Arsène flicked the needle of his syringe before slipping it back into his coat, his gaze settling on the woman he’d just injected.

He didn’t know her name.

Nor did he particularly care.

This sort of thing wasn’t unusual for him.

Arsène Migliore had been born into one of the oldest bloodlines in the country—a family renowned for mastering a single craft.

Poison.

It was an odd profession, but an incredibly lucrative one. People would pay an absurd amount to have one person disappear, and the Migliores had spent generations perfecting toxins capable of doing exactly that.

Arsène could brew something lethal with his eyes closed. Slip poison into a drink that wouldn’t take effect until the third sip. Create concoctions so precise they could imitate natural illness.

It was second nature.

Today’s assignment was no different.

The woman restrained before him was, according to his client, a notorious marriage swindler—a beautiful con artist who charmed wealthy men and women alike before disappearing with their money.

She wasn’t actually a woman.

Arsène simply didn’t know that yet.

“Strike,” he said, returning his attention to her. “That’s the name of the poison I injected. In about five minutes, you’ll experience the worst pain you’ve ever felt.”

His explanation was interrupted by the ringtone vibrating in his pocket.

“…One second.”

He answered.

“…I’m doing it,” Ivy’s voice came immediately. “The marriage. Don’t try to stop me. It’ll only make things harder for everyone.”

“Ivy, wai—”

The line went dead.

Arsène lowered the phone slowly, staring at the darkened screen.

His sister had always refused their family’s demands to continue the Migliore bloodline, choosing instead to stay with the woman she loved.

Now…

She was giving that up.

For him.

No.

He wasn’t going to let that happen.

Almost instinctively, his gaze lifted back to the marriage swindler. Strike had already begun to take effect, her breathing growing uneven as she shifted weakly against the ropes.

“…Do you want to live?”

She looked at him as though he’d lost his mind.

“What’s the point of asking me that?” she replied bluntly. “You’re the one who poisoned me. Are you just trying to rub it in?”

Arsène’s grip tightened around his phone.

“…No.”

His sister’s voice still echoed in his mind.

I’m doing it.

Don’t try to stop me.

He’d promised himself she would never have to abandon the person she loved for the sake of their family’s bloodline.

There had to be another way.

His eyes met hers once more.

“…If you marry me,” Arsène said, with complete sincerity, “I’ll save you.”

It was, without question, the most absurd proposal either of them had ever heard.

And somehow…

He was completely serious.