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My guts tie themselves up in knots, and my heart pounds in my chest. It’s not comfortable. The kind of feeling I got the first time I went white-water rafting. A combination of nervousness and excitement as I faced my first rapids. A sensation that had since ebbed. One I’d been chasing ever since, pushing myself to take on extreme sports. One I hadn’t thought I’d find in the office of a wedding planner.
My feet thud on the wooden floor, and I get a good look at the space which is one-fourth the size of my own office. In the far corner is a bookcase packed with books. On the opposite side is a comfortable settee packed with cushions women seem to like so much. There’s a colorful patchwork quilt thrown over it, and behind that, a window that looks onto the back of the adjacent office building. On the coffee table in front of the settee is a bowl with crystal-like objects that reflect the light from the floor lamps. There are paintings on the wall that depict scenes from beaches. No doubt, the kind she’d point to and sell the idea of a honeymoon to gullible brides. I suppose the entire space would appeal to women. With its mood lighting and homey feel, the space invites you to kick back, relax and pour out your problems. A ruse I’m not going to fall for.
"You!" I stab my finger in the direction of the woman seated behind the antique desk straight ahead. "Call Lila, right now, and tell her she needs to go through with the wedding. Tell her she can’t back out. Tell her I‘m the right choice for her."
She peers up at me from behind large, black horn-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. "No."
I blink. "Excuse me?"
She leans back in her chair. "I’m not going to do that."
"Why the hell not?"
"Are you the right choice for her?
"Of course, I am." I glare at her.
Some of the color fades from her cheeks. She taps her pen on the table, then juts out her chin. "What makes you think you’re the right choice of husband for her?"
"What makes you think I’m not."
"Do you love her?"
"That’s no one’s problem except mine and hers."
"You don’t love her."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Excuse me?" She pushes the glasses further up her nose. "Are you seriously asking what loving the woman you’re going to marry has to do with actually marrying her?" Her voice pulses with fury.
"Yes, exactly. Why don’t you explain it to me?" The sarcasm in my tone is impossible to miss.
She stares at me from behind those large glasses that should make her look owlish and studious, but only add an edge of what I can only describe as quirky-sexiness. The few times I’ve met her before, she’s gotten on my nerves so much, I couldn’t wait to get the hell away from her. Now, giving her the full benefit of my attention, I realize, she’s actually quite striking. And the addition of those spectacles? Fuck me—I never thought I had a weakness for women wearing glasses. Maybe I was wrong. Or maybe it’s specifically this woman wearing glasses… Preferably only glasses and nothing else.
Hmm. Interesting.This reaction to her. It’s unwarranted and not something I planned for. I widen my stance, mainly to accommodate the thickness between my legs. An inconvenience… which perhaps I can use to my benefit? I drag my thumb under my lower lip.
Her gaze drops to my mouth, and if I’m not mistaken, her breath hitches.Very interesting.Has she always reacted to me like that in the past? Nope, I would’ve noticed. We’ve always tried to have as little as possible to do with each other. Like I said, interesting. And unusual.
"First," —she drums her fingers on the table— "are you going to answer my question?"
I tilt my head, the makings of an idea buzzing through my synapses. I need a little time to flesh things out though. It’s the only reason I deign to answer her question which, let’s face it, I have no obligation to respond to. But for the moment, it’s in my interest to humor her and buy myself a little time.
"Lila and I are well-matched in every way. We come from good families—"
"You mean rich families?"
"That, too. Our families move in the same circles."
"Don’t you mean boring country clubs?" she says in a voice that drips with distaste.
I frown. "Among other places. We have the pedigree, the bloodline, our backgrounds are congruent, and we’d be able to fold into an arrangement of coexistence with the least amount of disruption on either side."
"Sounds like you’re arranging a merger."
"A takeover, but what-fucking-ever." I raise a shoulder.
Her scowl deepens. "This is how you approached the upcoming wedding... And you wonder why Lila left you?"
