Chapter 9 #2
“Thank you,” I mumble, taking the seat. My fingers tighten around the strap of the robe, suddenly aware that I’m sitting in Knox Vale’s dining room, wearing his bathrobe, across from him.
“Would you like coffee or tea, dear?” Sheila asks with a warm smile.
“Coffee, please,” I answer, grateful for something normal.
She nods approvingly. “I’ll be right back.”
When I look at Knox, he’s staring at me over the rim of his mug.
He’s drinking black coffee. On the plate before him is a slice of half-eaten toast, scrambled eggs, and bacon.
“So, that was your assistant?” I speak, because apparently, I’m the only one willing to break the silence.
“That was her.” Knox’s mouth curves into a faint smile.
“She’s different to what I expected.”
“What did you expect?” He stares at me curiously.
“I don’t know. Someone corporate like your brothers.”
He chuckles. “No. And I can assure you that had I been one of my brothers, they wouldn’t have shown you the same courtesy I have.”
I believe him. I haven’t heard good things about his brothers—or him for that matter—but I glare at him all the same. Only he would think he showed me any sort of courtesy. “What part of this arrangement is a courtesy to me?”
“All of it.” He sips some more coffee and sets the mug down.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I told you; I’m always serious.”
“Then how could you think you did me a courtesy?” I shoot him a thin stare. “If you could sell the restaurant now, I wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t care about me or my mother.”
He gives me a wry look, part agreement, part defiance. “Be that as it may, you’re still getting a courtesy.”
And he’s stuck because of my father’s trust.
Sheila returns, saving us from another argument. In her hands is a tray covered in delicious-looking food and a cup of coffee.
She makes her way to me and unloads the coffee followed by each plate. I have the same food as Knox, but she’s given me a selection of pastries, which I appreciate. I could do with something sweet.
“Thanks so much.” I look up at her and smile.
“Let me know if you need anything more.” She nods. “I’ll be along to fetch you when you finish breakfast. I think I have some better clothes that can fit you.”
“Thanks, that would be great.”
She dips her head and leaves. This time, she closes the door.
I take a gulp of coffee before resuming my conversation with Knox. I can’t handle him when I feel like I’m running on empty.
I face him, but he points to the plate, motioning for me to eat. “We can eat and talk. You’ll need your strength.”
Need my strength? That doesn’t sound good, but I eat.
“Sheila will take care of everything you need.” He straightens against his chair. “Your stuff will be delivered by midday.”
“My paintings need to be handled with care.”
“They will.”
“I’m serious. They’re my new collection.”
He narrows his eyes. “What for?”
I almost tell him but hold back. I’m not sharing my dreams of Broadway with him. “Just a new project.”
“Whatever it is, I hope it doesn’t get in the way of wedding planning.”
Here we go. That’s the biggest next step.
“And when is the wedding?”
“Two weeks’ time.”
My fork freezes halfway to my mouth.
Two weeks.
The words hit harder than I expect, and my stomach drops. For a second, the room feels too small, the air too heavy.
I blink. “Two weeks? As in fourteen days from now?”
He nods once, calm as ever.
“That’s… soon,” I manage, though what I really mean is way too soon.
But what did I expect? Of course, the wedding would need to be soon to get the ball rolling.
“We’ll tell people we’ve been dating in secret for a year and now we want to tie the knot.”
“You think people will believe that?” Most people would be quicker to believe I’m pregnant. Though I guess these days, not many people rush to get married for pregnancy anymore.
“They’ll believe it because I keep my private life out of the media.”
“Yet there are so many pictures of you with one woman or another on your arm.” He has to be joking.
A crude smile dances across his lips. “Doing your research on me?”
“The same way you did yours on me.” I quirk a brow.
“Fair enough. But to give you an answer, have you ever seen any reports of me being in any kind of relationship?”
I think for a moment. “Not exactly.”
“Because there are none. Also, the pictures you found would have been from various fundraisers, and there’s nothing recent.”
He’s right. The last picture I found of him with a woman was from very early last year with some Victoria’s Secret model. There’s been nothing since.
Come to think of it, the dates would fit in well with his story of being with me for a year.
“See? I’m right,” he says, catching the flicker of reluctant agreement on my face.
“Why can’t we just get married in private? Does there need to be a story?”
“I wish we could, but there’s always some paparazzi snooping around.
Not even I can hide a wedding. Having a story is better.
So, with that said…” He pauses and rests his elbows on the table.
“We’ll have a number of public appearances before and after the wedding.
The one we need to worry about right now is our engagement party. ”
God, my head feels light. Like it may slip right off my body. I can’t believe we’re talking about this.
“When is that?”
“Thursday, when I get back from L.A. Sheila will fill you in on the details.” He downs the rest of his coffee.
I remember what he said about his staff last night, so I thought I should ask about Sheila. “Does she know what’s happening? I mean with our arrangement.”
“Yes. Outside of my immediate family, she’s the only one who knows. So, it’s important you only speak to her. Everyone else will be told the same story I feed the press.”
“Okay. Won’t the staff know that we haven’t been dating for a year?”
“No. You’re the first woman apart from my stepmother and sister to step inside my home.”
At first, I think he’s pulling my leg, but then I realize he’s not. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“You’ve never brought a girlfriend here?”
“Men like me don’t have girlfriends, love.”
Of course, they don’t. “Right.”
“Anyway, Sheila will have a lot for you to do this week, from paperwork to wedding dress fittings. Make sure you’re available.”
“Sure, but I have work and other things to attend to, like my mom.”
“Of course. Be there for your mother when she needs you but forget about work. You’re going to be my wife. You don’t need to work.”
I let out a nervous, shocked laugh. “What do you mean, I don’t need to work? Of course, I need to work. I have a job at the theatre.”
“That job pays peanuts for the hours you put in. It’s better if you don’t go.”
“Unlike you, Mr. Forbes, if I don’t work, I don’t get paid.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. Before I can blink, he produces a sleek black credit card. The kind that doesn’t need a logo to announce what it is. Just the glint of the chip and that cold metallic edge says enough.
My mouth falls open when he slides it toward me.
“That’s yours. It has a hundred-thousand-dollar limit. Anything above that goes through me.”
My breath catches and I stare at him, stunned. “I… I can’t take your money.”
Again, he laughs. “You’d be the first person to say that.”
“I’m serious. I’m not taking your money.”
“It’s not a request.” He taps the space near the card. “And it’s part of the contract. Don’t make me go quoting again.”
“Please don’t.” I groan.
“Great. Any questions?”
I have so many, but my thoughts are crashing around in my mind like waves in a tempest. And I’m dazed. Dazed from him giving me his credit card.
Despite that, I do have one pressing question that’s been eating me alive. “What will we do with the restaurant? I mean at the end? I figured you’d want to sell it to get your money back. I just want to know if I’m right.”
He studies me quietly, his gaze lingering long enough to make my pulse falter.
It’s unsettling, the way he looks at me, like he can see straight through the armor I’ve barely managed to hold together.
“It should be sold,” he finally answers.
“Of course. But what if I can hypothetically get your money back and pay off the loan? I know it… it doesn’t compensate the other things my father did, but I thought I’d ask.” That’s me following Mia’s advice.
The curiosity in his eyes morphs into full-blown fascination. “How in the hell are you going to get a hundred grand to pay me back? And before you even think of it, no, you can’t use the credit card for that.”
“I said hypothetically. And of course, I wouldn’t use your credit card to pay you back.” I roll my eyes at him. That’s such a crookish thing to do, but given that my father screwed him over twice, I can’t blame him for thinking I’d do something like that.
The plan is to get that job on Broadway.
If I do, I may be able to get a loan from the bank.
Emphasis on the may part. The only thing I have going for me is that I have good credit.
I never took out any loans or even credit cards.
I know in some instances, that could work against me, but maybe it won’t.
“I think this is a conversation we should have nearer the time.”
Ugh. Of course he would say that. “Could you just be human for one minute? That restaurant has been in my family for over a hundred years. My great-grandparents started it with recipes that had been in our family for generations. They worked so hard to build it, and everyone who came after them showed it the same love. Sure, it’s not a multibillion-dollar empire like Vale Global, but it has a legacy.
And it’s hard for me to know it won’t be in my family anymore. ”
For a moment, he looks at me like he’s listening, then his eyes harden, resuming that guarded look. “Let’s decide when the time comes. Quite likely, I’ll buy you out, then you start your own legacy.”
Right. In his world, it’s as simple as that.
I want to push back, but I don’t. Deciding when the time comes doesn’t give me much to hold on to, but at least we’re talking about it.
“Fine,” I mutter.
“Any other questions? Preferably about the next two weeks.”
“Is there anything else I need to do?”
The toothy smile he gives me reminds me of the predator again. “That’s a better question, love. All you need to do is be a good girl and behave.” He stands, signaling that breakfast is over.
With that cool, effortless grace, he walks around to stand behind me and rests his hands on my shoulders.
His touch is firm, possessive, sending an unwelcome shiver down my spine.
Then he leans in, his lips caressing the air near my ear.
“Don’t give my staff any trouble. Don’t give me any trouble.
Do what you want within these walls, but outside, you act like you’re mine.
You smile for the cameras, and you smile for me. ”
The deep timbre of his voice slides through me.
My pulse staggers, heat creeping up my neck in betrayal.
I hate that my body reacts before my mind does, that the sound of his voice alone can unravel me when I should have more control.
It’s unbecoming of me, but I’m not sure I can do anything about it except beware.
Beware of him.
Knox straightens. “Understand?”
“I got it.”
“Then I’ll see you in three days.” He backs away, then pauses and reaches into his pocket for his phone. “Before I forget.”
When he sets it down in front of me, I remember what he said the other night about deleting his list of women.
I raise my brows at him, part shocked he’s serious, part annoyed for the same reason. I also remember that very R-rated text he got from that woman.
“You’re seriously trusting me with your phone?” I level him with a hard stare.
“I’m a man of my word.”
“What about your other phone?” He must have another.
“No one has that number except the six members of my immediate family, Sheila, and now you.”
Again, I’m surprised. And a little thrown. I pick up the phone and hold it up. “What if I delete someone you actually like?”
“There’s no one like that, so delete away, love.”
“Okay.” I aim for cool and casual, but I can’t pretend I’m not impressed. I don’t know many men who would do this. Then again, he’s Knox Vale. If he wanted a new list of women, he could replace them all within five minutes.
With a dip of his head, he turns and leaves. I watch him until he’s gone, but his presence lingers anyway.
It lingers like a ghost, telling me I’ll feel him long after he’s gone, whether I want to or not.