Chapter Seven #2
Wren’s older than me, and she’s always come across as confident and capable.
I love that about her. I adore her fearlessness and self-assurance.
I admire her insistence that she wants to bring up a child on her own.
I loved the thought of her standing by my side as a partner.
Of her being my equal. Of going to bed with her and having amazing sex.
But now, she blinks a few times, looking bashful and vulnerable, like a medieval virgin married off to the lord of the manor. She needs a little care. Some time and attention spent on her.
And that makes me melt.
I want to take my time with her. Show her how wrong those men were.
I tilt my head to the side to make sure I capture her gaze. “Wouldn’t you like to go to bed with a man whose focus was on you, not on whether you perform well enough for him? A man who takes his time?”
She looks into my eyes. “Are you for real?” she whispers.
I hold out a hand. “Want to touch me and make sure for yourself?”
Looking at my hand, like a deer in the forest, she slowly reaches out. I take her hand in mine, lift it, and kiss her fingertips.
She lets me, but then withdraws her hand and tucks both of hers beneath her. Her shoulders hunch. The wariness is back. But for a brief moment, I saw behind it, and I know how much she wants—no, needs—this.
“So,” I say, “is the answer yes?”
Looking away, she studies the waves for a while. The breeze blows her hair across her face, and she tucks it behind her ear absently. Then her gaze comes back to me.
She nods. “But the rest of my requirements still stand. I’d like the freedom to live my own life. And my own bedroom.”
My feelings swell and dip like a kite on the sea breeze.
She said yes! But she’s still not going to give herself completely.
It makes me sad, but it’s the best I’m going to get.
Wren doesn’t have the capacity to understand what I’m offering, or to believe it could be true.
She’s not going to rely on faith. I need to give her evidence, and show her how serious I am.
If this were a normal situation, I could take her out on dates and win her slowly.
I’ll try, but I have a feeling she’s going to refuse.
She doesn’t want romance or a relationship.
She approached Caesar because she felt it was a way to keep her heart safe.
She’s not going to give it to me because I ask for it.
I’m going to have to win it from her with deeds and actions.
“Thank you,” I say softly. “And I accept those terms, for now.”
She gives me a wary look. “Don’t start thinking you’re going to be able to make me fall for you, because that’s not going to happen.”
“I told you, I’m not going to make you do anything.” I take out my phone and bring up the app I downloaded earlier. “Okay, I have a couple of questions for you. Bear with me. They’re intimate, but it’s important.”
“Oh God…”
“Can I ask, when was your last period?”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “What?”
“You want to make a baby, right? I need to work out when the best time will be, so we can organize the wedding.”
Her mouth forms an O. Then, eventually, she says, “You want to wait until we’re married to have sex?”
“If we’re doing this, we do it properly. Marriage first. Then we start trying. It’ll look less like a stunt for the board. And I want our first time to mean something. The wedding night is perfect. So… first day of your last period?”
“Um…” She pulls out her phone and brings up her calendar. “Seventh of December.”
“And how long is your cycle normally?”
“Twenty-eight or twenty-nine days.”
“So the next one is due around sixth of Jan?” She nods.
“Let’s use twenty-eight days as it’s easier.
Ovulation would be day fourteen, which is the nineteenth of January.
We’ll make it the Saturday before so we can hit the whole fertility window.
So… sixteenth of January it is.” I type it in and look up at her.
“Is what?”
“Our wedding day.”
She stares at me. “You mean next month?”
“Yeah. Unless you want to wait until the year after?” I smile. “I thought you wanted a baby as soon as possible? This way, you’ll be fertile practically the whole week after we get married. With luck and a following wind, you’ll find out you’re pregnant at the beginning of Feb.”
Her mouth opens again, and I can see the realization sinking in like raisins into cake batter. Slowly, her lips curve up, and she gives a beautiful smile. “The beginning of February,” she whispers.
“Yeah. I mean, I know it’s generally a one in three chance, but if we’re lucky you could be giving birth around…” I look at the app. “The middle of October.”
That makes her laugh. “This year?” she says. “I could have a baby this year?”
“Yeah.” I can’t help but smile at the sheer happiness on her face. “You like that idea?”
She nods. “I still can’t quite believe it.”
“It’s a lot easier than IVF. A lot more likely to work. And a lot more fun.”
She ignores the last part. “How do you know about IVF and dates and stuff?”
“You said you wanted a baby. So I did my research. If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it properly.
If there’s a way of increasing your chances of getting pregnant, I’m going to make sure we do it.
” I skim my gaze down her, taking in the swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips.
“The thought of doing my best to get you pregnant is kinda hot.”
“Oh my God, Mars!”
I chuckle. Then I look at my calendar again. “What are you doing on New Year’s Eve?”
“Um… not much.”
“Okay. We’ll make that our formal engagement party.”
She inhales sharply. “Oh no.”
“Oh yes. Although you need to meet my parents before then.”
“I’ve met your parents, remember?”
“As my fiancée, I mean. But we can officially announce the engagement to the board at the party. I’ll try to keep you out of the press as much as I can, but they’re going to want a photograph of us together.”
“I can’t…”
“It’ll just be small. Think of yourself holding our baby.”
She stops in her tracks and gives me a wry look. Her expression softens, which melts me all over again. Then she blows out a breath and nods.
“That’s my girl.”
“Oh, stop it.” She rubs her nose. “I don’t have anything to wear.”
“That’s okay, I’m going to give you some money. Don’t flip out. There are going to be a few events like the engagement party where we’ll have to be seen together, and I want you to feel confident in what you’re wearing. If you need some help, just ask.”
“I think I know what clothes to buy.”
“Don’t glare at me. I meant if you want me to recommend some shops, I can do that.”
“I told you I don’t want your money. I want your father to know I requested that to be in the prenup.”
I hesitate and look out to sea. I’d like to have taken Wren to meet my parents and for us to have been super romantic.
But there are several factors that are going to make that impossible.
For a start, Wren asked Caesar to be a sperm donor, and Aurelia knows that, too.
They both therefore know this isn’t a love match—yet.
And the issue of my father’s ultimatum, and how quickly I’ll be announcing the wedding, means he’ll suspect I engineered the marriage.
But what did he expect when he told us we might lose the company?
“I’m sorry,” Wren says softly. “That came out a little harshly. I just don’t want your father—or Caesar, or anyone else—to think I’m a fortune hunter.”
I look back at her. “I understand.”
“You should have a prenup, anyway.”
“Yeah. It’s not the most romantic of things, though.”
“No, I suppose not. But we both need to protect ourselves. This is an arrangement, not a love match.”
For you, Wren. I don’t say the words. But I think them.