“Yes. Outside of my immediate family, she’s the only one who knows. So, it’s important you only speak to her. Everyone else will be told the same story I feed the press.”
“Okay. Won’t the staff know that we haven’t been dating for a year?”
“No. You’re the first woman apart from my stepmother and sister to step inside my home.”
At first, I think he’s pulling my leg, but then I realize he’s not. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“You’ve never brought a girlfriend here?”
“Men like me don’t have girlfriends, love.”
Of course, they don’t. “Right.”
“Anyway, Sheila will have a lot for you to do this week, from paperwork to wedding dress fittings. Make sure you’re available.”
“Sure, but I have work and other things to attend to, like my mom.”
“Of course. Be there for your mother when she needs you but forget about work. You’re going to be my wife. You don’t need to work.”
I let out a nervous, shocked laugh. “What do you mean, I don’t need to work? Of course, I need to work. I have a job at the theatre.”
“That job pays peanuts for the hours you put in. It’s better if you don’t go.”
“Unlike you, Mr. Forbes, if I don’t work, I don’t get paid.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. Before I can blink, he produces a sleek black credit card. The kind that doesn’t need a logo to announce what it is. Just the glint of the chip and that cold metallic edge says enough.
My mouth falls open when he slides it toward me.
“That’s yours. It has a hundred-thousand-dollar limit. Anything above that goes through me.”
My breath catches and I stare at him, stunned. “I… I can’t take your money.”
Again, he laughs. “You’d be the first person to say that.”
“I’m serious. I’m not taking your money.”
“It’s not a request.” He taps the space near the card. “And it’s part of the contract. Don’t make me go quoting again.”
“Please don’t.” I groan.
“Great. Any questions?”
I have so many, but my thoughts are crashing around in my mind like waves in a tempest. And I’m dazed. Dazed from him giving me his credit card.
Despite that, I do have one pressing question that’s been eating me alive. “What will we do with the restaurant? I mean at the end? I figured you’d want to sell it to get your money back. I just want to know if I’m right.”
He studies me quietly, his gaze lingering long enough to make my pulse falter.
It’s unsettling, the way he looks at me, like he can see straight through the armor I’ve barely managed to hold together.
“It should be sold,” he finally answers.
“Of course. But what if I can hypothetically get your money back and pay off the loan? I know it… it doesn’t compensate the other things my father did, but I thought I’d ask.” That’s me following Mia’s advice.
The curiosity in his eyes morphs into full-blown fascination. “How in the hell are you going to get a hundred grand to pay me back? And before you even think of it,no, you can’t use the credit card for that.”
