“Eventually,” Marco continued, “he learned I had a legal problem of my own.”
“What problem?”
“A family trust.
I take full control of certain assets at thirty-five only if I am legally married before the deadline.
Otherwise control passes outside my hands for years.”
I frowned.
“So you decided to buy a wife.”
“I decided a contractual marriage was cleaner than pretending to love someone.”
His bluntness almost made me admire him.
Almost.
“And my father volunteered me?”
Silence.
I turned toward Robert.
He looked smaller than he had at the airport.
“I mentioned you,” he whispered.
My throat tightened.
“You mentioned me.”
“I was desperate.”
“You showed them a picture?”
His silence answered before his mouth did.
“I showed Marco your graduation photo.”
I stood so fast the chair scraped across the floor.
For the first time that night, anger burned hotter than fear.
“You had no right.”
“I know.”
“No.
You don’t.
You put my face on the table beside your debt and asked whether it was enough.”
Robert covered his mouth.
Tears gathered in his eyes.
I felt nothing when I saw them.
Not then.
Marco remained seated.
“He didn’t negotiate your value,” he said.
I snapped toward him.
“That is a very low bar.”
“I agree.”
That surprised me enough to stop me.
Marco pushed the contract back toward my side of the table.
“Your father proposed the arrangement.
I refused to discuss it until you were present.
He was told you could say no.”
I looked at Robert.
“Is that true?”
He nodded.
“Then why did you make me think we were running for our lives?”
“Because I thought you’d refuse if I told you before we came.”
The betrayal was almost elegant in its simplicity.
He had not kidnapped me.
He had manipulated the one thing he knew I would never ignore: his fear.
I closed the folder.
“I’m leaving.”
Robert went pale.
“Lena.”
Marco stood.
“I’ll have a car take you anywhere you want.”
