17. Clay
CLAY
“T here anything else on the agenda?” As I spoke, I typed up a quick reply to an email from my people in Lake Tahoe, where plans for renovation were going through the final approval phases.
They were a top-notch group of people over there.
Mira had done well, retaining talent the way she had.
Still, they were a little wide-eyed over the speed at which we were moving.
My assistant made a slightly choked sound that pulled my attention away from my screen. I caught her eyeing the small bag sitting on the corner of my desk. She’d brought it to me after the jeweler delivered it and was dying to know what was inside.
The contents of that bag and the box inside represented risk. I didn’t like risk. It was why I so rarely made decisions without weighing every aspect beforehand, hence the hours I’d spent deliberating on which ring to buy.
“If that’s all, you should head out for the night.” I waited for her gaze to swing my way, then added, “See you in the morning.” She tried to hide her disappointment as she stood and returned to her desk outside my office.
Finally. I would’ve thrown her out if she made me wait much longer to pull out the box and examine the ring. Most women would love the generous cushion cut solitaire set in platinum. But would Mira? Would she accept it?
Satisfied, I slid the box into my jacket pocket. The mental weight of it was overwhelming. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to wait until Friday night when I planned to give it to her during the gala taking place at my newest hotel in West Hollywood. This was who she had turned me into—a nervous groom.
There was one final reminder for my assistant to offer. “Don’t forget your appointment tonight.” She grinned, then headed out to her desk.
I checked my calendar. As far as I knew, there weren’t any meetings planned.
Yet, as if by magic, there was an appointment scheduled for seven.
Dinner at home . Mira must have gotten into my calendar to add the entry.
Warmth flooded my chest as I closed the computer, now in a hurry to make my appointment.
It had been a while since we were able to sit down for a meal.
Among the many good things that came out of our so-called honeymoon was the time we’ve been forced to spend together.
Breakfast, dinners, it had been important to play the part of the happy couple.
Now, without that excuse and Mira checking in twice a day with her father, it was increasingly rare to do more than collapse into bed together at the end of the day.
So this was what it meant to look forward to getting home, knowing there was somebody there who wanted to see me. It was so simple, yet I wondered how I had lived without it for so long.
No wonder I spent so much damn time in the office, at my properties. There was nothing else for me to do.
Tonight, I walked into my house and was instantly greeted by the enticing aroma of garlic and onion, but it was the humming coming from the kitchen that stirred a smile. I followed the sound, losing my tie while the box in my jacket pocket tapped against my thigh with every step.
“Good evening, Mr. Manning.” Mira grinned my way from the stove, then went back to the greens she was sauteing. “I see you found my calendar entry. Everything is almost ready.”
Just then, I didn’t care much about the food.
Not when she looked good enough to eat. There was nothing special about what she wore.
I’d probably seen the dress she was wearing before, only now she was barefoot with her lustrous, chocolate-brown hair clipped loosely at the back of her neck.
She was in her element, handling multiple burners, testing a bubbling tomato sauce, then adding a pinch of salt.
“What can I do?” I asked, rolling up my sleeves once I slid out of my jacket and draped it over the back of a chair.
“Get out of my kitchen. That’s what you can do,“ she teased. “Really, everything is under control.”
I approached her from behind and placed my hands on her hips. “I could open a bottle of wine. I’m pretty handy with a corkscrew.”
“By all means… though I don’t think I’ll have any tonight,” she added. “I have a few things to do after dinner and want to stay clear-headed.”
“I was thinking there were a few things we could do after dinner as well.” All it took was touching her, catching a whiff of her hair. Dinner could wait as far as I was concerned.
“Then I definitely don’t want to drink since it dulls my senses.” She snorted. “Makes it harder to come.”
“That just means I have to work harder,” I growled out. Her soft giggles at the touch of my lips to her neck were an aphrodisiac. They made my fingers dig into her flesh while I twitched against her ass.
“If I don’t eat something, I’m going to drop.” She twisted her head around, brushing her lips against mine before adding, “Wash up.”
“Yes, ma’am. You know I get all excited when you put your stern voice on.” That was surprisingly close to the truth.
While opening the wine, I asked, “How was your father today?” Because there was no sense in asking whether she had gone to the hospital. Nothing would’ve stopped her.
“Good. Better every day.” She pulled a pan of pasta shells from the oven, making my mouth water at the sight. When was the last time I had a home-cooked meal? Pulling something together using the food left in the refrigerator wasn’t the same thing.
She glanced my way, continuing, “You know, it’s funny. I meant to tell you last week, but it totally slipped my mind. It turns out he and my mother only got married because she wanted to go to America with him. Did you know that?”
“How could I have?” It surprised me, but not entirely. Stranger things happened. “How did you get on the topic?”
“He wanted to know how we were doing.” There was something she wasn’t telling me. Her voice was too bright. She was talking too fast. “And he wanted me to know that they were very much in love by the time I came along.”
What was the old man playing at? Trying to turn us into a love match? His methods weren’t exactly difficult to see through. “I’m glad it worked out for them,” I offered as I took a seat once I poured myself a glass of wine. She brought the shells, garlicky spinach, and extra sauce to the table.
“It made me see everything differently, you know? All of the notions I had about my parents flew out the window.” She plated food for herself, settling back in the chair across from mine at the small table. “He also said he wished they hadn’t waited so long to try for a family…”
Was that what was getting to her? Thinking about her dead mother, thanks to his little trips down memory lane?
My attitude softened, but only toward Mira.
Allesandro? He was a different story. “It wasn’t your fault,” I reminded her as gently as I could.
“You know that, right? It was terrible, but terrible things happen.”
“Oh, I know. That’s not… I mean, it isn’t…” She waved her hands, shaking her head. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”
I was starting to see the light, and what I saw didn’t thrill me.
It wasn’t enough for Alessandro to pressure her into marriage.
He had to pressure her into giving him grandchildren now.
Not that I was surprised. I figured it would happen.
I was hoping we could have more than a month together before it did.
“I know how far you’ve gone to make him happy,” I pointed out while cutting into the cheese-stuffed cannelloni. “You have gone above and beyond as a daughter. I hope you don’t feel pressured to devote even more of yourself to what he wants from you.”
Misfire . Her brows drew together before I could find a way to soften my mistake. “Who said I feel pressured? I was only telling you what we talked about. I’m just making conversation.”
“I used the wrong words,” I admitted. Apologizing wasn’t one of my strong points.
“No, it came off the way you meant it.” She lifted a shoulder and lifted her glass of water. “I understand. I just don’t want you to think he’s being controlling.”
Was I supposed to feel otherwise? It was one thing for him to decide who his daughter was going to marry since it meant I was gaining control of his business, as well.
When I signed that marriage license, though, it didn’t mean I was signing my life away.
Things were going well between us, and business was booming, of course.
Wasn’t that enough? No, now he would put it in her head that she needed to give him grandchildren.
And she would never stop trying to please him. I saw it. Why couldn’t she?
It was a good idea for us to change the subject.
I settled for complimenting her on the meal, which was truly delicious.
“I don’t know how I went this long without having someone to come home to,” I concluded, and I meant every word.
So long as we were left to ourselves, things were good.
Better than good. If only it were possible to shut out the world the way we had back in Tahoe when nothing mattered but us.
I would have settled for another day like the one we spent in bed here at the house.
That was already almost two weeks ago, and I had spent the time since then wishing we could do it again.
That was on my mind as I helped her clean up. “You should let me do this,” I offered. “The person who made the meal shouldn’t be the one cleaning up after it.”
“Listen to you. So domestic.” She might have laughed, but there was an emptiness to it. I had struck a nerve, criticizing her father. So this was what it meant to juggle in-law drama.
“Hey.” I approached her from behind again, like I had when she was cooking. She didn’t flinch at my touch or push me away, so I moved in closer until our bodies were flush while she rinsed a plate at the sink. “What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing, really.”