5. Proposal

FIVE

My hands flex on their own, and he notices.

Something tells me that this man notices everything.

Before I can find the words to demand he tell me how he knows who the hell I am, Damien pulls out something from behind him, lifting it up so I can see it as he says, "Wishing you had this?"

Screw knowing my name. I can deal with that. But when I see him holding my Glock…

"How did you get that?"

"No, my dear. The question is where did you get this?"

For some reason, he taps the butt of the gun, drawing my attention to the white snowflake that's on the bottom, then shifts just enough to toss my gun through the open window of his car.

No.

Well, he's not going to give me it back. That much is clear. So is the fact that his wasn't coincidental at all. He drove down this alley, setting the perfect trap for me, and now he's confronting me.

Good luck. He wants to know where I got my gun from?

I jut out my chin. "Screw you."

Amusement dances in his pale blue eyes. "Very well. I have men working on tracing it. You could've helped me out, but I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want to." He chuckles softly. "Though if you're offering, I'd be happy to oblige."

My snort comes out before I can swallow it back. Pointedly ignoring his come-on, I scoff as I say, "Yeah, right. You? Forcing people to do shit… isn't that, like, your whole thing?"

He tilts his head toward me as if conceding my point. "True enough. In that case, I assume you know who I am."

Mr. Hotshot in Springfield… doesn't everyone?

Still, I could lie. I could tell him I have no idea that he's one of the most powerful men in Springfield. But if he's figured out who my new identity is and somehow knows that that gun used to be mine, what else does he know?

Pick your battles, Savannah. Don't give away any more than you have to… but give away just enough.

"Damien Libellula," I admit. "A Dragonfly."

"The Dragonfly," he corrects. "And the man you've been watching for months now."

Shit. He knows.

I don't deny it. I don't tell him he's right, either. I just stare at him, folding my arms under my tits like I did at the pawn shop.

And just like Antonio, Damien's gaze flickers over my cleavage.

Fucking men.

He recovers quicker, though. I'll give him that. He forces his eyes to meet mine, a tiny crooked smile playing on his thin lips. "You want to tell me why?" He pauses for a moment. "Did one of my rivals put you up to it?"

"I have my own reasons," I retort, and if it comes out shorter than I meant it to, I can't help it. I've imagined this confrontation with Damien a thousand times, and I've had the upper hand in all of them because he had no idea who I was or that I was stalking him.

But he does, and that throws me off.

He cocks his head. "So you have been watching me. Interesting."

I shrug.

"I'm a very busy man, Savannah. I don't have time to play these games, and even if I did, I'm too old to waste that time. So why don't you just tell me what it is that you want from me and we can both go on our merry ways since I'm sure you're not actually interested in screwing me after all. Hmm? What do you say?"

This fucking prick. He's dismissing me.

Oh, no. He's not getting rid of me that easily.

Looking him over, too angry to think straight, I don't see any gun on him. That doesn't mean I'm naive enough to believe that he isn't armed. I've watched him enough to know that he always is. A gun's not his first weapon of choice, though. Oh, no. Damien. He has?—

—his knife.

He's right handed so the holster he wears is on his left side. Everything I've learned about this man says he doesn't go anywhere without it.

And, suddenly, I know what I'm going to do.

"Give me my gun back," I purr, taking a step closer to him.

He arches an eyebrow. "Maybe I was wrong before. Alright. I'll bite. What will you give me if I do?"

A bullet to the skull.

I smile.

See, no one else is around. This area of Springfield closes early, while the nightlife will start picking up once the sun goes down. This… this might be the only chance I have.

And I'm going to take it.

"Whatever you want," I murmur huskily.

"Is that so?"

I move into him. So close, my breasts bump his chest. He doesn't step back. Almost as if on instinct, his hand snakes around my waist, landing on the small of my back.

His lips part.

My hand lands on his hip, stealing whatever it is he was about to say next. Slowly, as he dips his head, I trail my finger up his side. I make sure I reach beneath his suit jacket as I do, touching his dress shirt instead as his mouth brushes against my neck.

"I thought you'd make me work a little harder than this, Savannah," he murmurs—and that does it. The absolute smugness mixed with his almost disappointment that I would trade sex for my gun flips the switch inside of me, letting me know that I have the right idea about what I'm going to do next.

I wasn't trying to convince him to give me a gun I no longer needed. I just wanted Damien to let me close enough that I could do this.

I find the hilt of his knife. Before he can stop me, I yank it out of his holster while stepping back, putting enough space between us that I can swing my arm and stab him in the first spot I can reach.

It's not as easy as I'd hoped it would be. Either I didn't put enough force into it, or the material of his thick suit jacket blunted the knife's edge, because it doesn't go in smoothly. I have to force it, and by the time I've gotten it most of the way in, it dawns on me what I just did.

I stabbed Damien Libellula. Not in the heart, either, or the chest where I might've actual accomplished what I set out to do. Oh, no. In my rage-fueled impulsiveness, I got him in the side, and apart from hissing out a curse, he doesn't fucking react at all.

I sure the hell do.

I thought I could do this. To get my revenge… I thought I could kill him. Maybe if I had my gun, I could've, but the way the knife squelched as I stabbed him… I think I'm going to hurl. I'm probably going to die. I always knew that, if I fucked up my one chance to get to him, I had to do the job right.

But I didn't. Damien is bowed over, staring at the knife in his side, but he didn't drop. He didn't even scream. He's just sighing now, and I take that at my cue to get the fuck out of here.

I'm in over my head. I know it, and there's nothing I can do but hope like hell I can get to my car, get my cat, and get the hell out of Springfield while I can.

It's a plan. A good plan. My revenge can wait, but only if I can get out of this mess?—

I slam into as hard as a brick wall with only the tiniest bit of give to it. I'd barely even torn out of the alley, running blindly toward where I left my car, but my forehead hits something first, then my nose, and as I try to stumble back and away from whatever it was, a rough hand closes around my upper arm.

My eyes are watering, but even through the tears, I can see a brawny chest in front of me. Tilting my head back, I see a pair of piercing blue eyes, a buzz cut, and a murderous expression and immediately recognize the wall I ran into.

Damien's bodyguard.

Damn it. Damn it. I thought we were alone. I thought no one was watching. I'd completely forgotten the big guy had been dropped off at the laundromat, that he was near. Was it a coincidence that I ran into him—and was he posted out there just in case I tried to run?

When he squeezes my arm before dragging me back into the alley, shifting me so that I have no choice but to look at Damien, I'm pretty sure I have my answer.

"Got her, boss."

"Good job, Vin. Oh, Savannah… there are much better ways to get my attention, my dear."

My head shoots over to him. Even through the tears, the smirk on his face has me wishing I'd been brave enough to yank that knife out and plunge it into his heart.

Only I didn't—and the knife is still sticking out of his side.

He flicks his fingers at the giant behind me.

Next thing I know, I'm hoisted up. Vin has one big arm around my throat, the other around my waist. He lifts me a good foot off the ground, leaving my legs dangling as he tightens his hold on my throat.

Damien sucks in a breath, shifting his weight so that he can lean with his good hip against his car as he studies me.

He could shoot me in the middle of the East End with my own gun and nobody would even look twice. This man has the cops in his pocket, and my weapon within reach.

Vin squeezes. "I got her."

"You're also choking her."

"You want I should just snap her neck?"

I close my eyes.

This is it. I failed.

I knew I needed to take my time. To learn everything I could about him, maybe find a way to infiltrate his life, get close to him somehow… but no. I let the memories make me mindless, and now I'm going to pay the price for my recklessness.

Poor Orion. He deserved a better owner than me. I just hope he finds a way to escape my apartment before it's too late?—

"No. Let her go."

They snap open.

Without a word, Vin drops me. I don't land on my ass, though it's close, and it takes me a second to remember how to breathe while the black spots that surrounded the edge of my vision finally fade.

"I can… I can go?"

"No. Sorry. That was my mistake. I wasn't clear. I don't want my associate here to harm you, but that doesn't mean I'm just going to let you go. Let you get away with this."

My shoulders slump as Vin's massive hand closes around my bicep, tethering me to him again.

Damien nods in approval. "I do, however, have a… proposition to make to you. As a way for you to make up for what you've just done."

"Boss—"

He ignores Vin, and so do I. "What do you mean?"

"I want you to marry me. Become my bride."

My stomach lurches. He has to be fucking with me.

In case he's not, I gasp out, "That's not a proposition. That's a fucking proposal!"

"Hmm. I guess it is."

I'm a shit stalker. How did I spend months studying Damien only to just know realize that he's nuts. Fucking insane. He has that knife still sticking out of his side, the area around the tear darkening with blood, and he instead of wanting me dead, his bright idea for revenge is to propose.

Even worse, he looks amused that I corrected his madness.

"Think of it this way," he continues when it's clear he's stunned me speechless, "regardless of the type of business I run, I am a businessman. Right now, Savannah, I'm giving you an opportunity. Consider it a business arrangement if you will. Marry me, and we can pretend this"—his waves at the knife that's still sticking out of his side—"can be like water under the bridge. We forget all about it."

"And if I don't? If I don't marry you?"

I can't marry him?

"There are some other options we can come up with, I'm sure. Prison, for one. I know quite a few police officers. Attempted murder is a felony. You'll go away for a long, long time?—"

I'm already shaking my head. It's a visceral reaction. I barely survived four years in a minimum security prison on a trumped-up misdemeanor charge. A felony? Maximum security as a violent offender? No. No.

"I could always let you go, but once my men learn you tried to kill me, I'd say you have… twenty-four hours before the bounty on your head means one of my Dragonflies is bringing it to me." Conversational as ever, he glances at the other man. "What do you say, Vin? Over? Under?"

"Under," Vin responds in a flat voice from behind me. "Give her a five-minute head start, boss, and I'll still have her delivered to you in ten."

"And that's why you have more leaves than anyone, and more sense in your head than Kieran who's currently rotting beneath the laundromat right now."

"Yeah, but he got killed by a Sinner for going after the wrong woman. And you want to marry the one who just tried to kill you?"

His icy gaze roves over my face as his upper lip curls. "Yes."

At least I have some idea about what happened to that poor blonde woman I saw. Thanks to Vin here, I've heard the name Kieran multiple times this week. If he's the one who worked that girl over, I'm glad to hear he's dead.

Just… just not so happy that, if I don't marry the man I've spent months plotting to kill, I'm next.

What else can I do, though? His bodyguard means it. Given the chance, he'd snap my neck right now. And though I have no fucking idea why Damien Libellula wants to torture me by forcing me to become his wife, it's my only shot at survival.

I can't do prison again. I don't want to spend the rest of my life, looking over my shoulder for the Dragonflies. I sure as fuck don't want to tie myself to their leader… but maybe it won't be so bad.

Hey. I wanted to infiltrate his life. I wanted to find a way to get close to Damien… can I get any closer than being his bride?

And once I have… I failed in killing him once. The next time?

I won't.

But I can't agree so easily. He has to guess I'm already plotting. I mean, that knife is still there! I tried to kill him! He's not even asking me about that! And yet… he's waiting for me to give him an answer as though it really matters if I'll willingly agree to this insanity or not.

I swallow the lump lodged in my throat that quite possibly might be my heart. "What about him? What if?—"

"Him?" Damien echoes, cutting me off. "You mean Vin?"

The man who's holding so tightly to my arm, it feels like he's about to tear it off? "Uh-huh."

"Vin didn't see anything," he says calmly. "Did you, Vin?"

Too calmly for a man with a knife sticking out of his side.

Am I dead? Is that it? The big oaf snapped my neck without warning, and now this is some split-second dream before my brain gets the memo that I'm gone?

Maybe—

"Nothing, boss," he rumbles grumpily.

"See? You have nothing to worry about," Damien says, and that's a fucking lie if I've ever head one. "If you say ‘yes' and agree to be my loyal bride, the only ones who ever need to know how this happened are us three. Say ‘no' and, well, there's only one sentence for betrayal in the Libellula family."

"Death."

"That's right, Vin. Death."

Ah. He couldn't make himself any clearer with that last statement. If anyone betrays him… by forcing me to marry him, he's giving me a second chance. He's basically buying that loyalty he mentioned, but it comes with a price for me. If I betray him, I'm dead.

If I go to prison, I'm dead.

If I agree to be his wife, I'm probably dead even so…

But no matter what it takes, I'm going to take this man with me.

This man?—

"Yes."

—my soon-to-be husband.