"Are you mad?" Mark Reed pressed closely against her, warm breath brushing her ear, tickling and tingling her heart.
"I don't want to marry you."
Valentine Teller pouted, her voice coming from the depths of her heart. Marrying him—how tragic that would be, fraught with troubles inside and out, destined to make her old before her time.
"You don't have to marry me."
He paused and said undeniably, "Unless I'm dead, and you step over my corpse, that's the only way you can marry someone else."
Valentine's heart skipped a beat. His words were too heavy, making her anxious.
She didn't want to hear about life or death. Living is so good.
"You're really annoying, really hateful." Valentine pulled the covers over her head. She didn't want to talk to him. Did he think saying such things would move her? It only made her dislike him even more. It sounded like a threat, making her uncomfortable.
