Chapter 20
Vivian
That cannot be what he said. I look from Felix, whose face reflects the shock I’m feeling, to Quentin, who’s watching me carefully.
“Did I hear you right? Did you ask your son—my ex—to move in and stay here at the same time as me?” I burst out.
Quentin clenches his jaw. Then slowly nods. “I’ve allocated a self-sufficient apartment for him within the house. It’s on the opposite wing from the main part of the house and has a separate entrance.” He turns to Felix. “You’d have your independence and wouldn’t have to run into me or Vivian.”
He’d still be in the same house as me and Q though.
I shake my head. This is insane. He can’t possibly imagine the three of us could co-exist. Yes, Felix will be in an apartment in a different wing, but under the same roof?
What a disaster. What’s going on in that mind of his? What is he trying to plan here?
Of course, Felix has a right to be here.
This is his father’s home, after all. My head spins, and a tightness takes hold behind my eyes.
Why do I get the feeling I’m seeing what Quentin wants to show me?
So far, I haven't been able to look past his gorgeous face and his spectacular body, and the fact that he seems to be so taken by me. Enough to propose to me as soon as he saw me. Despite myself, I’ve been flattered by it.
And the events of the last few days have begun to reveal the man behind the facade he wears.
A man I’ve begun to like. A man I know doesn’t share what he’s thinking.
But no way could he have the notion that inviting his son to move in while I'm here is a good idea.
I'm furious. And heartbroken, and damn him, but I also feel betrayed that he put me in this position.
He must see the emotions running across my face, for he takes a step in my direction.
“Don’t—” I shake my head, then pivot on my heels and hurry out and back toward his bedroom.
I stomp inside, then into the closet. I begin to unbutton the shirt, but before I’m halfway through, he walks around to stand in front of me.
"What are you doing?"
“What does it look like? I’m getting out of the shirt I borrowed from you.”
“Leave it on. I like seeing you in my clothes,” he orders.
“So you can use this as another opportunity to rub it in your son’s face that we’re together? You can’t resist branding me as yours and flaunting our relationship in front of him, can you?”
A spasm of pain crosses his features. “This...is uncharted territory for me. You can’t blame me for wanting to shout to the world that you’re mine.
At the same time, I’m aware how much it’s hurting him, and that it might alienate him forever, and I don’t want that.
This is, likely, the last chance I have to mend fences with him. It’s why I asked him to move in.”
For a second, he looks uncertain and vulnerable, and my heart begins to soften, but I rein it in. "This"—I throw my hands up in the air—"you, me and him, in the same space?"
"Why not?"
I scowl. “Because seeing us together would make it clear to him there’s chemistry between us. And that would only show him what he’s missing.”
“Or it might make him realize we’re inevitable,” he points out.
“While putting me in an embarrassing situation. How do you think it'll feel for me to see the guy who dumped me at the altar in the hallway as I'm going to the loo?"
I finish unbuttoning the shirt and when the plackets gape, his gaze is drawn to my exposed breasts. His eyes widen. His nostrils flare. And when I look at the crotch of his pants, the telltale bulge there gives him away. A surge of power courses through my veins.
This attraction between us is real. It’s why he brought me here. It’s why I came willingly. I wasn’t thinking too far out into the future last night, not beyond the possibility of a marriage to him… Or the prospect of not marrying him when my month of consideration is up.
But the run-in with Felix has shown me a glimpse of the future. This awkwardness between the three of us is going to taint our relationship, no matter how much time passes.
“Q?” I prompt him. “Did you hear what I said?”
He blinks, then seems to wrench his gaze away from my body and to my face.
“I hear you.” He draws in a breath, then runs his hand over his head.
“I understand how uncomfortable this situation is for you. It is for me, too.” He chooses his words carefully.
“The last thing I want is my son under my roof while I attempt to start this new phase of my life with you. The last thing I want is for you to be reminded of how much Felix hurt you. But I’m also aware of how pissed-off he is about this situation, and rightly so.
I’m afraid that in asking you to marry me, I may have alienated my son forever.
He’s the only immediate family I have, and if I don’t do something I’ll lose him.
And I... I can’t let that happen. But also, I want... No, I need you in my life.”
I’m sure he’ll take my hand, but he seems to respect my need for space. Instead, his gaze bores into mine.
"I need both of you in my life.”
His blue eyes turn almost indigo with emotion. Tension radiates off of him.
“Timing is everything, and if I don’t do something to show Felix I’m committed to resolving our conflict, I will have lost my son. I couldn’t live with that.”
Neither could I.
He must sense me thawing, for he takes a step forward. Not enough to touch me, but enough for the heat of his body to envelop me. Enough for that spicy scent of his to deepen. And damn, but my entire body lights up. I should move away, but it feels so good to be near him.
“I need you with me, under my roof, Raven.” He locks his gaze with mine. “You mean so much to me. But so does Felix. And the only way I can continue to have some kind of relationship with him is by having him under my roof for a short period of time.”
His voice is so gentle, his tone so tender, the worry in his eyes is so real, my stupid heart melts completely.
“It’s only for a little while; just until Felix and I arrive at some kind of understanding,” he coaxes.
Oh, my god, am I really going to do this? Am I going to agree to live under the same roof as Felix?
Quentin could have used that bossy voice of his, and I’d have given in earlier, but he didn’t.
And he hasn’t leveraged the chemistry between us to seduce me into agreeing, either.
Maybe that's why I pull my hand from his and shake a finger under his nose.
“Fine then. But keep him away from me. Can you do that? "
The tension drains from his shoulders. The fine lines around his beautiful mouth smooth out, and dang it, but a flush of satisfaction warms me. Ugh, I care for this man more than I realized. And I do want to see him happy. When did I begin to develop feelings for him?
"I’ll do my best to make sure the two of you don’t run into each other; you have my word.” His voice rings with conviction.
I nod. It’s not the same as not having Felix living in this house, but it’s the best I can hope for, under the circumstances. I suppose. I shrug out of his shirt, then walk over to the laundry basket and pull out the blouse I was wearing yesterday.
“You can keep the shirt,” he offers.
"I’m not sure I can accept it."
"You’re going to be my wife."
I stay silent. In my mind, I know it’s inevitable. Saying anything contradictory seems pointless. But my hesitation must come through because when I turn, it’s to find he’s watching me with a look of speculation on his face.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“Oh, you do, huh?”
He ignores the sarcasm in my voice. “You’re thinking that entertaining the idea of this proposal was stupid.”
My gaze widens.
“And moving in with me was a mistake. And you’re regretting that you’re so attracted to me, that it’s making it difficult for you think marrying me is a mistake.”
Shock has me immobile. Am I that easy to read? Or is it that he’s able to understand my misgivings without my spelling them out?
He must read the surprise on my features, for he nods. He pulls out his phone and his fingers fly over the screen.
What’s he up to?
He looks up at me, a look of confidence on his face.
The hair on the nape of my neck rises. Before I can ask him anything else, a buzzing sound reaches me.
What the—? Did he text me? With a last look at him, I head out of the closet and toward the bedside table where I placed my phone. I snatch it up.
It's not a text. A notification from my bank’s app fills the top of the screen. I tap on it, and it enlarges. The figure in my account takes my breath away. So many zeroes, more than I’ve ever seen on paper, or on a screen, and definitely not in my account. Shock holds me immobile.
I turn to him. "You did this?" I hold up my phone.
He nods without bothering to look at the screen. "Now you can pay in full for your sister’s ballet course and get your father the best medical help in the world."
I swallow.
"You can also arrange to move him to a better facility with higher quality care. With better attention and medication, there’s no reason he won’t live a healthy life into a ripe old age."
“Wait, what? You transferred the money to my account.”
He nods.
“But how did you get the details? I never shared them with you.”
He continues to glare at me, and a slow anger builds in my belly. “Of course, your private investigator got them for you. I’d have thought banks have to respect confidentiality, but clearly, anyone can be bought. Including me.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t cheapen what we have. It’s not like that between us.”
A heaviness knocks at the backs of my eyes.
At the same time, I feel like I can breathe.
So strange. Until this moment, I hadn’t realized how stressed I’ve been about my father and my sister.
Seeing the bottom line in my account makes our agreement a cold, hard reality.
It’s a reminder of how much I need this money.
“This... this makes it very real.” I swallow.