Chapter Three #2
Fear, trepidation and a little hope—because Dante held some serious purse strings and, for the right investment opportunities, wasn’t afraid to use them. How many times had she excused herself from a boring, impromptu elevator pitch aimed at Dante, about something or other that needed funding?
‘Dante,’ Grant stuck out a hand. He had small fingers, but she’d already registered that, when she’d scanned for a wedding ring. ‘Nice to see you again.’
Dante dipped his head once in silent acknowledgement before transferring his gaze to Charlotte. ‘Now.’ His voice rang with command but also something new. Anger?
He looked unbearably good in a bespoke, jet-black suit jacket, snowy white shirt and crisp black bow tie. His dark hair was brushed back from his brow and he smelled like his cologne—a citrussy fragrance that never failed to curl her toes.
‘Actually, no,’ she batted her lashes at him, ignoring the way her whole body seemed to spark to life at the sight of him.
‘Think again,’ he said, a warning in his voice that sent a frisson of desire up her spine.
At the same time, Grant said, ‘That’s fine, Charlotte. We can have that drink later.’
A muscle jerked in Dante’s jaw and his eyes didn’t leave her face. The intensity of his look was making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.
‘I’m thirsty now,’ she said, turning back to Grant, flashing a megawatt smile. ‘And Dante and I really have nothing to say to each other.’
But Grant evidently knew what side his bread was buttered on—or at least, which side he hoped it might be, because he was already backing away, smiling obsequiously at Dante.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ she muttered under her breath before whirling around. ‘I suppose I should be glad,’ she hissed. ‘I don’t think I could handle being married—even just on paper married—to such a coward.’
Dante’s smirk was infuriating.
‘You think this is funny?’
The smile dropped. He glared at her again. ‘Believe me, funny is the last thing I find this situation.’
She glared right back. ‘Well, then, it’s just as well that it’s none of your business. You turned me down, that’s fine. I accept it. But don’t get in the way of my husband browsing now, please.’
‘Husband browsing?’ he repeated with incredulity. ‘Are you even hearing yourself?’
She rolled her eyes, then wished she hadn’t when she felt the way his whole body tensed in response.
‘You cannot simply choose a random man and get married.’
‘Oh yeah? Why not?’ She crossed her arms over her chest, her temper spiking so that now her pulse was thundering for a whole other reason.
‘Because it will make you miserable.’
He stared at her as though he was choosing his next words with care. Or maybe like he was fighting something, inwardly. Either way, she didn’t have time for it.
Charlotte sighed. ‘It’s out of my hands.
I need to do this—and fast.’ She turned, to walk away, because standing there and staring at him was like trying to hold your ground on quicksand—impossible.
She wanted to reach out and touch him, to wrap her arms around the waist she knew to be toned and taut, to hold him close to her body and just breathe him in, before lifting up and teasing his lips with hers, brushing them lightly.
..but she didn’t. Instead, she began to walk towards the bar, hating the way her frustration had morphed into something else.
Something unforgivably like regret, because she hadn’t wanted to walk away from him at all.
But a hand on her wrist stopped Charlotte mid-step and a light tug had her turning back to face him.
His face was the very definition of ‘thunderclouds’ but she didn’t get why. Unless he was actually jealous? Jealousy, though, had no place in their relationship. They both knew that.
Then again, if she’d seen some gorgeous woman draped over him, eagerly hanging on his every word, she might have felt a stirring of that emotion despite what they’d promised each other. That was a normal biological impulse, she reasoned, as ancient as time itself.
‘I am not going to let you marry someone you barely know.’
‘You’re not going to let me?’ she repeated, voice squeaking.
He made no attempt at apology.
‘Dante, you don’t get to “let” me do anything.’
‘Want a bet?’
She stared at him, not comprehending.
‘If you are determined to go through with this—,’
‘Which I am—,’
His nostrils flared. ‘Then we’ll do it your way.’
Silence crashed around them. She stared up at him, her heart racing as she tried to understand what he was saying.
‘You’ve changed your mind? I thought you didn’t want to get married.’
‘Believe me, I don’t.’
She ignored the flicker of pain, familiar rejection crushing her insides, and straightened her spine. ‘Then fine, leave me alone.’ She pulled on her wrist but he didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled her closer, so she bumped right into his chest.
‘But I see no reason why us getting married has to fundamentally change the parameters of our relationship.’
Her heart stammered.
‘We have spent six months sleeping together and successfully avoided any emotional entanglement.’
‘Agreed.’
‘Then our marriage will be the same.’
Her heart slammed into her ribs. Every cell in her body began to tremble and shake. Married. It was something she’d sworn she’d never, ever do. Never love a guy. Never marry. But Dante was just talking about a continuation of what they already had. It was easy. Everything she wanted.
‘You’re saying yes?’
‘Provisionally, yes.’
‘Provisionally?’ she arched a brow, then made a show of looking around. ‘I need a firm answer. Because one way or another, I’m walking out of here with a husband tonight.’
His jaw visibly shifted as he ground his teeth. ‘You are walking out of here with me, tonight, Shaw.’
She arched a brow. ‘You seem to think you have a right to boss me around.’
His nostrils flared. ‘You’re asking me for a favour, I’m telling you how it will work.’
‘How, exactly?’
He looked around then, as if only just becoming aware of the attention they were drawing. ‘Not here. Let’s go back to my place where we can talk in privacy.’
‘Talk?’ she prompted, with a small half-smile.
His eyes bore into hers. ‘Oh, don’t get me wrong, Charlotte, that will just be for starters. I don’t even want to think about how you might have spent the night if I hadn’t happened to be here.’
She drew in a deep breath. ‘You think I would have gone home with him?’ she asked, incensed by the assumption.
‘It sure as hell looked like that was his plan for the night.’
‘Yeah, well, it wasn’t mine,’ she huffed out. How could he even think such a thing?
‘Then you’ll have no problem with me making it very clear to him, and anyone else who might have been on your radar?’
‘Making what clear?’
‘That you’re mine, Charlotte. At least, when it comes to this, anyway.’
And before she could ask him was ‘this’ meant, he dropped his head and claimed her mouth in a kiss that was as harshly angry as it was passionately, addictively hot...