“What if everything I said earlier was real. What if I really was in love with you?”
“Eh?” She stares at me.
“I’mnotin love with you, of course.”
“Okay.” She nods slowly.
“Butwhat if I were, and what if I asked you to marry me?”
She freezes.
So do I.
The words hang there, shocking with how right they feel. I said I was in love with her to mess with her ex. I wanted to show him what he's missing out on. I wanted him to be sorry for putting her through that ordeal. And now that he’s walked, and she’s no longer engaged, there’s no reason for me not to act on this insane attraction I feel toward her.
I don’t love her, of course. I’m not stupid enough to get my emotions involved in this situation. But she’s mine to help. Mine to protect. And if I can help ease this situation for her, then why not?
“I—” She coughs. “I thought I heard you ask me to marry you?”
I jerk my chin. “I did.”
She stares at me for a second longer, then begins to laugh. There’s a touch of hysteria to her laughter which tells me I might have sprung this on her a little too quickly. She’s had a huge emotional shock. She needs to digest it.
She needs to understand the ramifications of what I’m proposing. For someone who’s known for being strategic, I sure didn’t think through how to broach this in a way that would inspire confidence in her. And make her say yes.
When she finally subsides. I walk over to her desk, pick up the bottle of water there and hold it out. “Drink it.”
She eyes me with curiosity but does as I ask. Then she places the bottle back on her desk before she rounds it and sinks into her chair. “I’m not sure I can make sense of what you’re saying.”
“It’s simple.” I follow her around her desk and lean a hip against it. “Arthur thought you’d make the perfect bride for me. And if I marry you, I’ll get access to my inheritance with his blessings. And you”—I cross my arms across my chest—“can go ahead with thewedding as planned. No need to cancel the Town Hall appointment. No need to send out a wedding-is-off email to your friends and family. No need to even cancel the reception at the pub, though frankly, I think we could do better than that?—”
“Stop, right there—” She holds up a hand. “You’re saying—” She stares at me with intent. “You’re saying we should get married.” She gestures to the space between us.
“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
She opens and shuts her mouth, then gulps a few breaths. “I think you’re crazy.”
“I’m not. Think about it. Arthur seems to think we’d make a good couple. Which means, he’d bless this marriage right away. And you get to save face and get your plans back on track.”
“I… I…” She seems at a loss for words. “This is completely crazy.” She squeezes the bridge of her nose. “I don’t think?—"
I have a feeling she’s going to say no, so I jump in with, “I’m not asking you for an answer right now. Why don’t you think about it?”
18
Lark
I glance out the window of my apartment. It’s dark and drizzling outside. The weather mirrors my morose mood.
Since that debacle yesterday, I’ve barely slept.
Last night I tossed and turned, unable to close my eyes for more than a few minutes at a time. When I could, I was besieged by images of Brody comforting me and telling me I was smart and beautiful.
At work today, Brody was all business. We sat through meetings together, but he was completely professional. No glance or gesture from him hinted that he’d sprung that insane proposal on me.
Worse, he looked even more devastating than usual. In that form-fitting suit, and with that sharp, focused gaze, he was every inch the billionaire CEO. Meanwhile, I felt like a wilted piece of lettuce.
I stayed late at the office, and by the time I packed up, even Brody had left. When I got back to my flat, I showered, too tired toeven pour myself a glass of wine or think about food, and crawled into bed.
