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“But…” he offered, because her tone implied it.
Damn. Was she going to say no? He did not believe it.
She fiddled with her silverware, looking down at the table before meeting his gaze, her own filled with certainty. “And you know how important my dad’s health is to me.”
“Yes.”
“But I won’t let you use either to blackmail me into marriage.”
“You won’t.” A flurry of curse words fought to come out of his mouth. Maxwell bit them back.
Romi reached out and picked up the ring box. “So, you’re going to have to deal with the fact that I’m agreeing because I can’t imagine living the rest of my life without you in it.”
Everything inside of Maxwell went still. “What?”
Romi’s gaze warmed with emotion he refused to name. “I will marry you.”
Totally unexpected and extremely unfamiliar panic filled him. “I don’t love you. I won’t love you.” Double damn. Why did his code of honor insist on rearing its head right now?
“So you’ve said.”
“And you are okay with that?” he asked, his mouth spilling words his brain had not authorized.
“Does it matter?”
She should ask. He’d been willing to give her compelling motivation to do what he wanted.
But this…this offer of herself because she wanted to do it? He had no frame of reference for it, zero sense of control with it.
“It does,” he admitted shortly.
“You don’t sound happy about that.”
“I don’t like the rules of the game to change.”
“Unless you’re the one doing the changing?”
“That goes without saying.”
“I’ll sign the prenup,” she offered, like a lollipop to a crying child.
He frowned. “Yes, you will.”
She grinned. “Feel better?”
“I did not feel badly to begin with. You are accepting my deal, whatever your reasons.” That was exactly what he wanted.
“Yes, I am.”
Why did he feel like that was entirely on her terms and because it was what she wanted? She’d agreed to sign the prenup. She’d agreed to the marriage. His plan had led to exactly the outcome he wanted, but somehow it had become her plan, too.
Was that what it meant to marry rather than take a lover? No other woman had ever influenced Maxwell’s plans.
He sipped his wine, almost enjoying the sense of being off-kilter. It was so foreign to him. Maybe when the source was the woman who had blown his mind in bed the night before, it wasn’t such a bad thing.
“I told your father I was going to marry you,” Maxwell informed her.
Romi cast Maxwell a wary glance. “You were right.”
“He seemed to think it would only happen if you wanted it to.”
Romi grinned. “He was right, too.”
For the first time in adult memory, Maxwell did not know what to say. She had chosen him even though he didn’t love her like her father had loved her mother. What did that mean? Did she see an expiration date on their relationship?
Was the sex that good?
Did she plan to find the love of her life after Maxwell?
Anger washed over him at the idea.
Romi handed him the Tiffany box.
He took it with a silent question.
“I’d like to tell our children about the moment their father proposed.”
That did not sound like a woman planning to move on to someone else later. Still, he couldn’t let her think this was a romantic moment between two people who believed in forever. “I am not going on one knee.”
“Fine.” She stared at him expectantly, the vibrant blue of her eyes glowing with it.
“You already agreed to marry me.”
“Yes.” She sighed, some of the expectation dimming and along with it the glow. “Do you really want me to put the ring on myself?”
“No!” Damn. Where had that come from?
Her expression lightened and only then did he realize hurt had begun to shadow her blue gaze. That’s where the glow had gone.
The Russian curse words that flowed through his mind in that moment put the others to shame.
He stood and moved around the table until he stood beside her chair. Leaning down, he gripped the back of the chair and turned it so she faced him.
Her eyes had gone round, her mouth dropping open in surprise. “Max?”
“There should be a story for our children.” Russians understood family stories, the history that really mattered.
It wasn’t about promising love for a lifetime.
He dropped to one knee, flipped the ring box open and offered it to Romi. “Will you marry me, Ramona Grayson?”
Beautiful blue eyes glistening suspiciously, she nodded her head really fast.
“Words, dorogaya. Give me the words. For your children.” And for him, though he would never say so.
“Yes, Maxwell Black, I will marry you and I don’t care how airtight that book you call a prenuptial agreement is, you’ll have a heck of a time getting rid of me.”
He didn’t argue with her. Maxwell didn’t want to dwell on invoking the clauses in the contract.
He took the ring from the box and put his hand out imperiously for hers. She gave it to him without hesitation, placing her left hand into his.
He slid the custom-designed engagement ring onto her finger and only then did she look down at it.
The ten-karat blue sapphire was the same shade as her eyes, the large diamonds on either side sparkling with Romi’s effervescence. Set in a vintage-style Russian gold filigree band, he was very pleased with the Tiffany master jeweler’s design.
“It’s beautiful,” she said in an emotion-laden voice.
“I had it designed for you.”
“You’re a planner.”
“I am.” No need to tell her the designers had been working on the ring since well before Jeremy Archer’s marriage contract offer for his daughter.
“It’s really big.”
“But it fits you.” And he didn’t mean the size. Naturally, he’d gotten that right.
She choked out a laugh. “It does. I should be a
ll about how ostentatious it is, but I love it.”
“It sparkles like you do.”
“Ooh, you really do say some of the cheesiest things and make them sound way too romantic.”
He shrugged. “It’s a gift.”
That had only manifested for this woman, but who was keeping track?
“Are you ready to go home?” he asked.
Romi’s face contorted with emotion. “Other than college dorms, I’ve never lived anywhere but here.”
“You like the penthouse.”
“I do.”
“But this is home.”
“Dad needed me for so long, I couldn’t think of living anywhere else.”
“Even so, you love this house, don’t you?”
Romi nodded but smiled as she stood, no reluctance evident in her manner. “I’m ready to go.”
They hadn’t finished dinner, but he didn’t think either of them was worried about that right now.
He wanted to go back to the penthouse and consummate Romi’s promise to be his and he was certain she wanted the same.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
KNOWING MAX WOULD want it as much as she did, Romi had packed for a much longer stay than overnight.
Triumph had flashed in his gaze when he’d seen her suitcases and matching carryall. He’d smiled, too. “Lime green with white polka dots?”
“I suppose your luggage is black.”
“No.” He winked. “It’s brown leather.”
She melted at the wink and poured herself into the passenger seat of his growling predator of a car.
He shocked her by insisting she unpack before doing anything else, but when her last pair of bright purple jeans was hanging in his walk-in closet, which was the size of a small bedroom—and empty on one side for her—he carried her off to bed and they made love.
She’d thought maybe the night before had been so beyond the known universe because it was her first time, but she’d soon discovered it was just being with this man.
He rocked her world and by every indication she did the same for him.
* * *
Maddie returned from her honeymoon in high spirits and ready to find a building for the charter school. She and Romi spent hours trailing after Viktor’s incredibly competent Realtor.
Not really sure why she did it, Romi hid her engagement ring in her purse whenever they were together. She didn’t tell her SBC that Romi’s father was in rehab and Romi herself was living with the man she intended to marry.
