“So this is a business decision.”
“No,” he says quietly.
For a moment, I just stare at him.
This man—this empire-wearing, diamond-dealing legend in the making—just blew up a mergerbecause of me.
And he still hasn’t looked away.
“Besides,” he adds, stepping closer, “we’ll need to marry quickly. I don’t want my friends suspecting it’s arranged.”
I raise a brow. “Oh, right. We wouldn’t want them thinking this iscrazy.”
“They’d believe it was love at first sight.” He says almost to himself.
I blink. “Seriously?”
He doesn’t even hesitate.
“For you?” he says. “They would.”
My stomach flips.
Goddamn it.
I take a step back, needing space to breathe.
Langston Blackwell doesn’t move. He just watches me like I’ve become the most interesting thing in a room full of people who think they own the world.
“Look,” I say, lifting my chin, “you don’t want me.”
His brow rises, but I don’t let him speak.
“I didn’t go to boarding school. I didn’t intern with diplomats or memorize wine pairings. I don’t ‘network,’ I don’t brunch, and I definitely don’t wear pastels.”
His mouth starts to twitch.
“I rub elbows with bartenders and bouncers. My favorite shoes are combat boots. I once flipped off a congressman who grabbed my ass—while holding a tray of tequila shots. I swear like it’s an art form. I’d rather scrub toilets in a dive bar than sit through a country club dinner pretending I care about hedge funds or yacht stocks or whatever rich people complain about these days.”
Now he’s smiling.
Fully smiling.
God, he has the nerve toenjoythis.
“My mom raised me to earn my keep, not marry rich. I can cook a full meal from scratch, fix a broken sink, and drive a stick shift—backward. But I can’t play piano or speak French, and I don’t give a damn what the market’s doing unless it means my rent’s going up.”
His eyes are practically sparkling now.
“I don’t do quiet. I don’t do meek. And I’m not going to be some diamond-on-a-leash you can parade at galas. I drink whiskey, not wine. I wear leather jackets, not lace. I will ruin your brand.”
Langston tilts his head.
Like I’m a riddle he wants to memorize.
And then?
He doesn’t say a word.
