A sly grin stretched the corners of his lips.
"Where do you think you're going? We're not done for tonight."
Verena forced her saliva down her throat as she wiggled her wrist to free herself from him, but his grip tightened.
"Let me go," she demanded, her eyes glaring daggers at him.
"Why are you always so angry when you see me?" Rodrigo questioned, moving closer to her, towering her with the 6'3 height that made her crane her neck to look at him.
"Let me go," she repeated.
"You don't want to marry me but guess what? You don't have a say in these," he reminded her.
She knew she had no say, she had no choice ever since she was born. And things have gotten worse all because of her father's mistake.
Being a mob boss, he'd killed the leader of a dangerous Russian clan and now they're out to get him and his family. He had no choice but to ask the Gromov's for help with weapons and now Rodrigo seized the opportunity to ask for marriage.
