Chapter 23
?
Was this…a proposal?
August
Blond.
Very blond.
I cannot tell whether it’s dyed or a wig. If it’s a wig, it’s really excellent craftsmanship, which I suppose would make a world of sense, considering Dominic…Alister is a millionaire, and all that.
“Look me in the eye, little saint,” he whispers, all allure, and I remember that I am presently being accosted.
Arms pinned above my head, I fix my attention on…Ali. His heated blue eyes simmer above his toying smile, and I find my heart beating at an impossible rate when I gulp.
Tightening his grip on my crossed wrists, he draws a free knuckle up my throat until it rests at the tip of my chin. “What’s come over you? You’re not usually this…pliable.”
I’m not usually contemplating what exactly it means to consolidate my attraction to this man with the emotional connection I’ve fostered for Ali all these years.
I thought he was a girl. I’ve talked with him under that speculation.
This past month when my period rolled around, with him inside my house, I messaged him, Menstruation, amirite?
And he??
He replied, Preach.
Like.
Dude.
What?
I saw the unshakable proof in Beth’s home. He is Alister Dominic Montgomery. There’s no two ways about that. I am being wooed by my boss, a millionaire, a man whose grandmother has book club with my grandmother. Annnd it all just makes perfect sense now, doesn’t it?
How he knows me.
Why everyone’s jumped on board the crazy train.
All of it.
The only thing I can’t quite figure out is…what in the world I’ve done these past three years that have made him fall this hard. Most of our email conversations went as follows:
Me: I do not want to work, you slave driver.
Him: I don’t care. *cracks whip*
Me: But, please, do consider…this anime.
Him: I have considered it. You can watch it when you’re dead.
Where in all my nonsense did he see wife material?
“August?” he murmurs.
I startle. “Hm? Yes? I’m here. Promise.”
Tenderness settles in his gaze, and he dips to kiss my throat, which…
does things to every part of me. My boss is licking my pulse right now, nibbling, and making egregiously attractive noises.
My boss is a boy. And he’s… Gracious. He’s either dyed his hair or committed to wearing a wig because at some point in this insanity, he learned I was into blonds.
And that’s all it took.
He said, “Okay, well then. Let’s make that happen,” and bleached his eyebrows.
A pitiful sound leaves me, and I shiver.
He stops tormenting. “August…you’re worrying me a little bit.”
“Why?” I whisper.
“I’m not certain how to put this…”
I peer at him, pliant, eyes probably dewy and wanting.
“Your body language is suggesting you’d like me to ravish you.”
Whaaat?
A tiny breath leaves me, and I drag my attention off him. “What a totally weird thing for you to say to me.”
“Yes,” he states. “It’s out of character for someone so insistent on our participation in a slow-burn romance to be behaving like this.” He doesn’t let that stop him from nipping at my ear and whispering, “Why, I bet you’d do anything for me right now, wouldn’t you?”
My heart is not going to be able to take this for much longer.
He’s funny and chaotic and committed. He likes anime. He came all this way for me, dropping everything. He’s calculating and precise and…
Wow.
I…can’t believe this.
He’s nuts, isn’t he? Completely nuts. Just like me.
He—Ali, Dominic, all of him—has always met me right where I’m at, matching my energy, vibing with my crazy.
For three entire years, he’s responded to my emails promptly.
He’s taken everything I’ve ever said to heart.
He’s watched every anime I’ve ever recommended.
And, presently, he’s playing by my script while he works his way through reading every book I’ve ever written—so he can know me better, so he can find the more perfect picture of me.
With all of that context in my brain, I think falling is an understatement.
Three years isn’t a long time, but it’s certainly not no time at all. He’s managed to—through brief messages alone—remain compelling in my brain. I’m excited every time I talk to him. Every time in the past three years that I’ve opened my work account, I’ve hoped for a message or an email from him.
I don’t know what to do with that.
I don’t know where I’d like to take this story now.
I just know that I’m not quite ready to see what might happen if I share the secrets I’ve discovered.
I’m not quite ready to risk hitting happily ever after just in case that peaceful notion mellows what we’re building, and I lose this spark.
But…
But is that fair to him?
Is dragging him along on my whim when I know I’ve fallen for him fair?
“Are you happy?” I ask, breathless and soft.
“Happy?” He pauses torturing me to pull back. His brows lower. “What do you mean?”
“Are you happy playing these stupid games with me? Is it annoying? Am I irritating? Or…even cruel…for asking you to go this far for me when I’ve hardly done anything for you in return?”
His grip around my wrists loosens, and then his fingers slip down every last inch of my arm until he’s cupping my cheek.
“These games aren’t stupid, first of all.
You’re neither annoying nor irritating. And if you’re even a little bit cruel…
” His lips meet my chin, trace up my jaw, to my ear once more. “…I’m confident I like it.”
“So it is cruel to ask so much of someone with no promise that anything will come from it…”
“I wouldn’t say that. I’m confident you’d marry me in a matter of days if I got serious.”
At that, my heart jumps. “Really?”
He chuckles. “See? You’re overeager at the suggestion alone.
This is hardly a situation that I believe nothing will come from.
It’s too late for you, little saint.” His head shakes.
“No. It’s too late for you, my author. I am the ink in your pen, birthed straight from your veins.
We are entwined. Inevitable. There is no future beyond the stories we are to write together.
” Lifting my hand, he kisses my knuckles.
“Shall I marry you now, my darling love? Would that bring peace to your tormented soul?”
If he really has a way to marry me in a matter of days…then…that might be a wonderful way to take us to a happily ever after that starts a new story.
Already, the pictures of the potential spin through my brain.
Coerced into marriage within a matter of days.
An embittered wife offered against her will.
An obsessive, arrogant husband determined to make her heart his.
I like that. A lot. It suggests historical romance.
I could purchase petticoats. I’ve always wanted an excuse to wear a corset.
And I can just imagine what Alister might do to get in character.
Ruffled tunics. Tailcoats. Slacks. A top hat, if I could be so lucky.
Oh my goodness.
Gloves.
We could both wear gloves, and he could seductively pull his off with his teeth before touching me for the very first time—skin to skin.
He murmurs, “Am I to take the dreamy look in your eye as a yes?”
I snap back to the moment, open my mouth, and say, “Can you really do it? You’ve figured out how to force me into marrying you?”
“Perhaps if you consent to whatever fate I deem appropriate for you, you’ll find out.”
My breath catches. What a dangerous thing to toy with. If he’s truly got a plan to marry me, I don’t know whether or not it will involve my awareness. He’s rich, after all. I’m certain there’s a great number of things a rich man can do to subvert usual legal processes.
Oh no. I just remembered.
I still have a quarter of my vampire book left to write.
I can’t start my brain off on a historical romance before that’s done. December would kill me if I don’t finish my vampire story now.
And, yet, it is the beginning of August.
I want to be married in August. Am I going to slow-burn this out for another year? I’ll be well and truly past the vampire story by then. What other stories could happen in between? And will any of them compare to this new idea while it’s stuck in my brain and all I want to do is write it?
My mouth opens. “I want a wedding.”
He chuckles. “Easy.”
Easy?
Easy?
“Easy?” I blurt. “Weddings take months to plan. You’re telling me that you can marry me and give me a wedding in a matter of days?”
“Yes.” He kisses my hand again, holding my gaze in an impenetrable grip. “Easily.”
I find this hard to believe, but I suppose when you’ve lived the life I have—where one little splurge on a casket results in the emptying of my entire savings—many things seem impossible. Breathless, I say, “Okay. Okay fine. Marry me, if you can.”
The darkest smile I’ve ever seen pours over his face. Covering my lips with his thumb, he leans in and kisses the nail. “I need one week.”
“One week is still in August, so that’s fine.”
“Excellent.” He swipes his thumb over my lips as he pulls away. “Until then, beloved.” He heads toward the door.
I straighten. “What do you mean until then?”
Tucking his hands in his pockets, he walks backward, smile calm, cool, and confident. “I have a wedding to put together, so I’ll be busy for the next few days. Try and miss me in the meantime.”
Miss him? “You’re…leaving? You won’t be back tonight?”
“I’ll only be by to pick up a few of my things, but after that, my darling author, you shall have to suffer without me for a time. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and I’d like your heart to be quite fond of me once we see one another again. At the altar.”
I don’t…understand. There are rules and regulations involved in getting married. We need to apply for a marriage license. This isn’t how reality…
Stilling, I watch him turn and open my front door, then I press my hand to my racing heart as he disappears beyond it.
This isn’t how reality works.
Which means…it’s exactly what I want.
I have a feeling these next few days are going to be torture, yet I’m looking forward to every minute.