4. Mira #2
The sharp look I gave her did the trick, snapping her mouth shut before she could go any further with employees moving around. We didn’t need a bunch of gossip and speculation until the agreement was finalized.
Dammit. What did he think he was doing, stalking me? How would he know to find me here?
The last question was a stupid one. He could easily have called in and gotten that information from Papa. Had he come out here to offer the good news that he’d agreed to be my husband?
I would never learn the answer if I stood around with a half-folded napkin in my hands. “Whatever it is, it must be important,” I decided. Was I trying to convince Janine or myself?
“You can use my office,” she offered.
I had a better idea. “No way. I’m in my groove here. Would you mind if I saw him here instead? I won’t be long.” It wouldn’t take long to shut him down and tell him to get his head examined if he thought this was acceptable.
I was simmering by the time Janine asked for Clay to be shown to the ballroom and seething by the time his tall, broad frame breached the threshold.
Larger than life. How many times had I heard that expression used when describing my father?
That was his personality— boisterous, generous, always the biggest in the room.
It was Clayton Manning’s athletic body and impossibly broad shoulders that brought the same to mind as he crossed the room with an elegance that couldn’t be taught or purchased.
It had to be born in a person. The way he moved through space, as he owned it like the air around him was being done a favor by touching his sharp jaw.
I hated him for it.
And for so much more.
Janine’s soft gasp was followed by her tight whisper. “Oh my God.” Otherwise, it didn’t seem like she was breathing as Clay approached, finally coming to a stop in front of us.
“Clayton Manning.” He removed his aviators, which until now he had been wearing indoors like the cheesy dork he was, then shook her hand. “And who might you be?”
Because it seemed like Janine had swallowed her tongue or somehow forgotten how to speak, I answered for her. “This is Janine Vasquez, the general manager of this property. She is worth her weight in gold.”
“Now that’s a glowing endorsement.” He only had eyes for her, and I could feel her practically melting under his gaze. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Janine.”
“The pleasure is mine,” she murmured.
He hadn’t blinked, too busy studying her face, his eyes warming as his smile widened. He knew how to charm women, but the ability to get a girl pregnant just by looking at her a certain way didn’t translate to him being some hospitality genius.
Finally, he turned his attention toward me. “Miss Rinaldi, excuse the intrusion, but there was some business I wanted to discuss with you before I took it any further. Can we have a few minutes?”
“Please, don’t let me get in your way.” Janine picked up the tub of knives. “I can polish these someplace else.”
I almost wished she wouldn’t. This marked the first time the two of us would be alone. Considering he took up most of the air in the room, not even a ballroom built for three hundred guests was big enough.
I was a big girl, though, and he was the one butting in where he wasn’t invited. I held that truth close to my heart as I waited for Janine to lead a few staff members into the hall.
He checked over his shoulder, watching Janine retreat. “Do these people know? Have they heard what’s going on?” Funny how the charming lilt in his voice had gone flat. Apparently, I didn’t deserve his best effort.
“Janine mentioned whispering with upper management, but that’s as far as it’s gone.
” I inserted another menu into another napkin before starting on the next one.
There was something satisfying about creating sharp creases at a moment like this when control felt completely out of my grasp.
“So? What did you decide? Is this your way of giving me the courtesy of letting me know first?”
Opening his suit jacket, he slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks.
They fit him beautifully, tailored to accommodate his thick thighs.
“It doesn’t have to be this way, you realize.
” Dimples appeared on his cheeks when he grinned briefly.
“We don’t have to consider ourselves on opposite sides of this. ”
What was his angle? His friendliness lifted the fine hairs on the back of my neck.
He was trying too hard. What was the point?
“Why don’t you explain what you mean instead of throwing cryptic language at me?
” I suggested, using the flat edge of a knife to create those sharp creases I was looking for.
He snorted, watching me work. “Do you always do napkin origami when you visit your properties?”
“Sure. Can I make something for you? A swan, maybe?”
“Are you always this argumentative?”
Fuck this. I rolled my eyes once aggressive politeness was too much to maintain. “Are you going to keep asking questions, or are you going to tell me why you’re here? Let’s not pretend it was a coincidence you happened to be in Santa Barbara at the same time I am.”
“Who’s pretending? I didn’t give you an excuse.” He admired the crystal stemware covering one of the tables, waiting to be distributed to each place setting. “I wanted to have a real talk with you before I give your father my final decision.”
Was I supposed to thank him? “Wow, imagine that. Somebody talking things over with me beforehand.”
“Hey, don’t get on my case. I was just as surprised as you were yesterday.” With a smirk that threatened to curl my toes, he added, “I could just as easily accuse you of being a gold digger. Using the family brand as leverage to convince a billionaire to marry you.”
Fucker. He wanted a reaction? He was going to get one. I threw a napkin back onto the pile, glaring at him. “And if you’ve done half the due diligence a man with your resources is capable of, you would know I don’t need a cent of your money. I’m not interested.”
“That’s the thing about money. There’s no such thing as enough.”
“Hang on. Let me find a pen to write down these pearls of wisdom.” Folding my arms, I said, “Let’s stop wasting time. Are you taking the offer?”
“I have decided to, yes.”
Shocker. “Terrific. I’m sure you and my father will be very happy on our wedding day.”
“I came all the way out here to talk a few things over with you, so we’re on the same page. Are you going to listen to me, or are you going to keep offering the same childish comments?”
I took a seat on a nearby chair. “Go ahead. Say what you came to say.”
If only he wasn’t so impossibly hot when he grinned.
Like he knew he was doing something he shouldn’t.
Almost daring the people around him to tell him to stop, knowing they wouldn’t.
I wondered how much he had gotten away with based on that smile alone.
“Like I said before you interrupted me, we can work together. I don’t expect you to be my silent, accommodating wife.
I say this respectfully. Your father might be stuck in a different time. I’m not.”
Interesting, but not enough to win me over. “Yet you’re accepting the offer.”
Lifting a shoulder, he replied, “Business is business.”
“You’re splitting hairs.”
“I’m realistic,” he countered, making me groan.
“I think you are, too, which is why you haven’t ordered me thrown off the property.
You are a realist like me. You know, in the end, this is the only arrangement that’s going to work for both of us.
I get my new properties… you get to stay in control. ”
“Damn right, I do.” I had always intended that, but it was nice to hear him say it out loud. One less thing to fight over. “You’re taking what I’ve worked for, and I’m not going to let you forget that.”
“No shit,” he replied with a soft laugh. “I guessed that. I don’t hold it against you. I can’t imagine what this must be like. You’ve worked your ass off, the same as I have, so why can’t we both benefit?”
“How would we do that?” As much as I didn’t feel like listening to a word coming out of his mouth, he had me intrigued.
“Just because we’re married doesn’t mean we have to live like a married couple.”
“Papa will expect us to live together.” My molars ground together at the thought. “It’s a big sticking point. He wants me out of my apartment, living with you.” It didn’t get any easier to accept when I said it out loud.
“Sharing a house isn’t the same as living as husband and wife.” How could he shrug it off so casually, like marriage meant nothing? Was there a heart anywhere in that broad chest of his?
“You’re saying we’d be roommates?”
“More or less. We can work out the details. I need you to understand I don’t expect more than that.
" With the closest thing to a friendly smile he’d offered so far, he added, “I know this isn’t what every girl dreams of when she grows up.
Having a husband chosen for her and all that. It doesn’t have to be painful.”
“You don’t know what I’ve dreamed of,” I reminded him. Where the hell did he get off painting some lame-ass cliché?
And how the hell did he know? Because no, this was not what I had dreamed in the secret corners of my heart.
Sold in marriage, exchanging vows with a stranger.
How sad, pitiful, and empty it all seemed when compared to the fantasies of love and romance I had held onto way longer than I should have.
I knew better than to think Prince Charming would come along, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t hope he was out there somewhere.
“Fair enough.” His sensuous mouth twitched, drawing my attention again.
It wasn’t fair for him to be so gorgeous.
“I’m doing my best to be a nice guy, which is not something I’ve prioritized in the past. The least you can do is meet me halfway because here’s the bottom line.
This is happening. You can make it easier by playing along, or you can dig in your heels, stick out your chin, and hold your breath until you get your way. You’ll be wasting your time.”
If anything, I appreciated his bluntness more than his attempts at being friendly.
We weren’t friends. I had no interest in getting to know him because I already knew everything that mattered.
“I have no intention of digging in my heels or holding my breath. I’m too busy working.
I hope you can keep up with me,” I added with a smirk.
He didn’t bother hiding his triumphant smile as he drew closer. “It now occurs to me that we never officially met.” He stuck out his hand. “Clayton Manning.”
I stood taller and reluctantly accepted the gesture.
It felt like making a deal with the devil, touching my hand to his, letting it engulf mine.
The tiniest sizzle traveled up my arm. Did he feel it too?
It didn’t seem that way, his eyes never leaving my face.
“Mirabella Rinaldi,” I murmured, pulling my hand free. “Your soon-to-be wife.”
Dimples flickered in his cheeks as he pulled out his phone. “Let’s get the ball rolling. I know your father will be happy to get this call.”
Why did I get the sense I was making a deal with the devil as I watched him dial Papa’s number?
He was all polite and respectful once my father’s familiar voice floated faintly through the speaker .
“Mr. Rinaldi? This is Clayton Manning.” Our eyes met before he gave me a slow, sexy smile. “I’m calling to accept your offer.”