Deceptive Marriage

"You can choose." He placed a gun on the table in front of me, the cold metal glinting ominously under the light.

"You can die pathetically..." He prolonged his word before he continued.

"Or marry me and have your revenge on them," he placed a red wedding ring box beside the gun with a deliberate slowness.

"Whatever you choose, it has nothing to do with me. In fact, I don't lose in the end." His words were like those of a cunning wolf, calculating and predatory.

He leaned closer, his hand brushing against the end of my hair.

"But also, I don't mind you using me. In return, you must be my wife." His voice softened, almost tender, as he kissed the strands of my hair he held, his eyes burning with a desire that sent chills down my spine.

My heart raced, the weight of his offer pressing down on me. Before I could respond, he grinned, a cruel glint in his eyes.

"I'll leave and give you time to think," he said, turning on his heel and walking away from me.

Just before he reached the door, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder.

"I hope that when I return, it's not your cold body I find," he said, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Because I prefer you warm and kicking."