Thismakes no sense. And whatever I was expecting, this isn’t it. I mean, not that I don’t want to hear it.
‘You don’t say sorry.Ever.’
‘Apparentlyeverwas an overstatement. And I do recall saying it to you once before.’
‘Before snatching it back!’
‘Look, do you want to hear this apology or not?’
‘Go for it,’ I say with a little huff, crossing my arms over my chest. The way his eyes track the lift of my breasts does nothing for me.
Also, I’m lying.
‘I’m sorry,’ he begins. ‘I’m sorry for walking out, but I needed the time to clear my head. To work a few things out.’
‘Apologies don’t come with qualifiers,’ I retort. ‘Or else they’re really not apologies at all.’
‘Are you going to let me finish?’ he asks a touch disdainfully, which just lights the fire under my boiler.
‘That depends. Are you going to get to the point sometime soon?’
‘I’m sorry I mistook passion for obsession.’ His jaw flexes and his brows draw together in that fierce way of his. I think his expression has less to do with the possible discomfort of forming apologies, and more with the way I’m looking at him. I strive for an outer nonchalance while inside, my temperature has spiked.
Why do our sniping interactions turn me on?
‘And I’m sorry I didn’t share how I felt with you.’
‘Anything else?’
With an annoyed little pout, he twists his upper body, reaching for the paperwork from his desk. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I loved you.’
Ohmygod, he loves me. But he didn’t even look at me when he said it.
What’s with that?
‘You’ve no comment?’
I shake my head. I’m processing here!
‘Then you should also know I’m sorry you didn’t get to say it first. That I didn’t get to hear you say it.’
‘Who said I was going to say it at all,’ I answer with a little flounce, though a flounce while seated is hardly a flounce at all.
‘You were going to, and I let my fear shut you down.’
‘If you say so.’
‘I do. Do you know what else I say?’
I open my mouth, but no words come out, not as he drops to his knees in front of me. Not as he places the paperwork on my lap and lifts my left hand, producing my diamond wedding band before me. The wedding ring I’d left behind.
‘I say, stay married to me, Olivia. Not for a contract or a company. Not for six months or six years, but for ever.’ His gaze is so hungry, so sincere. Which is just as well, considering his next words. ‘Say yes, darling. You know you want me, or why else would you keep falling at my feet?’
‘You really are... ’
‘The perfect person for you.’
‘I was going to say prick.’
