Page 17 of Sinful Abandon

“Heather, I think you might be confused as to what kind of relationship this is. I want you. I plan to make this official. We’ve spoken of that. But I don’t plan on giving up other women. If we are going to make this work, then you need to understand that.”

“By official, you mean…”

“Marriage. I’m forty years old. It’s time I started a family. You’re young and beautiful. You understand my business and appeal to me in every way.” He steps around the side of my desk, taking a seat in front of me. Placing the velvet box on his lap, Jarrod leans into me and explains, “I plan on marrying only once. I don’t like divorce. They’re messy, and frankly, I don’t like parting with money.” His straight face lets me know he’s not kidding. “You will want for nothing for the rest of your life. And neither will I.”

He opens the box. Inside is a bracelet of diamonds and rubies. The stones glisten, even in the terrible overhead lighting of my office.

As beautiful as the bracelet is, I turn my attention away and up to Jarrod. “Let me get this straight. I can be your wife, but you will also be with other women. Does that mean I can be with other men?”

The velvet box snaps shut.

“There will be a prenup in place. You stray, you pay.”

My stomach falters. I hate the way my conscience is making an appearance right now.

“Why do you want to marry me if I’m not enough?”

He leans in and places a kiss on my cheek. “Because, my darling, you and I only care about one thing. I can’t marry someone who loves me. I need someone who loves my money.”

Had the proposal presented itself yesterday, I would have said yes.

Today, something feels wrong.

“I don’t think I can. Things have”—I pause, looking for the right word—“changed.”

He sits back and studies me for a moment. This conversation is not going as he expected. “Your loss.” He stands up, taking the bracelet with him, and walks to my doorway. His body stills and then turns around. “Something happened, and it has nothing to do with Misty Waters. I have a feeling, you’ll change your mind.”

When he is gone, my head falls to my desk, and I lightly bang it on the wood. The sight of my lavender dress catches my attention, and I shake my head.

And then I bang my head again on the wood.

Spinning around on my desk chair, I look out the window at Chicagoland. It’s a unique city with a river that runs through it. Large steel structures, immense in power and integrity, are separated by the Chicago River that winds its turquoise beauty between the coldness of the city, bringing light and beauty into it.

I feel a simmer under my skin. The blood flowing freely through my heart is just like the river that flows into the lake.

How can I be falling for this guy so hard, so fast?

“You’d better be worth it, Ryan Pierson,” I say to myself with a sigh.

“Heather?” Meg is knocking at my door. She pops her head in. “Here are your notes for the production meeting.”

Good. Work. I need something to distract me from the inner turmoil of my subconscious.

Taking the folder from Meg, I walk down the hall, and she follows me. When I get to the conference room, I walk into the full room, passing the employees I have no interest in ever socializing with, and take my seat on the right, next to where Jarrod sits. Meg sits behind me in a chair against the wall. I need her close, so I can beckon orders to her at my will.

I open my folder and get ready for the meeting.

Jarrod walks in and starts with the numbers for last week’s ratings, putting a spin on them to make them sound better than they actually are. Everyone claps at the show’s success. I roll my eyes.

Next, we go over the afternoon broadcast and talk about the planning, segment for segment. I have a problem with everyone’s assignment and raise my hand in question of each.

The beauty of Jarrod is that he and I think the same way. That’s what attracted him to me in the first place. He likes the way I command the room and thinks I have excellent production skills.

When the show is mapped out and my critiques are delivered, he turns his attention to the last order of business of the morning. “Before we go, we have some new blood in the room. Our fall interns start today. Why don’t you guys stand and tell everyone who you are? Make it quick though. We have a show to run.”

I take a moment to answer emails on my phone as the young twenty-somethings rise from their seats and awkwardly introduce themselves.

Ashley from the University of Illinois tells us she’s a communications major, her voice squeaking, and she wants to be a reporter.