Page 21 of Not His Bride

He’s taking responsibility. He could have blamed me, or my family, but he didn’t.

It doesn’t undo the humiliation, but at least he isn’t letting his PR team make me responsible for it.

I close the article and go back to my notes.

Chapter 9

Gallagher

It’s been eleven days since I married Lilith, and this is the first time I’m going to see her since she walked out of our reception.

I waited longer than I liked before contacting her. Yesterday, I finally sent one message, asking if she would meet with me somewhere neutral so we could talk about what happens next in our marriage. She agreed and sent me the name of a lounge and a time.

The café is empty, save for one server at the espresso machine, who’s already signed an NDA. The table is walnut, which matches the paneling on the walls and the built-in shelves behind the low bar. The only sound is the occasional hiss from behind the bar and the low static of early-morning jazz. It’s early enough that most of the tables still sit in shadow, as the bar doesn’t open until one in the afternoon. I’m smack dab in the middle of the café. I’m not worried about privacy since I had my people temporarily close the place so Lilith and I can talk.

While waiting, I tap my cufflink against the table. The metallic edge leaves a faint mark on the wood.

Lilith Jovi appears all at once, a designer tote dangling from one hand. She’s wearing her iconic black choker with a black cashmere cardigan over a long gray tank that sets off her skin.

She. Is. Magnificent.

My magnificent wife crosses to the center table. After sitting across from me, she folds her hands on the table.

I’ve had eleven days to figure out what I wanted to say when she finally sat across from me again. Now that she’s here, most of what I rehearsed feels useless.

She needs to hear that I was wrong—about Debbie, about her, and about the kind of wife I thought I needed. For years, I pictured someone polished in photographs and ruthless enough to keep up with me in business. Then, after less than an hour alone with Lilith, I realized I’d been looking for the wrong things.

She corrected me without hesitation. Carried a Phantom mask in her purse. Made me laugh without trying. Couldn’t care less about half the things everyone around me treats like life or death.

And now she’s sitting across from me because I asked for one conversation, and all I can think is, Please, give me another chance.

Not because I deserve one.

Because I want her badly enough to ask, anyway.

I clear my throat, and the words collapse as soon as I open my mouth. “I was stupid. You deserved better. I-I—”

I have to look away, or I’ll lose it completely. I try the line again, this time as steady as I can muster. “I could tell you that I regret what I said, or the way things played out, but it would be bullshit. At the time that the video was filmed, I had meant every word.”

Lilith’s eyes are dull, seeming to peer right through me.

Forcing myself to continue, I say, “I know I can’t talk my way out of it. I thought I understood what I was signing up for, but I didn’t. I had the wrong idea, the wrong person in my head. I never got to know the actual you. My sole focus was lust and building a better empire than my competitors.”

She hasn’t moved since she sat down. Her breathing is calm, but I watch her chest rise and fall.

“I’m not expecting a second chance. But if you’d give me one chance to start getting to know you, I want that.” As if I’m entitled to anything from her in this situation. I know I’m not, but I’ve always been a selfish asshole.

“Why?”

“Because I think I was looking for you before I even knew you existed.”

That gets something from her. Barely. Her brows pull together.

“I know how that sounds.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah.” I drag a hand over my jaw. “Like bullshit from a man who asked your father for your sister a month before marrying you.”