6. Nadia
6
NADIA
“How much did you say it is?” Rochelle asks me for the third time.
Repeating myself doesn’t make it any less. “Almost twelve grand. A month.” Waving the paper in my hand, I wish for myself that I could blow off a zero or two.
“That’s so crazy! I had no idea property taxes in Vegas were that high. And, you’re stuck with it.” Her voice has that high pitch she saves for stressful situations. Usually I only hear it at the fashion shows when it’s our products walking the line.
“My only option would be to let it go in default. Except—” I take a deep breath. “—I already signed the acceptance paperwork before I realized. I’m liable.” Tears threaten to spill over for the third time since getting the statement this morning from the city.
I’m so screwed.
Our clothing line has tapped both of our resources. We’ve invested every penny of liquid assets we own into promotion.
She’s quiet a long time. “Well, I’m sure something will come up? Are you still going to be at the shop later?”
At least her tone has dropped back down into a less abrasive range.
“I’ve had two lawyers look into it. They both say there isn’t much I can do except open a case before a judge. But, that could take months or even years because of back-log.” I absolutely hate my father for putting me into this situation. I should have just hung up the phone when Garland reached out after my dad died.
“Well, I gotta get back on the sewing machine. I’ll see you in a bit? Donuts from Maple’s?”
Her sweet tooth will be the death of her.
But, she’s hard to say “no” to.
“Sure. I’ll be there soon.” The tax paper is crumpled from me carrying it around, so I let it drift back to my desk.
If there was some way out of this, I’d sign it over to that Roman character for free if I knew how.
That man. His stare was unnerving. And, the things he said made me so angry, but so…something else. I’m not sure if I liked it or not.
It was hard not to think about him before I went to bed. His dark eyes and what they’d look like watching me from above.
Like one of the men in my books. Dominant. Powerful. And perhaps a little scary?
What commands would he give that I would relent and follow?
No. Shaking my head, I try to shove that asshole from my thoughts.
I have to work twice as hard now, and hope that when I can finally sell the club, I do more than break even.
Okay, keys, phone, designs, fabric sample bag, water bottle. I think I have everything.
But, as I step out of my door, I nearly drop it all on the porch.
He’s here.
My jaw sets itself as I scowl at him.
He’s leaning against his car, all perfect looking smoking a cigarette. Like he’s supposed to be there.
Whatever. I don’t have the time or the patience for him.
Trying to ignore him, I’m painfully aware of him pushing away from the side of his Maserati and stamping out his smoke before he ambles closer. He slides a folder from under his elbow and steps into my space, blocking me from getting into my own vehicle.
The paper smacks softly as it lands on the roof of my Audi, yet he still hasn’t said a word.
Arching my chin, I try to give the best impatient expression I can muster. “You’re in my way.”
Is he really leaning against my car like he owns it?
“I had a lawyer look into it. I have a new proposal that could solve both of our problems.”
He gestures at the stapled document in front of me.
When I glance down at the large letters across the top, the heading makes my stomach roll.
“Marriage? How the hell does that fix anything?” Why would I ever put myself through that misery again?
“Simple. We tie the knot. Then after a couple of months, you add my name to the deed, like a married couple would. And, six months later, we divorce. I take the club, you take the cash.”
He has a smug smile teasing his lips.
It almost makes him look handsome. If he wasn’t such an ass.
I hate this. But, it’s the first glimmer of escape I’ve seen. “How much?”
His hands dive into the pockets of his designer pants and he rocks back on his heels. “My original offer stands.”
“I want half up front.” I need to get out of the burden of this debt.
One of his dark-suited arms snakes out to pin the papers and his lips whisper close to my ear. “So you’ll marry me?”
Jerking my head away, all I can see is his mouth, inches from mine. “It’s a paper marriage, don’t get excited.”
His body moves to mirror mine, but he doesn’t touch me. “I don’t think I’m the one that will have a problem controlling myself.”
Roman drops to one knee, and holds his hand up expectantly. “I suppose I should do this the right way.”
My cheeks burn and I frantically look around to see if anyone is watching. “Get up, you’re embarrassing us both.”
He chuckles, and stands slowly before patting the dirt from his pants. Opening my car, he takes my hand and leads me into the driver’s side.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, wife.” He pulls the seat belt down across my chest and snaps it into the buckle. The heat of his breath burns my throat as he pauses with his eyes level to mine.
“Drive safe.”
A vacuum sucks all the air from the car as he pulls away and shuts my door.
Holy shit. What was that?
Why is my stomach twisting into a knot?
What am I thinking? Marrying a man with his reputation is the wrong plan.
But, there’s a piece of me that is curious what other tattoos cover his body.
Rochelle is going to freak out when I tell her.