Page 110 of Carnal Urges

“To Martha’s Vineyard? No.”

“Don’t hide. You know what I’m asking.”

His eyes are so intense. I feel exposed. Naked. And disoriented, like I’m tumbling down into a deep, dark hole. “You know I haven’t.”

“Say it.”

“You really like to get right into it at the weirdest times, don’t you? We’re not even alone.”

“Say it.”

I can tell he won’t be satisfied until I give him what he wants. So I lean close to his ear and obey him.

“No, I’ve never been here before. I’ve never felt like this about anyone. I’ve never lost myself, or wanted to lose myself like I want to lose myself in you. And I’ve never trusted a man, including my father. So if you break my heart, gangster, just know that you’ll be the first and last to do it. Nobody before you has ever been able to even scratch it, and nobody will be able to pick up the shattered pieces behind you if you leave.”

He exhales hard. He takes my face in his hands. His eyes are bright and exultant, brilliantly blue.

He pronounces gruffly, “I’ll never leave. Because you’re going to be my wife.”

“Holy shit.”

“Is that a yes?”

“No.”

“Then make it a yes.”

“I’m not wife material.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“I see. So you’ll kidnap me into marriage?”

“Why are you getting angry?”

“Because your arrogance is larger than the entire known universe.”

“It’s the next logical step.”

“Sure, if we’d been together more than four seconds.”

“I won’t live long, Sloane. I don’t have the luxury of taking things slowly.”

That puts the brakes on the conversation faster than anything else he could’ve said. Shocked, I say, “Are you sick?”

“No. I’m the new head of an international criminal empire. My expected lifespan has just been drastically reduced. My predecessor didn’t make it a year in his position. How much longer do you think I’ll get?”

Panic forms a cold, hard ball in the pit of my stomach. “Longer than that, if you’re careful.”

“I’m not careful. It’s not in my nature to be. I’m lucky I’ve lasted this long, in fact. But the clock is ticking, and it’s getting loud.”

I can’t decide if I should be horrified or if I should hit myself over the head. What he’s saying makes total sense, and of course I knew all of it, but hearing him say it out loud right after he dropped a bombshell proposal is way too much.

I sit up straighter, shaking his hands off my face. “Let me get this straight. You think it would be a good idea for me to marry you—let’s not even get started on all the hilarious issues about how we met, and thevastexpanse of time since that happened—knowing full well that in a few short months or years, I’d be a widow?”

His brows draw together. His lips thin. He goes into his classic glower mode as fast as two fingers snapping. “You’d be my sole heir. You’d get everything I own—”

I cut him off with an acid laugh. “Oh, we’re talking about money again! You seem to be under the impression that the only thing women care about is cash, which is less than charming. But I can assure you,I don’t give a shitabout how much money you have or would leave to me in the event of your untimely death.”