I’d hoped to get away without inviting any of my family, but my brothers would never allow that.
“My brothers, whoever is in town that is, and my uncle will also attend.”
“That makes sense.” She nods slowly.
“Any expense related to the wedding, including the wedding dress, will be borne by me.”
She purses her lips. “But?—”
“No. I’m not changing my mind on it.”
She arches her eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
That stubborn glint in her eyes causes my heart to sing. A flash of lust tugs at my lower belly. This fire in her is what lightens my soul. I also don’t want to fight with her about this.
“This wedding was my idea. It’s only right I pay for the related expenses.”
Her forehead smooths out. “I suppose that’s logical,” she finally offers.
“I asked Tristan, my uncle and my lawyer, to draw this up in an agreement. I thought it best to write out the expectations, so there won’t be any misunderstandings.”
She takes a step back, as if the thought of having the details down in black and white feels unsavory.
People think marriage should be based on romance. Personally, I’m glad I’m able to list the clauses on paper. It keeps things under control. Outlines expectations on both sides. Makes for less misunderstanding. Less variables which haven’t been considered.
“I’ll show you the contract when you feel ready to see it.”
She wraps her arms around herself, as if trying to distance herself from the practicalities of the situation.
That’s a luxury I don’t have.
“It’s best to outline everything in as much detail as possible, so it protects the both of us,” I say softly.
She searches my features, and whatever she sees there makes her sigh. “I suppose, it’s best to have it in black and white.”
I release a breath. I’ve come further than I expected. I’m glad I didn’t bring the contract with me. That might have freaked her out. This way, I can introduce her to the concept, walk her through its contents, and she can read it in a few days’ time, when she’s had time to digest what I’ve told her so far.
There’s one more thing I must do.
"Will it help if I apologize for all the times I was a jerk?" I shift myweight from foot to foot. “In my defense, I treat all my staff that way. And I didn’t want them to feel I was giving you any special treatment, since you’re my sister’s best friend."
"You succeeded. I was… Am still convinced that you hate me."
I raise a shoulder. "I hate everyone. It’s not personal.”
She huffs out a laugh. “You have a hell of an ego.”
The tension between us instantly defuses. Not the lust though. Seeing her smile only spikes this weird sensation in my chest, and makes my fingers itch to touch her. Hold her and kiss her. I find myself swaying toward her and stop myself.
Then, to be sure I don’t touch her, I stuff my hands in the pockets of my slacks.
"My ego gives me the confidence to keep going in this crazy profession. Why else would anyone put themselves through running a restaurant, when it means working around the clock and all days of the week and not having a personal life?”
"I ask myself that question often. The difference is, I don’t think I can afford to have an ego." She lowers her chin. "Not when I’m also dependent on the job for the money."
"There are easier ways of earning a living," I point out.
Her gaze grows contemplative. "I feel closest to my father when I'm cooking. He loved taking care of us. It’s he who made us breakfast and dinner most days. Our parents died in an accident when I was eighteen.”
