Chapter 32 #2
"I do." He looks straight into my eyes. "It’s someone I've had on my mind for a while.
Someone I have amazing chemistry with. Someone who is gorgeous inside and out.
Someone, who not only has the most incredible curves, but also a beautiful soul.
Someone who is kind and generous, and also quirky, and never fails to liven up the atmosphere when she walks into a room.
Someone I trust. Someone who I know will take good care of Serene. "
My heart bounces back into my throat, and if he says one more word, I'm afraid I'll lose it. So, he does have a woman in his life? I didn’t think he did. I haven’t seen any woman coming around, so I just assumed he was single.
Given how hands-on he likes to be with Serene, I assumed there was no other woman in his life.
But I never asked him. Was I wrong? And he trusts her with Serene?
But I've never seen anyone else interacting with Serene.
This can't be happening. Is this his way of letting me down gently? Telling me I’m out of a job? I feel like someone is choking me.
"So… You have a g-girlfriend?" I say through lips that feel numb. He certainly played the role of harassed father who had no time for anything or anyone else so well that I believed him. But all along, he’s been dating someone else? That cad. Anger begins a slow boil in my tummy.
"This woman is…the only other person who plays an important part in my life, other than Serene. In fact, I went ahead and got a ring for her." He pulls a velvet box from his pocket and places it on the table between us.
"B-but I haven't seen anyone else around here…" I say through gritted teeth. The anger boils up, spreading to my extremities. My entire body trembles with suppressed rage while disappointment is like an anchor embedded in my chest.
I look around the space again. Can I make an excuse and get out of here?
Too bad, we’re in my apartment, otherwise, I’d have left already.
And the place is owned by him, so I can’t ask him to leave.
Oh, my God. This is crazy. I can’t sit here and listen to him spout praise for some other woman, can I?
As for that…box? I can’t bear to look at it. I can’t.
"Uh… I… I think I need another cup of tea." Maybe something stronger? But I only have wine. I need…a shot of tequila, or perhaps, vodka? Yes, vodka, neat. But I can’t really pour liquor and toss it back in front of the person who is, for all purposes, my employer and who’s child I’m responsible for.
I settle for: "I… I'm out of sugar. I need to run out to get some. "
I jump up and try to inch away, when he growls, "Sit down." Then, he shakes his head. "Damn, I’m not doing a good job of this.” He draws in a deep breath and seems to get himself under control. “Please?" He urges me in a much softer voice.
I sit down. And not only because he said the P-word. That dominance in his tone…does funny things to my insides. I can’t refuse him. Even though, this is the last place I want to be.
He pulls the ring from the box and holds it up. The light coming in through the window bounces off the golden-brown gemstone with a silky glow that shifts across the surface. The stone is oval cut and placed in a six-pronged setting, with the band itself made of rose-gold.
"It’s beautiful." I’m unable to take my gaze off of it. It’s not mine. It’s not for me. Yet… It’s so gorgeous. So special. I feel like it’s calling to me.
"It belonged to my grandmother."
He means Arthur’s now-dead wife.
"She left behind a piece of jewelry for each of her sons and grandsons to give to their future wives." And he wants to give it to her. So, he feels something for her? He must. That’s the only reason he’d give her a family heirloom as a ring.
My heart vacates my body, leaving an empty cavity in my chest. My pulse booms in my temples so loudly, I can barely hear myself think.
Which is strange, given I don’t have a heart anymore.
So how can the blood still be pumping in my body?
How can I still be alive and listening to him go on about another woman?
Bloody hell. Where’s your self-respect? Get out of here; leave before you say something you’re going to regret.
"Can you try it on?" he rumbles.
"What?" I jerk my chin in his direction. "No," I burst out, "I can’t do that."
His eyebrows knit. He rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck, then once more, fixes me with his hypnotic heterochromatic gaze, “I want to see how it looks."
What’s that got to do with me? My thoughts spiral, clawing at anything that might make sense. This is…some special kind of hell he’s putting me through.
If you survive this, imagine what else you’re capable of?
Another self-help platitude, which seems particularly apt for this situation. Only, it’s easier to read and far more difficult to implement in real life.
"Please.” His throat bobs. “I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important."
What the— Why does he look as desperate as I feel? Something in his voice—low, rough, full of something close to agony—cuts through the storm in my head. I swing my gaze to his and, oh shoot, that was a mistake.
The plea in those stunning mismatched eyes makes my breath catch. What’s he up to?
The first slivers of doubt pierce the panic that grips my mind. No, surely not… He doesn’t mean to… Nah. Not possible.
But the thought sparks, catches, spreads like wildfire. My heart pounds so hard in my chest, I’m sure it’s going to crack through my rib cage. I can feel the blood rush in my ears. The world shrinks to him, to this, to now.
When I don’t react, he holds out his hand. Not forceful. Not demanding. Just… Steady. Certain.
As if he did a mind-meld, I place my hand in his.
He slips it onto my left ring finger.