Her heartfelt, genuine thank you seeps through me, warm and intoxicating, like the best Macallan. Fuck it, not even the best whiskey makes me feel this powerful and powerless at the same time.
Like my next breath already depends on her next thank you, her next smile, next sass.
If I were a better man, I would acknowledge that this cloud will hit the truth head-on.
It will burst into a storm of epic proportions. But I let myself float on it, anyway. Fuck the consequences. I want to collect these moments with her.
I drink in her gratitude and just study her for a moment. She’s feeling better, and she said yes to my fucked-up scheme.
This morning couldn’t get any better.
The talk about her good-for-nothing fiancé dampened the mood a little. I don’t feel in competition with the guy a decade later. I still hate his guts for knowing her before me, as irrational as that is. For winning her before me.
But that’s not the real problem here. I should tell Cora what a douche he was, but I would have to explain where my information comes from.
Roxy’s file on Cora wasn’t the most comprehensive, but it was informative enough. I didn’t even think twice before I sold the bike. She doesn’t need that kind of trauma in her life.
“Do you have any other conditions?” I rasp, the moment between us tightening my throat.
“I think I covered all my concerns. But I have a question.”
The air is thick with our need, and I stifle the groan. “Ask away.”
“How long do we stay married?”
Forever.
And fuck, why is she already thinking about the end? We haven’t even started. I’m not planning to be done with her anytime soon.
It makes no sense. It’s not my usual modus operandi. It’s inconvenient. But I still don’t want to change it.
Coraline Winslow is mine.
“One year maximum, to make sure I can deliver on my side of the bargain. Or we can divorce as soon as I get the board seat,” I lie.
I don’t even feel bad about it. It’s a placating lie, so she stops overthinking this.
“Okay. And then what? We just stop pretending in front of people? Your father will see through that.”
Even in a moment like this, giving up her freedom, she thinks of my relationship with my father. It’s satisfying and infuriating. Has she ever put herself first?
“Let’s worry about that when the time comes.”
If the time comes.
It won’t.
“Okay. I’m concerned about meeting your family, though. I don’t belong in your world.”
“Cora, the last time I checked, you’ve been a part of my world for a few months now. Stop feeling less, stop projecting thisyou’re not enoughattitude. It doesn’t suit you. You sass me all the time; I’m sure you can stand your ground in any situation.”
She lets out the air through pursed lips, her expression skeptical. “I wish I had your confidence about this, but okay. Do you have any questions?”
“How many cats do you really have?” I ask, to lighten the mood that got too serious for my liking, but also because, fuck, I really hope it’s just the two of them.
She laughs, and it’s like the most moving musical score. I want to make her laugh. All. The. Time.
“You will have to count them yourself.” She bites her lip.
