4. Ginevra

CHAPTER 4

Ginevra

“ M y fake wife,” he clarifies, but the damage to my malfunctioning brain is already done. “Marry me and be my fake wife for one year. Then I’ll say you’ve done your time and are free to go.”

All I can do is gape at him. I’ve never been more speechless in my life. He can’t be serious. But I’m having trouble getting a read on him because he’s too close. His body heat, his spicy masculine scent, his mere presence is too much.

Overwhelming.

Overpowering.

I’ve never felt like this around a man before. He radiates raw, primal predator energy, but my anxiety has yet to rear its head. This proves that I’m beyond broken. The guys I’m drawn to and I think are nice end up being psychos, but when I’m in the clutches of an obviousl y dangerous man, my alarm bells fail to ring.

No red flags here.

No big flashing red lights.

Nothing at all—except this insane need to hold onto him, to draw him closer. Do I have a death wish? I know this man is bad news. He’s the devil himself.

I inwardly sigh at myself.

Releasing his arms, I slide my back against the wall and side-step to escape him. I step away until there’s plenty of distance between us. Until I can breathe again. Clearly think again.

I can’t believe I just let him grope me. I mean, if I was drunk, sure, that kind of thing happens all the time and I let it. But I’m sober—too fucking sober for this situation. What was I thinking?

He’s no different from any other man. They’re all perverts.

“Well?” he lazily prompts. “What will it be?”

My laugh comes out high-pitched and slightly hysterical. “You aren’t serious.”

“Dead serious.” The heat in his bright blue eyes from earlier has dimmed to indifference. Was the lust ever there, or did I imagine it? He looks every inch the foreboding, moody billionaire that he is. One who has no interest in me, at least not in any way that’s good.

“I can’t. I have a boyfriend.” I make the first excuse that comes to mind. He’ll get tired of this game soon enough, laugh at my expense, and call it a night.

“Break up with him,” he drawls, as if that’s the obvious solution.

“I can’t.”

“You will if you don’t want to go to prison.”

I wave him off. “Even if I was single, I can’t marry you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re old and boring.” I do my best to act unaffected by him, smoothing down my sparkly dress.

“ Old? Boring?” His jaw ticks.

Did I hit a nerve?

Why am I poking this beast? What is wrong with me?

I fake a yawn. “So boring. In fact, you’re boring me with this game.”

A ruthless gleam sparkles in his astonishingly blue eyes. Those beautiful blues should belong to someone who deserves them. Not this evil man.

“This is no game, Ginevra.” His tone sends a chill up my spine.

“I’m calling your bluff.” I fold my arms under my breasts. His gaze flicks to my tits then is gone so quickly that my head spins. Did he really check me out? Or did I imagine that too?

Do I want him to find me attractive? When I know he’s wicked and I should avoid him?

“Fine. Have it your way.” His bored expression almost convinces me that he doesn’t care which option I choose. I don’t buy it. He needs a fake wife for something, otherwise why try to blackmail me into filling that role? “Just know that I’ve destroyed people much more powerful than you—for the fun of it. Your daddy can’t get you out of this. I’ll eat you alive in court. See you there.” He pulls out his phone.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

Without glancing up, he replies, “Reporting a theft. My security cameras caught it all.” Turning away, he casually strolls along the hallway toward the stairs.

He’s not bragging, or lying, about his capabilities. I know that he’s dangerous, powerful, and can make me disappear with a snap of his fingers. He did it to Viviana, to her and her entire family.

Poof . Gone.

My hands tremble at the memory. Fourteen year old me was devastated.

“Wait!” I stumble after him.

Blake Baron, rightly called The Black Baron by everyone who knows he has a rotten soul, stops and angles toward me. He waits, phone in hand.

“Why? Why do you want me to pretend to be with you?” I ask.

His jaw muscles work, like he doesn’t want to tell me the truth. “That’s none of your business.”

I force a coy smile. “Tell me, or the answer is a hard no .”

How badly does he need me? I’m about to find out, I hope.

The idea of being temporarily married to this man makes my stomach twist, but spending two years in prison would be far, far worse. I’m not prison material. I’d never survive.

But Blake Baron? I might not be able to survive him for twelve months either.

He rakes his fingers through his blond waves. “There’s something I want. To get it, I have to take a wife before I’m thirty-five.”

Thirty-five? God, he’s ancient.

“When do you turn thirty-five?” I ask more out of curiosity than anything, noting that his explanation was vague at best.

“November.”

Fucking hell, we only have a few months. Like six months. I’d be married in less than six months.

Am I really considering doing this?

What choice do I have?

I clear my throat and smooth my sweaty palms down my dress. “Why me? Surely you could blackmail or bribe any woman into being your fake wife.”

Pocketing his phone, he shakes his head. “One of the conditions is that I cannot, in fact, bribe or pay a woman to marry me. However, my step-mother overlooked the possibility of blackmail, so… here we are.” He shrugs, as if he’s not altering the course of my entire life to get what he wants, all seemingly on a whim, on a seized opportunity.

Whatever he’s after must be important to him. But… he’s a selfish bastard for putting me in this position.

An annoying little voice reminds me that I put myself in this position by stealing from the wrong man. Did I really think I wouldn’t get caught?

Yes , yes I did.

Obviously, I’ve gotten far too brazen. Arrogant in my actions. Of course there are security cameras in his house—duh. Now I have to eat humble pie—in the form of whatever Mr. Baron decides to serve up.

I’m so fucked. But the alternative is worse.

With any other situation, I might be able to rely on my father’s contacts to help me out of this, but even Papa knows not to go up against The Black Baron . I could turn to other powerful men, either one of my sisters’ husbands. Roman De Luca has half this city in his pocket, but he’s also Blake’s best friend. Dimitri Kozlov is a Bratva leader, but Mr. Baron saved his life last year so… I’m shit out of luck.

“You said it’s only for a year?” I want to make sure I heard that right.

“That’s correct. A year from our wedding date. We’ll marry this summer, well before my thirty-fifth birthday, give it exactly twelve months and then divorce. As long as our act is convincing, everything will work out.”

“Convincing to who, exactly?” I need to know who we’re deceiving.

My god, I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this, but I don’t see a way out of it. I’ve survived worse than Mr. Baron. I can do this. Can’t I?

“Everybody,” he says. “We will never know who’s watching, so we must convince everyone. Your family and mine. Our friends, too.”

I balk at that. “My sisters will see right through this.”

“Not if you convince them otherwise.” He cocks his head. “I know you’re a good actress, I’ve seen it for myself, just tonight. I have faith in you to lie your way through this situation. If you let me down, our deal is off.”

I scoff at him. “You really love tossing around threats, don’t you? This sounds like I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.”

He bites down on his lower lip, considering, and it’s sexy as hell. “I suppose you’re right. The question is, are you going to give up now and go to prison, or fight like hell to come out of this on the other side?”

I lift my chin high. I might not know what I want to do with my life, and I might have terrible taste in men, but one thing I’m sure of is that I’m a fighter—through and through. Mr. Baron will rue the day he forced me into this. I’ll make sure of it.

“You’ll have the contract drawn up in detail,” I tell him, straightening to my full petite height. “I’ll strike anything I don’t agree with before I sign. I’m available Thursday afternoon to seal this deal. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a party to go to.” And a fuck ton of booze to drink because I think I’m still in denial about what I just agreed to do. Over a year with this… man.

A predatory smile curves his full lips. “Good girl.”

Those two words punch me right in the gut, then melt and slither down to pool between my legs. I involuntarily shiver.

This is a terrible idea. But there’s no turning back now. I don’t have any other choice. I’d never survive prison. I’m beginning to question whether I’ll survive him .

Shit, shit, shit .