Ruthless Monarch

“And I’m willing to listen to your requests.”

“Listening is all fine and dandy, but how can I trust you to fulfill them?” I counter.

The smirk drops, and it is replaced by a flat line. “I am a man of my word. I will never lie, and I will always be straightforward. If I give you my word, my word is god.” His voice is full of conviction, and even though I know I shouldn’t trust him, I trust he will honor it.

“It’s a marriage in name only,” I say.

“Agreed.”

“After you get what you want, you will allow me to divorce you.”

“That’s a no.”

“But—”

“There are no buts. There are no objections. Once we get married, you will be my wife.”

My mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, gulping for air. There is no way I’m going to enter into this pact without an escape plan. “But then how can it be in name only—”

“I won’t love you.”

“But then . . .?”

“I expect you to be faithful. I expect you to eventually bear my children, but I will never love you.”

“And you? Will you be faithful?”

He levels me with a look that makes it obvious he thinks I’m an idiot. Of course, he won’t be. I know men like him. Men like my father. They are all cut from the same cloth.

My teeth grind together. There are many not so nice words sitting heavy on my tongue. Instead of shouting them out, I take a long, deep inhale and then blow the air out of my mouth. It does little to calm me. I refuse to be married to a cheating pig. “No.” My head shakes back and forth. “I won’t marry you and be faithful unless you agree too. That wouldn’t be fair.”

“Life isn’t fair.”

“You can’t expect me to be one thing and then you don’t follow by the same rules. . .”

“Again, I think you misunderstand what is happening here. There isn’t a democracy. You don’t get a vote. You will marry me. Regardless of your belief that you have a say in it, you don’t.”

“No,” I say again, and now my voice is higher pitch. But he doesn’t seem swayed at all. Instead, he looks like he’s having fun at my expense. “You’re an asshole.”

“If I was an asshole, I would leave you to my cousin. Do you know the difference between my cousin and me?” I keep quiet, not wanting to hear what he has to say. “The difference is . . . I won’t touch you unless you ask. I will take care of you. Once we are married, if you make me happy, I’ll make you happy in return. But he . . . let’s just say he will use and abuse you, and after he gets whatever he wants from your father, he’ll get sick of you.” He pauses for a moment. “You’ll probably end up dead or worse.”

He doesn’t say anything more.

“I gave you time to try to make the right decision, but since you obviously can’t and won’t come willingly, I’m making it for you.” He stands. “Let’s go.”

“What? Go?”

“Yes. We have to get stuff ready.”

“Ready for what?” I sound like an idiot. I know this, but I can’t wrap my head around what’s going on.

“We’re getting married.”

My eyes go wide. “Now? Like, tonight?”

It feels like my head is spinning, as if I’m on a merry-go-round, and I’ve just stepped off. The world’s out of focus. He’s speaking, but I can’t make out his words over the ringing in my ears. I shake my head, pushing the fog away.

“No, Viviana. We are not getting married today.” His voice is low and condescending. I want to take off my spiked heel and throw it at him, but something, and not just the gun still pointed at me, makes me think that’s a bad idea.

“When are we getting married?” My voice cracks.

“We will be getting married later this week.”

The breath I didn’t know I was holding escapes my lips in an audible sigh.

“Oh. Okay . . . good, and here I thought you were secretly an ordained priest, and we would be hitched by the end of the day,” I murmur under my breath, but still loud enough for him to hear me.

I wait for him to make a sarcastic quip of his own, but instead, he nods, looking at me expectantly.

“Now that we have that settled. We have to leave, Princess.”

This has me really confused. He just said I have a few days. I take a step back, distancing myself from him.

“Why would I go anywhere with you?” I ask.

“One, I’m your future husband. Two, I wouldn’t put it past your father to force your hand just to spite me.”

“But why? I really don’t understand why everyone wants to marry me so badly. None of this makes sense at all.”