Page 4 of No Fear

“It’s important to my mom. Can you not just do this for her? For me?” His steel gray eyes locked on hers and his voice softened. He relaxed his grip.

“OK. I’ll wear it,” she said quietly, so tired of the arguments. It was easier to give in. Wasn’t this supposed to be a happy time? Planning her wedding?

“That’s my girl.” He smiled and pulled her against him. “Thank you, Charlotte, for understanding and doing this for me. It will be perfect, you’ll see.”

Charlotte. After being together a year, he still refused to call her Charlie. He said it was a nickname, and not suitable for the beautiful woman she was. Flattered by the compliment, she didn't mind at first. A couple of months later she realized everyone had reverted to calling her Charlotte. Everyone except her best friend Maddie.

Nate had been the first person to call her Charlie. Growing up she had been a bit of a tomboy, and her brother had jokingly said she should have been called Charlie. It had been said teasingly and with love, but it had stuck. Damn, she missed Nate so much. Her big brother had been just a year older. They had been so close.

“Mom’s expecting you for a fitting this weekend,” Simon said as he stepped away.

Absently, she rubbed her upper arms, knowing his grip had probably left red marks. Simon wasn’t the tallest at five foot seven, but he worked out daily, giving him a stocky build of muscle. He didn't know his own strength. At five feet two, Charlie wasn’t thin but was no match to his build, and she tended to bruise easily. Simon seemed to forget that. A lot.

“I can’t. I’m leaving for assignment, remember?” she said, reminding him for what seemed like the sixth time this week. Her job as administrative support for the US government, took her all over the world. She regularly traveled to embassies to assist in preparing for the foreign dignitary's arrival or filled in for their personnel on leave or out sick. Basically, anywhere there was a need she could be sent. Sometimes she was gone a few days, sometimes weeks.

“Oh, right. Where are you going again?” he asked while buttoning his shirt.

“Simon, we spoke about this last night.” She ran a hand through her blond curls, not hiding her frustration.

When he turned, his expression was tense. “I am in the middle of the biggest real estate deal our company has ever done. My mind is a little preoccupied with that, not with your travel itinerary. You’re always leaving. You can't expect me to remember.”

At his harsh tone, she turned away. He used to remember. He used to be waiting at the airport every time she got back.

“I’m not going far. Canada. Toronto. I’m covering for the personal assistant to the US Consul. She’s getting married and taking a honeymoon.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Two weeks.”

“Two weeks? Jesus. Well, OK. Call my mom. I’m sure she can postpone the fitting until you get back. At least, once we’re married, we won't have to worry about this anymore.”

Charlie frowned. “Worry about what?”

“You leaving all the time.”

Unease bubbled in her stomach. “I don’t understand. I’ll still be working.”

Simon smiled. “No wife of mine is going to be working as an administrative assistant for the government and going to some of those godawful countries that you go to. We talked about this.”

Her unease changed to anger, and she stood, hands on hips, determined to be strong.

“We did not. I never said I would stop working. I love my job.” She stared at him, waiting for him to say he was sorry. That he misunderstood. When he stalked toward her, she instinctively backed up, hitting the bedroom wall.

He smiled, but it never reached his eyes. His finger traced down her cheek.

“Charlotte, darling. I will give you everything you need and want. You know money is no object for us. I don’t want you working. I don't want you in danger. I love you, and I want you here with me. You understand, don’t you?”

What?! Charlie swallowed. He continued to smile at her. The plastic forced smile she’d seen at too many client dinners and galas. It was aimed at her a lot lately.

“I mean, if you really want to work, I’ll find you something at the company until you get pregnant. Then you can be a stay-at-home mom. Most women would love that.” His smile widened as he stroked her hair.

“I don’t want to leave my job,” she whispered.

“Are you saying you don’t want to be with me, be a mom, have a family?”

“No. That’s not what I said. I love my job. You travel with your job, and I travel with mine. You’ve never had a problem with this before. When we have a family, we can discuss it again.” Did he not see how unreasonable he was being?

He dropped his hand and stepped back. “The problem is you will be my wife. And I expect my wife to want to be at home with me. Is that too much to ask?”