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“As in I’m weak,” I scoffed.

“Yes.”

“If you’re suggesting that you become some front man for whatever combined business we put together, think again.”

“That’s not what I’m suggesting at all, although that would make things easier if you agreed.”

“I won’t.”

“As expected,” Jago said and walked closer. Why did I have a feeling I wasn’t going to like what he had to say? “Then it’s simple.”

“How so?”

“You will marry me and I’m afraid I can’t take no for an answer.”

CHAPTER 15

Jago

“You need a wife.”

Those were my father’s exact words when I’d spoken to him the morning before. His words had cut through me like a sharp blade, both jarring and amusing at the same time.

He’d attempted to orchestrate my entire life over the years. I’d hated him for it.

When I’d asked him why, he suggested that it would allow me to project a stronger sense of leadership. He’d gone on further to tell me that’s what he’d done by marrying my mother. I’d been under no grand illusion that he’d married her out of love.

No man in my position or one in their right mind allowed a woman to enter their realm because of true adoration. That was close to signing a death warrant.

Every relationship was complicated, but when you considered entering one that involved any closeness between two people alone, that presented the possibility of destruction.

I’d laughed in his face.

Why did I need to project some image? Yes, it was past time I had heirs, but being a drug lord of an empire such as what I’d grown up in wasn’t anything like a typical crime syndicate. It was the survival of the fittest. I’d simply been lucky that my father was still alive. By all rights, the devil should have taken his life more than once.

That’s why I’d never entertained the thought of having a family. Either I’d be killed, or they’d be taken from me.

Why would I bother with the angst?

I’d swept it from my mind immediately upon ending the call. The discussion had been finished and I’d told him as much.

I didn’t know why the idea suddenly seemed more palatable, except that something deep had stirred in me the night before. I’d thought it nothing more than the usual desire to own something that didn’t belong to me. But when that had occurred before, I’d grown bored, almost instantly tossing out the item or the person without second thinking my decision.

Yet when I’d awakened and she hadn’t been in my bed, my first thought hadn’t been filled with anger, but concern. What the fuck did that mean? I’d hopped out of bed, almost to the point of losing my shit until I’d seen the light under the bathroom door.

When I’d tasted her again, I’d been forced to face the fact I wanted more. What I was proposing was dangerous but could prove effective.

Only she needed to be a willing partner. This wasn’t like some typical arranged marriage in the Italian mob where the father forced his daughter into basic slavery. If she didn’t agree and wasn’t on board, she’d cut my nuts off the first chance she got before gutting me in the middle of the night.

It didn’t matter that we had damn good sex.

Genevieve didn’t react at first other than to blow on the liquid in her mug and take a sip. Her words came a full minute later. “You’re joking.”

“No, I am not.”

Her sigh was exaggerated on purpose. “How would this work?”

“We’d get married in the eyes of God and man so when the news leaked, the union would seem legitimate.”