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“I wanted to say I appreciate you opening your home to me, and while at first I thought I’d only be staying a few days, I was wondering if you would be okay with me extending my time here.”
I give him the opportunity to ask for my reasons, but he doesn’t, so I give them anyway.
“I’m an artist, as you might have guessed by now, and you have a painting—”
“A Banquet Still Life,” he supplies.
“Yes,” I say, suddenly filled with enthusiasm at the chance to discuss it with him. I lean forward. “I saw it on Christie’s website earlier this year. How did you acquire it?”
He catches the emphasis I placed on “you” and his eyes narrow.
“I purchased it,” he says simply.
I immediately backtrack, aware that I might have treaded on his ego. “Right. Well…it’s caught my attention, for obvious reasons, and I plan on doing a collection based off of the painting, which means, ideally, I’d have access to it on a regular basis.”
“I’ve already said you’re welcome to stay here,” he says, as if annoyed with me for droning on.
“And while I appreciate that, I think it’s important that I not take advantage of the situation. You’ll find a check there on the tray”—I point to where it’s folded in the corner—“that should cover a few weeks’ worth of rent as well as a portion of the rug I damaged.”
He uses one hand to pick up the check and unfold it. Then he drops it with disinterest on his desk before returning to his breakfast.
“Is that all?”
Boy is he a tough nut to crack.
Maybe before, I would have been too shy to bring up the next topic, but it seems like I can’t fall any further from his good graces, so I might as well trudge on.
“No, there’s one more thing. I read through the last few pages of the legal documents your lawyer sent over, and most everything is fine—”
“Good.”
“But, there weren’t any details in regards to how I should act as your wife.”
I watch him swallow his bite then carefully drop his fork onto the silver tray. His brown eyes catch mine, and it’s like a jolt of adrenaline.
“I’m just not sure what you expect from me,” I continue.
“In what respect?”
I chew on my bottom lip for a moment, trying to come up with a delicate way to say what I’m about to say.
“I know this marriage is just business, like you said before.” He opens his mouth, and I hurry to cut him off before he can speak and effectively stab me in the heart with some cruelly indifferent response. “I’m not under some delusion that you have feelings for me or anything.” I feel my cheeks flaming red and I hurry on, nearly tripping over my words in my rush to get them all out quickly. “It’s just that when I arrived here at your building, Rebecca and Terrell called me Mrs. Jennings, and well, I didn’t tell them that was my name, so I thought maybe you had? I’d sort of assumed we wouldn’t be telling anyone about our relationship, and I don’t want you thinking I spilled the beans.”
“I had Mason inform them that you would be moving in. He must have taken the liberty of telling them your identity. Now that the cat’s out of the bag, I do think it’s for the best. I’ve been thinking on it for the last few days, and having a wife serves quite a few purposes for me.”
“How so?”
“Well, for one, I have a reputation around New York for being a little…” He glances down and clears his throat. “Icy.” His brown eyes catch mine again, his moment of vulnerability already gone. “I think a wife would soften that image.”
I smile despite myself, happy to find that Walt does have real human emotions buried under his robot exterior. He doesn’t like the reputation he has. He doesn’t like being called icy. Interesting.
“On top of that, I’ve never been someone who’s particularly interested in marriage, and that’s caused a few misunderstandings in past relationships. At least now, there can be no confusion going forward since I’ll legally be off the market.”
“So then you plan on dating still?”
I sound as if the notion shocks me.
His brows furrow. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Yes, Elizabeth—why wouldn’t he?!
I force out a laugh and shake my head. “No, it’s just…I wasn’t sure. Now that I think about it, of course you’d continue dating. I wasn’t insinuating that you wouldn’t. Only…I…” I’m fumbling here, grasping at straws as he watches carefully. “I just assumed you didn’t have time with how much you work.”
He chuckles under his breath. “I have no issue finding the time, I assure you.”
Whoa.
Hello butterflies in my stomach. Settle down, please. He was talking about finding the time to romance other women, not me. Why would he find time for me?!
