Page 95 of Mercy & Malice

“Oh, shit,” Luca mutters, walking towards the door as he maneuvers around me. “I’ll come back later.”

We stand there in a silent stare down until I ask, “Anything to say for yourself?”

“You don’t need the job.”

I thrust my hands in the air at his idiotic response and laugh, feeling crazy. “That’s not your choice to make.”

He states casually, “Maybe I should’ve gone about it in a different way.”

“Ya think?” I shout.

“Yes. But that doesn’t change the fact you don’t need the job, and you should be free to focus on school or whatever you want.” Walking over to his dresser, he grabs a manila envelope off it, then passes it to me.

I hold it up. “What is it?”

He grabs it from me as he pulls out a black Amex card along with another bank card that he holds up. “There’re a few questions Neville needs you to answer, but everything is set up.”

Staring at the cards, I ask. “Who’s Neville and set up for what?”

Micah stuffs the cards back in the envelope then holds it out to me. “My financial manager and to cover anything you want.”

I stare at the envelope then gawk at him. “I want to understand what you’re doing and why, Micah. I know your intentions are good, but I don’t want your money. I need my own.”

“It is yours,” he nonchalantly replies.

“So, I can spend your money as long as I follow your rule and not work.” I study his relaxed stance and calm appearance before I ask, “What are you going to do if I tell Edmund that I want my job back and defy you?”

Micah sets the envelope down before he walks over to me, his arms slowly wrap around my lower back. “If you want to work at Sweet Fleur, then I’ll drive you to work. The money doesn’t come with conditions.”

I didn’t expect him to hold it over my head, but I figured he’d be a little stubborn about getting his way at least. “So, you’d not say a word if I wanted to keep working at Sweet Fleur and babysitting?”

He gives me a soft, tender kiss. “It’s your choice. I shouldn’t have overstepped and contacted your boss. But I hope you’ll consider taking time off to focus on whatever you want. The money is yours no matter what you decide or what happens between us.”

I smile, knowing I never would but tease, “You’re not worried I’d spend all your money if I got mad and we split up?”

“No, I’m not worried. Whether we’re together or not, you still own every part of me. We can make it legal and official on paper. No conditions. No prenup. What I’m offering doesn’t come with strings. It’s yours to take and walk away with if that’s what you choose to do.”

“You can’t be serious, Micah. I understand. I trust you too. But money makes people do crazy things and so does marriage.”

His hands cup my cheeks as he states, “Not everyone has ulterior motives. I love you. It’s as simple as that.”

My eyes shut as tears threaten to fall. How can a person be so trusting? How does someone love so unconditionally? It’s not something I’ve witnessed, obviously, from my own parents. Even my mother uses guilt to leverage against me to get what she wants. “I don’t know what motivates you. You quit my job for me then offer to marry me.” A lifelong commitment that I feel every bit in my soul that I want. But there’s no way. We’re too young, right? We’ve been through so much that everything seems colossal. And it’s not even over yet. I pull away from him. “This is too much to deal with in one conversation.”

Before I reach the doorway, he calls my name. I stop and turn to see him walking up to me with the envelope as he holds it out. “Please take it. Even if you don’t use it, you’ll have it if you need something.” He pauses for a few seconds before he adds, “And you don’t owe me anything.”

“Maybe that’s what makes me uncomfortable. I could never repay you, even if I wanted to.”

“First off, it’s technically my grandpa’s money that he graciously left my brother and me, probably partly to stick it to my father. I didn’t do anything to earn it but be born a Montclair. I want to do this for you because I care about you and want you to have one less worry on your plate.”

I hesitate for a minute before reluctantly taking the manila envelope. “You shouldn’t have spoken to Edmund on my behalf. That was over the line.”

“I apologize. Truly.”

He seems sincere, but I still have to question … “Are you just telling me what I want to hear?”

“No, I won’t overstep again. Not on purpose anyway, because I was genuinely doing what I thought was best. I’m bound to screw up eventually though.”

“Me too,” I utter.