.”

“I’m not a dog.”

“Never said you were…even though you’re acting like a bitch.”

With lightning speed, I slammed the knife down onto his thigh, intending to stab him as deep as I could.

He moved his leg out of the way then caught me so I wouldn’t slam into the hardwood floor underneath his chair. “Be careful. Don’t want you to hurt yourself.” He took the knife out of my hand and started to help me up.

I pushed off him and straightened.

“You’ve got great speed but terrible aim. I can give you some pointers if you want.”

“Sure.” I crossed my arms. “How about we practice on you?”

A slow grin crept onto his face, the first one I’d seen him make. “You’re a pain in my ass, but at least you’re entertaining. I’ll give you that.” He tossed the knife on the table. “You know why I’m here. You need to change your mind because we’re running out of time. Make this easier on everyone and take advantage of your only option.”

“I said I’d rather die.”

“Then you must not understand what death means if you choose that.”

“No, I understand perfectly.”

“Alright…” He crossed his legs and rested one ankle on the opposite knee, getting comfortable in the wooden chair. “Then you must not understand how terrible it feels to be raped by a group of men. How painful it is to be a punching bag. And since you’re so entertaining, they probably won’t kill you…so your one way out won’t be available to you. It sounds like I’m your only option. Never thought I’d have to work so hard to get a woman to marry me when I don’t even want to marry her.”

“I think the answer is pretty obvious—you’re soft.”

His smile disappeared immediately, like I’d provoked the beast within. “Trust me, I’m not soft.”

“You’re begging a woman who despises you to marry you. That’s pretty pathetic, if you ask me.”

“I’m negotiating a deal—a deal that needs to happen.”

“To please your daddy?” I mocked. “I thought women were the ones with daddy issues…”

His gaze darkened once more, like I was poking at a wound that was festering. “My mother was kidnapped, raped, and beaten. Before my father and I could rescue her, they killed her. You wanna know how?” He tilted his head as he looked at me. “They hanged her. Your father came to mine and said he would give us the man who destroyed my family if I married you.” He raised his hand and pointed it at me. “Why would I want to marry some annoying brat who doesn’t understand her father is trying to save her life? Why would I want to marry someone so goddamn stubborn, she actually thinks she has another way out? Why would I want to marry a little girl who thinks she’s some big, tough man? Trust me, the last thing I want to do is see you in a wedding dress and give you my name.” He rose to his feet, towering over me the second he stood upright. “But I have a duty to my family—to my mother. If this is the price I have to pay, so be it.” He stepped closer to me, his face coming near mine as he stared me down with pure loathing.

It was the first time my tongue felt too big for my mouth, when I knew I’d shoved my foot too far down my throat. I shouldn’t pity this man, but I did—and I felt terrible for the insensitive comments I’d made. “I’m sorry about your mother…and the mean things I just said. I take it back.”

“No such thing as takebacks.” He stepped back, his presence still dwarfing everything in the room. “I need you to marry me because I have to avenge my mother. You need to marry me because no one will touch you as my wife. We need each other. So, stop prolonging it and just give in.”

That was what anyone else would do…but I wasn’t like everyone else. “You don’t know me very well, but I’m not the kind of person that just gives up.”

“Marrying me wouldn’t be giving up. You would be choosing life, not death. If you run, you won’t make it very far. If you stay, they’ll find you even quicker. Taking my name will blanket you with invincibility. My family isn’t a family you go to war with—especially not for a woman. You can keep your life, just with a few subtle changes.” He grabbed the bottle and took another drink, his head turning and showing the prominent angle of his jawline. It was so sharp, it seemed to be carved out of glass. His chin was covered with a shadow of hair, just as it’d been a few nights ago. With classic dark looks and brown eyes almost the color of coffee, he was pretty on the outside…but dark within.

“I’m seeing someone.”

“So? I’m seeing lots of someones.” He turned back to me.

“I won’t sleep with you.”

“Is that supposed to bother me?” The corner of his mouth rose in a smile. “You think you’re so beautiful that every man wants to fuck you? Sorry, sweetheart, but I’ve seen better.”

I’d never met a man so cold and cruel. I didn’t care if he found me beautiful or not, but he was so vicious, it was hard to believe. But at least he wouldn’t force me to do anything I didn’t want to do. “I’ve seen better too.”

“I doubt that…”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at his misplaced arrogance. “Will you hurt me?”

“Depends.”

“Depends on what?” I demanded.

“If you piss me off. Just don’t piss me off, and we won’t have any problems.”

“Well, don’t piss me off, and I won’t kill you in your sleep.”

He chuckled like I was nothing but comical to him. “I always see what’s going on—even with my eyes closed. Any other requests?”

“I want to live alone.”

“No, that won’t work. You’ll have to live with me. The world will have to think you’re really my wife. That means keeping your mistresses…or misters…discreet. I don’t have to do the same thing because—”

“You’re a pig?” I snapped.

“Something like that.”

The more I got to know him, the less I liked. “I want to continue to sing at the opera. It’s my life.”

“Couldn’t care less.”

“I want to have children.”

He opened his mouth to make a comment, but then he closed it again, as if he’d misunderstood what I said. “Wait…you mean you don’t want to have children.”

“No. I do want to have children.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Fine. Then I’ll have them with someone else.”

“But they’ll be under my roof. I can’t allow that.”

“There’s nothing you can do to control when I get pregnant or not. So, you can either be the father, or you don’t have to be. Doesn’t make a difference to me. But I will have a family one way or another. Not anytime soon…but someday.”

With that dark countenance, he stared at me with a stony expression, like he was annoyed by the request but felt helpless to fight it. The situation was out of his control, and he knew it. No point in arguing about it. “Is that a yes, then?”

“A yes to what?”

“That you’ll marry me.”

Ever since I was a little girl, I’d imagined a much better proposal than this. For one, the guy would be someone I loved. And second, it wouldn’t be under these horrific circumstances. Plus, the guy wouldn’t be a huge pig.

He continued to watch me as he sat and waited for a confirmation.

I slowly lowered myself into the chair and grabbed the bottle of wine. “I don’t know…” I brought it to my lips and took a deep drink, needing the sweetness of the fruit along with the booze to calm my beating heart.

With one arm resting on the table and an indifferent expression, he watched me. “You do know. You just don’t want to do it.”

I took another drink.

“Your father is trying to help you. Let him help you.”

I nearly spat out the next sip of wine I took. “Help me? If he wanted to help me, he could have not spent our family fortune on god knows what. He could have avoided all these bad men he’s talking about. If he really gave a damn about protecting me, he wouldn’t have put us in such a vulnerable position. It’s not just irresponsible…it’s unforgivable.”

Maverick stared at me with cold eyes, looking at me like I was a painting rather than a person. “You can be a brat and whine about the past, or you can move on. I suggest you move on…if you don’t want to die.”

“I’d rather be a brat than an asshole. This information dropped on my shoulders just a week ago, and I’m supposed to be over it?”

“You should have been over it the moment it happened. There’s no point in living in the past. It doesn’t matter that you used to be some rich little princess. Now you’re piss-poor—unless you grab on to the only life raft you’ve got.” He rested his fingers under his chin as he regarded me. “Life will always throw surprises your way. How you react to them is what defines you. Feeling sorry for yourself is one way to go…but it won’t get you anywhere.”

This man was heartless and lacked any ounce of empathy. He didn’t care about my story and what I’d endured. That indifference would carry on into our marriage, and I would be married to a man I didn’t even like. We couldn’t even be friends. “Have you always been this cold?”

He regarded me with the same expression, frozen down to his core. “You call it cold. I call it pragmatic.” He rose to his feet and towered over me once more. “I’m going to assume your answer is yes.” He turned to the door to leave.

“Wait.”

He turned around.

“I don’t even know you…” I knew nothing about him other than his name. I had no idea what he did for a living, what his favorite color was, what he believed in. We’d shared a bottle of wine and had a conversation, but I knew him even less than I did before.

After another cold look, he turned back to the door. “Does it matter?”