Shift
ESTELLE
“Get out of the car, Estelle,” Carlos says calmly.
So calm, in fact, that I want to hit him.
I press my back harder into the leather seats, my arms firmly folded over my chest. If he thinks I’m going to let him have his way, then he doesn’t know me at all.
Yet another reason why I should not marry him.
“I’m not getting out of this car. Take me home.”
“You’re acting like a child,” he says. Still calm.
Still so fucking calm.
My teeth grind against each other. “Take. Me. Home.” I grit out each word, not looking at him once.
I feel his gaze on me from where he’s standing right outside the open doorway, one hand gripping the top of the car door. He can wait forever for all I care.
Who proposes to someone like that?
Without even actually proposing.
No.
It was more of an imposition, like I’m some kind of dog he needs to bring to heel. I thought he was joking with Detective Harris, or fooling her, or something else.
And I went along with it, keeping my expression smooth in front of her. Playing the game. Fooling the cops.
A strategy.
Only it wasn’t.
“Estelle—”
“Shut up. Just shut up. I will not marry you.”
He sighs.
Like I’m the unreasonable one.
I’m the crazy one.
His fingers start to tap against the top of the metal frame and silence stretches between us. The deafening sound of a plane taking off rattles the car, reminding me of where we are, and why I should not, under any circumstances, get out of this car.
“Baby—”
“I’m not your baby,” I snap.
“Estelle—”
"No.”
He growls, running a hand through his hair and turning around, giving me his back. If Ross hadn’t taken the keys with him, I would jump into the driver’s seat and get the hell out of here.
Another plane takes off on the runway, a smaller one, but the sound still makes me tense. We’re parked so close to the airfield. Of course Carlos can’t just get on a commercial plane like a normal person.
Of course, he has a private jet at his beck and call to take him wherever he wants to go, whenever he wants.
Right now, it’s parked on the tarmac, waiting to fly us to Vegas for a shot gun wedding. Correction, it’s waiting for him—not us, because there’s no way in hell I’m going with Carlos Fuentes to Las Vegas.
Not for our wedding.
He turns back to look at me. “The Feds think you are the key to their investigation into me. They will do anything within their power to get you to testify against me.”
I stiffen and finally look at him. “I wouldn’t do that.”
His features soften. “You wouldn’t have a choice. That’s how subpoenas work.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, realizing how much of a mess I’ve gotten myself into.
“What about the NDA?”
“Testifying in court is the one loophole.” He looks away, jaw tense. “They found out I have informants and even feds on my payroll, even though they don’t know who. They kept their investigation on the down low, but I’ve caught up now. They don’t have anything to tie everything together.”
Unless they have me?
This is bullshit. “What about Alice?”
“She's...moved abroad.”
I shake my head, trying to step into his shoes for a moment to understand why he thinks marrying me is the solution.
“Carlos,” I say softly, “I don’t think it’s right to get married just so you can tie up a loose end.”
His eyes turn into steel. “You’re not a loose end.”
Right.
He can see on my face that I don’t believe him. We stare at each other for a long moment, unrelenting.
“I won't let them use you, Estelle. I won’t let them put you in that kind of position. Ever.” He speaks with such conviction, but I’m starting to wonder how much power he really has to keep that kind of promise. “If we’re married, by law, you can refuse to testify against me.”
“Is that the only reason you want us to get married?” My voice is small, and I try to ignore the lump in my throat.
I’m not a girly girl. I don’t spend my days daydreaming about wedding dresses and walking down the aisle, but I want more.
And I’m not going to apologize for it.
I can finally admit to myself that I’m falling for him, and it hurts to think there are other reasons influencing his proposal, instead of just the one reason I care about.
Elsa told me word on the street is the grim reaper only wears a tie when he’s at war. He’s not wearing one now, and in all fairness, I did tell him we would talk about us after his war is over.
I shift across the seat and step out of the car, our eyes still locked, stuck in an unspoken wrestling match.
“Is there more?” I whisper.
Can we be more?
“When they told me that you got arrested,” he breathes in sharply, “I couldn’t breathe. All I could think about is how they had taken you away from me, where I couldn’t reach you.”
He steps closer until our foreheads meet. My heart is hammering in my chest at his words. “I can’t bear to feel that again, little dove. Please, let me protect you. Always stay where I can reach you.”
I swallow hard. “Is that reason enough to get married?”
He dips his head.
The kiss is soft, leisurely, as if he’s revealing a side of himself in this moment.
Sweet.
Vulnerable.
My heart aches as I lean into him, giving as much as he is, hoping he feels the need in me for more.
More of him.
When we break the kiss, something has shifted. Like the world broke apart and rearranged itself for us, and the ground underneath my feet feels different, firmer.
“Ask me,” I whisper.
He pulls back to look at me, really look at me.
“Estelle, I want to build a life with you. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. Marry me,” he says.
“That doesn’t sound like a question, Carlos,” I say with a smile.
“Infuriating woman,” he groans low, then looks intently into my eyes. “Will you marry me?”
I almost tell him how crazy I am about him. “Yes.”
He expels a loud breath. His large hand engulfs mine and he interlocks our fingers.
“Then let’s go to Vegas.”