He stepped closer. “Because you married his little bitch.”
I kept my gaze locked on him, my chin angled up because he was five inches taller than me. I was considered to be a big man, six three with two hundred pounds of muscle. But this guy was a fucking mutant. What the hell was Martin thinking, making a deal with this freak? “I don’t see the relevance.”
“Don’t be coy with me. That bastard set me back millions—hundreds of millions. The banks took all of his possessions, and I’m the one left hanging.”
“Then you should have gotten some collateral.”
He came even closer to me. “She is the collateral.”
I didn’t move an inch, not backing down to any man. He may be bigger, but I still had the upper hand.
“The sins of the father are not the sins of the daughter. She had no idea what he was doing with their money. He lost everything—and so did she. You want to take her for all she’s got, but she’s broke.”
“She’s not broke anymore…not when she’s married to you.”
“I’m not giving you anything, Kamikaze. You already knew that before you came here, so I hope you have something better to say.”
He cocked his head slightly. “I do, actually. I want her.”
“Her? As in my wife?”
“Yes. You already knew that, so I hope you have something better to say.” He echoed my own words back at me, knowing I was trying to downplay this as much as possible.
“I’m not giving her to you. And even if I did, it doesn’t fix your problem.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. A beautiful woman like that could be sold for tens of millions, if not more. She could work off her debt to me—one fuck at a time. With tits like that and pipes that can shatter glass, men would pay a lot for her. And I’m not the only man Martin screwed over—so men would pay a fortune for their revenge.”
Arwen would fight him hard, and that resilience would only make her more desirable. I hadn’t fucked her, but I could understand the desire. She was beautiful, curvy, and she could definitely sing. “I’m not giving you my wife. Come near her, and I’ll kill you.”
“I understand you had nothing to do with Martin’s idiocy. I’m an honorable guy. You think I’d just take her from you?”
We had different definitions of honorable.
“No,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll pay you for her. That’s fair.”
If she knew this conversation was taking place, she would lose her shit.
“I’ll give you a very generous offer—five million.”
Martin was dead, and I had the information I needed to kill Ramon. It would be easy to hand her off and go back to my old life—along with some change in my pocket. But I’d made a promise to that man—and I would keep it. “No.”
His eyes narrowed in displeasure. “Ten.”
“Let me save you some time. She’s not for sale.” I turned back to the gate, dismissing the conversation. “I’m sorry the deal with Martin went south. But my wife isn’t for sale—for any price.”
I sat at the dining table staring out the window that overlooked the backyard, the space where we held the wedding. I could have rented out the most beautiful church in the city or picked another place to hold the ceremony, but the grounds of my estate were perfect. And since we had the wedding on such short notice, it was our only option.
I sipped my coffee and opened the newspaper.
Footsteps sounded behind me, a pace that was far too quick for Abigail. She always moved around the house at a remarkable speed, but she somehow seemed so poised and calm as she did. Her shoes wouldn’t make such a ruckus. So it could only be one person.
In the same clothes she’d worn the night before, Arwen entered the dining room. “Morning.” She placed her purse on the table and took a seat, her makeup gone and her hair a little messier than it was when she left last night.
It was the first time I’d seen her not wearing pounds of mascara and thick eyeliner. With the foundation gone, her complexion really shone through, unblemished and beautiful. Her skin was lovely, and her eyes seemed to stand out even more when she was bare.
She poured herself a cup of coffee then added two cubes of sugar.
I stared at her for another moment before I turned back to my newspaper. I didn’t ask about her night because I didn’t give a damn. While she was getting fucked by Dante, I was fucking what’s-her-name.
She stirred her coffee and took a drink. “How was your night?”
A group of assholes showed up at my doorstep and caused trouble. So, it was pretty shitty. “Fine.” I still didn’t ask about hers.
She seemed to understand I was in a mood, so she stopped asking questions.