RHEA
“Marry me, Rhea Ashford. Be my wife.”
What?
That’s all my brain can manage. I just stare at him, mouth open, frozen.
He doesn’t care. He pulls back, like he didn’t just drop a bomb in my chest, and folds his arms.
“I answered all three of your questions, Dot,” he says calmly. “You can’t keep pretending you don’t know anything about me now.”
I gape at him. Unsure if I believe my ears. He laughs.
“Wow,” he says. “Is that all it takes to shut you up? I don’t like it. I much prefer it when you’re pushing every last one of my buttons.”
I barely hear him. My ears are still ringing.
“You want me to marry you?” I finally manage.
“Do I need to get on one knee for it to count?”
I bark out a laugh, sharp and disbelieving. “I’m not some innocent maiden from the 1600s. You don’t have to
