The American

Draco watched her blue eyes turn back towards him, and she must have finally seen that he was serious.

“Is this a proposal?”

“Yes, I just don’t have a ring.”

“You are proposing marriage to a married woman?”

“You are MY WOMAN.”

“I am married, Draco. What do you want me to do with my daughter?” 

“Who says she cannot be mine?” He returned, staring at her. 

He would love anything that came out of her body, and he wanted a large family, so the more children she already had, the better. 

She was speechlessly staring at him now. 

“So you see, let the wh*re have your simp and start a new life with me.” He said, and that seemed to break whatever spell he had on her so far. 

The resolved, angry Ophelia was back.

“I would die before I lost to Ariel!” She said,

“So that is what this is about. You just do not want to lose.”

“How can you even suggest I run away from my marriage like a coward and leave my husband to a girl who is not even twenty-five?”

“What if she doesn't get him? It would cost me nothing to get her back on a train to the city of death.”

“No one else can have Blaine either. Do you know what I had to do to get Blaine back to his position as heir?”

Draco was watching her, wondering what she had to do. 

He did not put it past her to murder. Opelia was possessive and could become vicious when she felt threatened. 

She had beat his wh*res when they were still in a relationship.

But when that aristocratic simp came into the picture, she stopped caring. 

He wanted her to care for him again as much as she did then, as much as she did for this husband of hers now. 

But all that would never happen as long as that man remained alive. Ophelia was too blinded by him to see anyone.

He kissed the top of one of her breasts and looked up into her intense blue eyes, “There’s a way to make certain no other woman has your husband, even when you are with me.”

She was looking at him in deep concentration as he spoke, and then she finally got his meaning.

“That’s a bad joke, Draco.” Unlike typical fashion, she was not yelling. Her voice was low but serious, and her eyes were steady on his.

“Now you are beginning to make me see your husband as a problem. And you know what I do to problems.” he said through gritted teeth, and he felt his face full of the cold drink he had given her earlier.

It burned his eyes.

“How dare you say that to my face?” She screamed. 

He reached out, and grabbed the hem of her dress. 

He yanked her to himself, hearing the fabric rip a little, and he used the cloth to wipe stinging eyes clean, and then his face.

“You can always come to me as a widow, Ophelia.” He said calmly, looking up at her now, and she knew him well enough to mind her words from here on out till she left. 

He was barely holding back his demons.

“You’ll really hurt me like that?”

“Love hurts, I guess.” He shrugged. “How do you think I felt watching you marry and live with another man all this time?” 

She was looking at him with an open mouth now, “I thought you moved on.”

That pissed him off, and he stood up and grabbed her to himself. 

“Move on? We were together for ten years!” he yelled. “You wanted a man your father would approve of, so I made what your greedy father liked the most, money. I made money and then more money.” 

“I told you to move on.” She looked up at him with wide eyes, and he could see fear in her eyes now. 

Good, because the way he was feeling now, he could hurt her, he could hurt her bad, even though he would hate himself later.

“Stop talking.” He gripped her chin. “You cannot tell me to move on. We will spend a lifetime together. You have given your father what he wanted and bought the respect you love so much from your country. You have married the man they all approve of. It’s all done now.”

“Is this why you suddenly re-entered my life?”

He laughed. “You came here. You came running to me after getting into yet another trouble. I would have given you a couple more years to live your picturesque life, but you came here.”

She stood still, watching him in contemplation now.

“You cannot force me to marry you. What if I say no?”

He laughed and let her go. 

“You keep forgetting Ophelia, we were cut out of the same cloth.” He drank the remaining alcohol in the glass she had splashed on his face. “I feel the exact same way as you do. Like you said with your husband minutes ago," If I can’t have you, Blaine Tucker won’t either.”

Her eyes widened at this, and she must have realized he knew more than she thought he did. 

He always acted nonchalant and disinterested, like he could not pronounce one Asian name from the next, or tell them apart.

That was what his enemies f*cking did too. They keep forgetting he has been in this country since he was a boy. 

Of course, he knew them. 

“Draco!” She called, and he looked up at her. 

The fear was gone out of her eyes now as she walked towards him. She placed her hand on his chest and looked up into his eyes.

“The day you touch a strand of hair on my husband’s head, I will bring a blade here and slit my throat in front of you.”

He froze, his spine suddenly feeling like an iron rod. 

He had known Ophelia long enough to realize that she never made empty threats.

“You are mine, Ophelia. You cannot even die without my leave,” he said, staring back at her.

She smirked at him, “Whenever you want to test that theory, dear lover. Hurt Blaine and we’ll see.”

As he watched her now, he was grateful he had not made the mistake of killing the American woman. 

Of course, he wanted to grow old with Ophelia, and the only way for that to happen was when the American stole Ophelia’s husband.

It would break her heart, but he would be here to console her, and then she would be his forever. 

He raised his hand up and caressed her face softly now, and then suddenly gripped her hair behind her head tightly. 

She continued looking at him defiantly.

He bit his lip as he thought about how he would burn her whole country down before he left this place without her as his wife. 

He bent his head then, and kissed her.