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“You could show her the contract. Might make it easier for her to understand.”
I laugh. “Yes. And then she’d lose her mind.”
“She wouldn’t approve?”
“Of me turning marriage into a business arrangement? No. I doubt she would. Although she’s… unconventional. She never chose marriage for herself, and I think she never really thought I would, either.”
Victor’s stopped eating, his gaze on mine. “Your mother never thought you would marry.”
I shrug. “She’d say she raised me better than that.”
His eyebrows rise. “Your mother sounds intriguing.”
“She is. She’s nothing like me, you know. She’ll decide she’s going to try fasting for a week, only to take a month-long culinary course the next. A husband would only have slowed her down, as she loves to say. ‘Men for a season, sometimes for a reason, but never a lifetime,’” I quote.
Victor snorts. “And your father?”
“Not in the picture. Mom changed the story a lot when I was growing up. One week she’d say he was a traveling musician, and the next he was fleeing from the mob. Now that I’m older, I think she might not be quite sure who he is.”
He shakes his head. “I did not expect this.”
That makes me smile. “No, I can see that. I probably strike you as someone with a very proper background.”
“Yes. Raised to be an assistant.”
“God, I hope no one is raised to be an assistant.”
He snorts, returning his gaze to his plate. “You hated it, then?”
“Hated what?”
“Your time working for me. You were counting down the days, Myers.”
“I’m back to Myers again,” I say. “That happens a lot when we talk about work.”
“Force of habit. And don’t deflect.”
“I’m not,” I say, though I am. The gnocchi is delicious, small pillows of heavenly goodness, and he eats them with methodical precision as he waits for my answer. “I didn’t hate it all the time. There were days when I loved it.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. I got to call a lot of powerful people on your behalf, not to mention say no to a bunch of Exciteur executives when they wanted your time.”
“Gatekeeper,” he says.
I nod. “You had the power, but I had access to the power.”
His lip curves. “Sounds like you liked that.”
“Sometimes, yes. Controlling your schedule and calendar, making sure everything was in order… I loved that part of it. I still love organizing. It’s my passion.”
He pushes his empty plate away. “So the part you didn’t love was me.”
“That’s not what I’m saying, really.”
Victor raises an eyebrow. “You told me, when I asked you to marry me, that you wanted to get away from me.”
I shift in my chair. “I remember.”
