"So what is your decision? Make it now," I snap. "Why me?" "What?" "Why me? Why marry me?" "Because you’re perfect." I say the words quietly, before I know I’ve let them out. "I’m not perfect," she says with a slight shake of the head, a line pulling between her brows. My tone turns steely and business-like. "That is for me to decide, not you. Now I need your answer. Yes or no." "Yes." It’s so soft I’m not sure I heard it. "What was that?" I need to hear it. Her acquiescence. I may know that everything and everyone has a price, but I don’t tire of winning. "I’ll marry you," she says clearly
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