Chapter Two
Dante San Marino literally felt the colour drain from his face. At the mere mention of the word ‘marriage’, he practically broke out into a cold sweat, so utterly traumatised was he by his first foray into that whole way of life.
Which had been the one and only failure Dante had ever had to live through.
He hadn’t enjoyed the experience and had no interest in repeating it.
Particularly not with a woman he’d developed a very satisfying, no-strings relationship with over the past six months.
At least, he thought it had been ‘no strings’, that they’d been completely on the same page regarding that.
Now here she was, sitting opposite him, calmly asking him to marry her.
Like they were choosing what to share for dessert.
‘I thought I explained all this to you.’ His voice rang with his trademark authority, a deep voice of easy command.
He reached for his mineral water, keeping his eyes on the woman who, up until three minutes ago, he’d presumed he’d be taking back to his bed that night for yet another very satisfying session.
‘Nothing about what we’re doing is serious. ’
Charlotte Shaw’s wide-set green eyes met his without a hint of emotion. ‘I’m aware of that.’
‘And yet, you’re proposing to me?’
The corner of her lips—painted a bright red and distractingly full, even now—lifted as if with mocking amusement.
‘Not in the sense of a traditional marriage.’
He arched a brow. ‘Is there any other kind of marriage?’
‘Well, yes, actually. I’m glad you asked.
’ She reached for her own drink—an Aperol spritz that she’d had waiting on the table even before he’d arrived.
As if she’d needed the Dutch courage, though Charlotte was unstintingly confident and independent—two of the qualities he admired most about her.
‘There are marriages like this, for example.’
He suppressed a shudder at her casual reference to their ‘marriage’. ‘We’re not getting married.’
‘Hear me out,’ she implored. ‘You owe me that much, don’t you think?’
Her question was like a lightning bolt, spiking through him. ‘I don’t owe you anything. What we’ve been doing has been mutually agreed upon and satisfying, but neither one of us gave more than we took.’
‘True,’ she conceded, with a dip of her head. Honesty was another trait he liked in Charlotte.
‘You said you never wanted to get married.’
‘I don’t,’ she reassured him.
‘Then this makes no sense.’
Her smile now was not just a corner of her lips, but rather her whole, beautiful mouth, revealing her gleaming white teeth and that deep dimple in her cheeks—one of the first things he’d noticed about her, the night they’d met at a charity gala.
Followed swiftly by her confidence and poise, by the direct way she had of staring at a person.
‘You’re the second person to say that to me this week.’
He arched a brow in silent enquiry and Charlotte waved a slender-wristed hand through the air. ‘Oh, Jane thinks I’m quite mad, too.’
He furrowed his brow. He’d met Charlotte’s best friend Jane on the same night he’d met Charlotte, though if pressed to describe her, he wouldn’t have been able to say more than that she had blond hair and had, he thought, been wearing a long, black dress.
But he knew from conversations with Charlotte that the two women lived together, worked together and were basically inseparable.
So the fact Jane also thought Charlotte had come up with some hair-brained, half-baked scheme boded well for Dante.
‘Okay, so how about we just forget it and go back to what we do best.’
‘Which is?’
Beneath the table, he pressed one foot out, stroking her calf, and saw the way her eyes widened in surprise.
‘This.’
She bit down on her lower lip, massaging it with her teeth. His gut twisted for a whole other reason now, with a rush of blood heading south.
‘Dante, listen to me.’ Her voice was husky though and, when she reached for her drink, those beautiful hands weren’t quite steady. ‘I know this is just sex. That’s one of the reasons I decided to talk to you first.’
His lips flicked with a quick, thunderstorm of dislike. First implied there were others to come if he said ‘no’.
‘I like having sex with you,’ she said, as though they were discussing the weather. ‘But what I like even more is that you and I are on the same page about a whole host of things.’
Dante’s frown broadened. Because in many ways, they were complete opposites.
Charlotte was a free-spirited bohemian who bought second-hand clothes and sponged off her best friend.
He wasn’t one to give expensive gifts but on the few occasions he’d suggested flying her with him to his island in the Med, she’d refused so much as the gift of a seat on his jet.
Dante admired her pride, but not her hatred for capitalism and financial success.
‘We’re chalk and cheese, Shaw, and you know it.’
She laughed then, a sound that didn’t help the whole blood-flow situation. His cock strained against the zip of his pants and suddenly he wanted to dispense not only with this conversation but with dinner too, so they could get straight back to his apartment.
‘Okay, yes, we’re chalk and cheese. But that’s what makes this plan so great.’
‘Go on,’ he said, his tone like iron despite a deep feeling of reluctance to continue this conversation.
‘We don’t really like each other,’ she said, with a lift of one shoulder.
‘I like you just fine.’
‘You like sleeping with me,’ she retorted, whip fast. ‘This relationship is about sex. It has been since day one. I think you’re arrogant, shallow, bossy, capitalistic and sometimes kind of rude.’
He laughed then, because the description was so bluntly, honestly and deservedly given.
‘I also think you’re as cold as ice.’ She shuddered a little. ‘A total closed book on anything beyond the superficial. And that’s okay, because in bed, there’s nothing cold about a damned thing between us. And that’s what I’m here for.’
‘Except, for the whole marriage thing?’ he drawled, glad for her abrupt rendering of his character.
‘Right,’ she nodded. ‘The thing is, I need to get married and quickly. It can’t be a pretend engagement, or I’d just hire someone, with a watertight NDA.
No, this has to be an actual, legal wedding.
Except, I can’t marry someone I like and I can’t marry someone who might like me—I don’t want the emotional complications right now. I need this to be easy.’
He nodded along like this all made perfect sense when, of course, the opposite was true.
He tried to focus on the facts she’d hinted at but not revealed.
Something like acid seemed to burn the back of his throat.
He leaned forward, eyes pinning her, as years of fights and failings built inside of him then burst like a storm cloud as his worst fear appeared before his eyes.
‘Charlotte...are you pregnant?’ The question came out calmly, although his pulse had ratchetted up about a thousand per cent.
Her own eyes widened with the same sense of shock he was feeling. ‘What?’
‘I mean, it’s the twenty-first century, but it’s the only reason I can think of for this sudden, desperate need to marry.’
‘What the actual...?’ She swallowed the curse word at the last minute, but her cheeks were flushed with pink. ‘I’ll have you know I was raised by a single mother. I would never get married just because I happened to be pregnant with some guy’s kid.’
He arched a brow at her passionate, if slightly provocative, defence. ‘Some guy being me?’
‘Or anyone’s,’ she swore.
‘And what if the guy—in this hypothetical scenario, me—wanted to marry, for the sake of the baby?’
Her jaw dropped, her eyes flashing with something he could have sworn was anguish before there was fire back in every line of her being. ‘Then that guy—you—would have to take a serious course correction.’
‘And what about the baby?’
She squared her shoulders, visibly calming herself down. ‘What about the baby?’ she demanded with hauteur.
‘Call me old fashioned, but if a couple can make it work and raise a baby together, isn’t that better?’
‘Better than what?’ Her eyes narrowed.
‘The alternative.’
‘Which is?’
‘Single parenthood.’
‘See, this is exactly what I’m talking about,’ she said, looking at him like he’d sprouted two heads. ‘This is why I could never like you.’
He laughed then, but with a sound of disbelief, as he shook his head.
A waiter appeared and Dante ordered for both of them, without consulting the menu, adding a bottle of champagne for good measure.
They were probably not going to be celebrating, but he was still hopeful they’d be putting this bizarre conversation behind them and moving to the bedroom portion of the evening before too long.
‘You say things like that as though it’s normal and it’s not.
Getting married is...totally personal and subjective and no one should get married for the sake of a baby, who can be raised just fine, as I am living proof thank you very much, without some ridiculous ceremony having been conducted between two consenting adults who would rather eat glass than get married. ’
He sat back in his chair, loving the way the fire of her temper made Charlotte’s eyes flash, and her lips move faster than normal.
The way her soft, auburn hair bounced around her ivory face like flames flicked in a fire grate.
And most of all, loving the way the swell of her cleavage lifted and fell with each rush of breath she drew in.
‘We can agree to disagree, given that it’s not relevant.’
Her lips gaped. ‘Fine.’ She glanced away from him, once more visibly trying to calm down.
The waiter returned with the champagne, went to uncork it but Dante shook his head dismissively and reached for the bottle. ‘I’ll do it.’ He wanted to be left alone with Charlotte and sooner rather than later.