Chapter 43 Gabriel
Gabriel
Almost Sixteen Months Ago
After my meeting in James Mellinger’s office where he told me to put a ring on Sydney’s finger, I headed straight to the restaurant to chase off Sydney’s date.
I hadn’t worked out yet exactly how I was going to change things between us, but one thing’s for sure—starting the next chapter of our lives with “Let’s make a deal” was never part of the plan.
Her eyes flare wide in shock at my, admittedly, asinine proposal. “You’re not funny.”
“I’m not trying to be.” I’m a desperate man on the edge.
She blinks repeatedly. Sputters. Lifts a hand.
“I said ‘play.’ For reasons I’m not interested in going into, I’m not asking for a sexual relationship with you,” I say.
“I don’t know which is more offensive: thinking you wanted me for sex or finding out you don’t, when you once told me yourself, ‘I’m not picky.’”
Heat curls up my neck. “I was emotionally unhealed, then, Walsh. I’m a changed man,” I say blithely.
Obviously, I want to have sex with her. It would be the highlight of my existence. What I’m not willing to do is pressure her into it.
She rolls her eyes. “Uh-huh.”
“You want out of your contract early. I want the world to view me as someone who’s settled down. I can’t think of anyone more steady and normal to marry than a chemical engineer and former collegiate athlete.”
“Getting married won’t convince people of anything.”
“It’s only one piece in the big picture. I also plan to become more hands-on with our charities,” I say.
“Why do you care what people think at all?”
I lean back in my chair and prepare to sell this proposal. “Having a reputation as a steady, married man will be good for business.”
She gapes, her mouth opening and closing as though she’s incapable of forming a coherent thought, let alone speaking.
It’s not exactly a flattering reaction.
“I’m open to negotiate terms. I would expect you to participate in public and family events with the purpose of providing proof of our happy relationship.
A nondisclosure is a given. Anything I provide for you during our marriage, such as clothing, jewelry, gifts, or cash, are yours to keep. I plan to be generous.”
“We’d be miserable.”
I don’t believe that for a second. I force a shrug. “Or we continue as we are for the next three years.”
“It would make more sense for you to find someone else without our history or complications.” Her face and voice go sour when she mentions the possibility of another woman.
She’s jealous. The thought probably shouldn’t fill me with triumph. “I have no interest in finding someone else.”
“Why not?”
“Maybe I’m madly in love with you, and this is my last-ditch effort to win your affection.” I smirk but map every twitch in her expression to gauge her reaction.
Her brows come together. She busies herself with rearranging her napkin, then she looks back up at me and offers a saccharine smile. “If that were actually true, I’d feel sorry for you and your unattainable dreams.”
I cover my disappointment with an expression of boredom.
I nearly fake a yawn at her venom but pull back.
It’d be too far, and she’d clock me. “Does it matter why? I have the ability to release you from your existing contract early. You have something I want. And we’re both conveniently here at the right place and time.
One more year. Then no more surprise interruptions.
No more life in a gilded cage. No more waiting to see what I come up with next or for me to walk in the door with your favorite coffee, only to drag you off on another trip for ‘work’ that was really just another vacation,” I coax.
Legs crossed beneath the table, her foot bobs with nervous energy, an outward sign of the chaos roiling within her. The tablecloth flutters each time her foot moves. “I can’t actually be considering this,” she mutters. She spears me with a glance. “I’d need to keep my own apartment.”
Fuck that. “No. As my wife, you’d live with me. If you don’t like my place, we’ll choose a new home together.”
“I understand that, but I’d need to have a place to go if you ever . . .”
“If I what?”
“If I feel unsafe with you.”
My breath stutters. Nausea crawls up my throat. “You’re afraid of me?”
“No. But there’s no telling what can happen in the future.
People can be different when they live in the same space or when they’re under the influence.
And if you’re bringing people to screw into our home, I want a warning so I can leave.
I’m not listening to that, and I’m not waking up to find strangers where I sleep. ”
Her childhood was full of it, I know. She’s told me.
“Having extramarital sex would defeat the entire purpose of this marriage. Neither one of us will be sleeping with anyone else. And I won’t be under the influence of anything stronger than a couple of Advil. I would cut off my own arm before I hurt you.”
“I’ve heard promises before. I still want to keep my apartment.”
“If you run off to a bolt-hole every time you’re annoyed, people will question our relationship,” I say.
“Put the apartment in a prenup. I want ownership. It’s a hard limit for me. But I promise I’ll only stay there if I feel unsafe, you’ve been drinking or using, or you bring someone into our home to party or have sex.”
Since I won’t be doing any of those things, she won’t be going anywhere. “It’s a reasonable compromise. You won’t have cause to use that apartment even once.”
“I haven’t agreed yet.”
“Name the rest of your terms.”
“You mentioned working on charities. Would you consider creating a new one?”
My heart rate picks up speed at the realization that she’s seriously considering saying yes.
I lean in. “Tell me more.”
“I want to start a program for foster kids who are aging out of the system.” She speaks faster than usual in her excitement. “I realize it’s a huge undertaking, but if we start out small, it could be doable. Maybe ten kids?”
I shake my head. “It wouldn’t make sense to start out that small. Do you have any projections on cost or other programs that exist so we can attempt to fill the gaps?”
“I only know what it costs me one at a time.”
I shouldn’t be surprised. “That’s what you spent the money on?”
“Not all of it. I had a scholarship, but I still had to take out loans for books and living expenses. I paid those off too.”
“It’ll take time to build this from the ground up.” And if she becomes invested in it enough, she won’t be willing to walk away at the end of our year of marriage.
Her eyes light with that sparkle I adore. “Really? That’s a ‘yes’?”
My lips tug up. “My yes depends on yours, or did you forget that I proposed marriage?”
She extends a shaking hand. “Yes.”
I get to my feet and walk to stand beside her. “I’m not shaking the hand of the woman who just agreed to be my wife. Part of this is convincing people we’re in love. We may as well start as we mean to go on.”
I take both her hands in mine and she rises, her eyes searching mine in stunned confusion. “What?”
The open door to the main dining room means we’re fully on display to the crowd beyond this room. I lean in close and murmur, “We have an audience.”
She twists to look behind her.
I place my palm on her jaw and guide her face back to mine. “Don’t look,” I chide in teasing exasperation.
“Oh.” Her brows come together.
“You’re frowning.”
She overcompensates by lifting her eyebrows so high that she looks surprised. When I laugh quietly near her ear, she shudders, and her nipples visibly harden beneath her dress.
I draw her slowly into my arms, watching for any sign she wants me to back off.
“May I kiss you?” I ask, my lips an inch from hers.
“Okay. Yes. You should kiss me. For authenticity,” she breathes.
Was I ever this nervous about a kiss in my life? No, but there was also never this much riding on it. This kiss is the culmination of years of longing. It’s my chance to convince her she needs my touch, and to make her crave more.
Sleeping Beauty woke to True Love’s Kiss. Surely, we have more going for us than a half-dead princess and a prince she’d never laid eyes on before.
Her fingers twist into the fabric of my shirt.
I place my palm on the center of her back, the warm strength of her reassuring. Yeah, I’m nervous, but this is Sydney. The worst-case scenario is her challenging me to do better next time.
Sydney whimpers and rises on her tiptoes to close the distance, impatient with my teasing.
My lips touch hers gently, barely making contact, then I raise my head.
For the space of three heartbeats, we simply stare into each other’s eyes, both of us breathing hard from something that should have been nothing but feels like everything.
I swoop back down, both hands delving into her hair.
She meets me in a volcanic eruption seven years in the making.
The touch of her tongue to mine moves the world, picks it up, and shakes it like a snow globe.
My entire body hardens with want. It’s not just lust. It’s my heart.
It’s my mind. She’s the woman sworn to never give herself to me. And I’m the man who’d die to be hers.
The door clicks closed, and I lift my head. Some enterprising staff member decided to give us privacy.
I brace myself for her to backtrack. Instead, she looks as dazed as I feel.
“What happens next?” she asks.
“What else? Paperwork.”