Page 61 of Wicked Praise

She sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “If you have to ask that, then I was wrong about you.”

His heart clenched in his chest.

You weren’t wrong, sweetheart.

Blake ran his thumb over her cheek, wiping away her tears. “There is no universe where I want to see you crying, Bella.”

He’d never felt so conflicted in his life. She was a shareholder—hell, soon to be the major one—in the company that was destroying his life’s work.

His eyes roamed over her face, taking in the array of emotions and vulnerability. It must have taken a lot of courage to come here to ask him. Like him, she had obviously sensed something more than a one-night fling.

But marriage?

Jesus.

Bella was in a predicament. She had to marry, or she would forgo her rights to one of the biggest companies in the world. As a businessman, he understood that.

Thank God their family had never done anything similar. But it did explain why Knox had been introducing her to all the single men at the fundraiser.

Did Ward know about this?

Blake got the feeling he didn’t.

Christ, Bella was a beautiful and intelligent woman. Having to marry someone you didn’t love to get your family company back was a tough card to be played.

But he wasn’t the man.

For starters, he had a conflict of interest being the owner of InkWell.

“When is your birthday?” he asked.

“Three months.”

Jesus.

Blake should wish her well and say goodbye.

But he didn’t.

“I’m sorry for my reaction,” Blake apologized calmly as she hiccuped.

Man, rip my damn heart out.

“To be fair, we barely know one another, and I had just learned you own the company which could bankrupt mine. Then you announce you want me to marry you.”

“I know. It was a stupid idea,” she whispered, her eyes still on the floor.

“Let’s get some more wine and keep talking,” he offered, because...he had no fucking idea why.

“I just want to go,” Bella said.

His finger lifted her chin. “Not happening, sweetheart. Because as fucked up as this is, I’m not letting you walk out of here to marry someone else.”

Aren’t I?

What was he doing?

He saw the question in her eyes, but he didn’t have an answer. As the saying went, he was sure there would be some at the bottom of a bottle.

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