“Botherme? I’m not the one people are calling names. Well, mostly.”
“I know.” Her tone says she doesn’t understand what the problem is.
“Don’t you want to explain things? Set the record straight?”
“My policy is never explain, never complain. Just makes things worse.” Her lips are curved into a perfect smile, and she tilts her head in that playful don’t-you-agree? way. But a glimmer of resignation and bitterness fleets across her face like a rain cloud. It isn’t that she doesn’t want to explain herself—she’s convinced nobody will believe her. And she’s going to cope by pretending she isn’t affected, no matter how many people point fingers and judge her.
Without thinking, I reach over and take her hand in mine, the two stones on her Toi et Moi pricking my palm. Her mouth sags slightly as she stares at me.
Shit. I didn’t mean to do that, but when she’s trying to be brave in the face of unjust criticism, I just…
I just don’t like people getting screwed for something they didn’t do, I tell myself. I still haven’t forgiven her for forcing me into this untenable marriage.
“No fiancée of mine will put up with bullshit,” I say.
Her face colors. “It’ll blow over.” She clears her throat. “But are you and Gabriella okay?”
The unguarded concern throws me off for a second. “We’re fine.” Although stuff like this irritates me, whether she admits it or not, Gabriella loves the attention. To her, the worst thing that can happen is nobody talking about her.
Relief eases the set of Lucienne’s shoulders. Her consideration is surprising. It also makes me wonder if she’s really as terrible as the stories make her out to be. My dad wouldn’t have given a damn. The idea that I could’ve judged her too harshly is disquieting. “You seem unwilling to have your PR team earn their salary, so I’ll take care of it.”
She looks at me like she doesn’t know what to make of the offer.
“What? It’s not a trap,” I say, annoyed at her wariness.
“I… That isn’t…” She sighs. “Right now, they’re after me. If you try to get in the way, they might go after you, too. It isn’t worth it.”
I hold her gaze, oscillating between being touched and insulted. “I’m a big boy. And I can shield you from those wolves.”
She shifts. “All right, then. I’ll leave it up to you.” She straightens her shoulders. “But you may not have to do anything. It might be easier to quash the gossip if we just go ahead and elope as soon as possible.”
“Elope?”
“You wanted a very basic civil ceremony without any guests, and an impulsive elopement fits the bill perfectly.”
True…
“A friend of mine is a judge in San Francisco, and he agreed to officiate the ceremony for us. Tomorrow at five thirty, if that’s something you can manage. It’s Thursday, so the timing might be a little tight, especially with us having to be back for work on Friday. But we can pick another date if you want. I’m sure he can be flexible.”
The rushed timing is surprising—I didn’t think she was the type to act so fast. The contract between my family and her specifies that we get married before the year’s over, but there’s no point in delaying things. I don’t need a chore I can’t escape hanging over me for the rest of the year. It’ll just sap my mental energy. “Tomorrow’s fine.”
“Excellent.” She beams. “And thank you for being so agreeable. I’ll have our rings ready.”
Chapter 10
Lucienne
“This entire venture is doomed to fail.”
Mental fatigue.That’s what this negative voice is generating. I smooth my expression and gaze at Darren. He always appears in my office after our afternoon meetings to tell me I’m wrong. Ever since I caught him with his assistant, he’s dedicated his life to informing me how wrong I am on every metric.
What he really wants to say is I was wrong not to go ahead with our marriage.
He firmly believes that men occasionally make mistakes, and it’s “a woman’s lot in life” to let those mistakes go. As he stands opposite my desk and stares down at me, he looks awfully like one of those humorless old-time Jesuits—minus the somber piety, fiery intellect and thick beard. But he has the scowl down pat.
Even if he hadn’t cheated on me, our marriage would’ve been a spectacular failure.
“We can agree to disagree.” I give him a we-can-agree-you’re-wrong smile.
