11

Chloe

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It’s ten minutes until ten on Monday, and I’m doing my best not to fidget. I’ve been here for almost an hour. The contractor, Ray, got here five minutes ago and has been doing his best to get on my last damn nerve since he walked through the door. I check my watch for what has to be the twentieth time.

“So, you want my sister’s number?” Ray asks intently.

“What?” Gay, he thinks I’m gay? Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I shake my head, trying to clear it. “I’m not gay. What made you think that?”

His eyes shift away, he shrugs as he mumbles and takes a step back. I think I catch the word “suit.” I look down at my clothes. It took an hour to pick this out. I’m in an Armani tailored suit in matte black teamed with a white button-down blouse. Okay, it’s a little severe, and maybe it would help if my hair was down and not in a slicked-back tight bun low at my nape, but how does it make me gay?

I’m relieved by the sound of the front door opening. I check my watch; it’s ten on the dot. The sound of Enzo’s voice skims right up my spine, I have not missed the bastard. Then he’s there filling the doorway and fuck, I have missed him.

His eyes find mine. Instantly they flare hot, bright, and steal the air out of my lungs. He blinks and turns away and I’m cold, empty. I want to scream at him for what he’s doing to me. The high-pitched giggle catches my attention, and it’s only now I see the tiny blonde at his side in sky-high stilettos. Introductions are made all around, and I struggle not to break the tiny hand of Jill Franklin. It doesn’t help when she giggles again; at what, I have no idea.

The next hour and a half is excruciating, not just because of the endless giggling, but because Enzo barely looks my way even as he drags me into the conversation, referring to my previous thoughts on how to redo the kitchen. Jill giggles as she tells me my thoughts are cute but won’t work without explaining why they won’t. Turning away, frustrated, I find myself in the odd little nook off the kitchen trying to get my temper under control, wishing I could hide in a restroom and splash some water on my hot face.

“Why don’t we use this space for a half bath? There’s no bathroom on this floor, visitors will have to go upstairs or downstairs. Enzo, what do you think?”

For the first time since he walked through the door I have his whole attention. He walks toward me, studying the space, the wall of windows and the oddly configured small seating area. “How the hell did I miss not having a bathroom on the first floor? This makes perfect sense. Ray, how hard would it be?”

Ray’s been scribbling the whole meeting, not missing a figure or measurement. He pulls out his tape measure and runs it from the center of the room toward the wall where the sink is. “We’ll have to reroute the plumbing over here so it will cost you a couple grand easy, but if we did it then we could give you the dishwasher in the island or even another sink. Considering this would be a bathroom, we’d want to bring the windows up to about here. We could leave them in place and do black glass or even colored glass to match the color of the brick. The main question is about whether or not to leave this storage here. We have all the room we need to drywall over this, but if you took this out you could make this a full bathroom with a basic bath surround.”

Enzo frowns as he looks to me. “A full bath right off the kitchen. I don’t think we need a full bath down here, do we?”

I shake my head. “The powder room is enough. There are six other full bathrooms in the house as things stand. I think you can have too many full baths.”

“A half bath it is. The angles aren’t great in this corner, make it as even as you can get it. While we’re talking about this corner, I hate the damn ceiling and that light.” Enzo moves away with Ray to discuss ways of changing the light fixture going down a hallway.

I almost jump when I realize Jill is only feet away from me, staring at me. “Your desperation is truly pathetic. You are punching way out of your weight class, sweetheart. Quit while you’re ahead before you embarrass yourself.”

The words are a hiss, barely audible to my ears, so Enzo and Ray couldn’t possibly have heard them as they are on the other side of the room going over how many men Ray thinks he needs over how many Enzo thinks are needed. Yet as my stomach dips at her ugly words, Enzo’s head comes up and his eyes find me. Without a word to Ray he’s in front of me within seconds.

“Are you okay?”

What the fuck? How can he be such a fucker, then act like he cares about me? I shake my head. “I need to get going. It’s almost noon, I have a lunch appointment with a client. I didn’t think we’d go this long.”

It’s clear he doesn’t believe me, but nods. “Go on, I’ll finish here.”

Jill bats her lashes, then she puts her hand on his arm to get his attention. “Enzo, I’m not going anywhere. I’m so excited about working with you on this project.”

Anger goes through me so hot, so shocking it scares me a little. Enzo shrugs off her hand, then steps back. “If you’ll excuse me, Jill. I need to see Chloe out.”

A hand wraps around my arm as he drags me after him. “What the hell is going on with you?” he thunders once we’re out on the front lawn.

“Don’t yell at me, damn it! Are you fucking serious? You tell my boss a personal plan in a light meant to shame and embarrass me over brunch, you belittle me, you ignore me, then you want to know what is going on with me?”

Shaking his head, he takes a deep breath. “Don’t forget I let the tiny blonde close to me.”

Violence erupts from me and I shove him, hard. “She fucking touched you like she had every right to.” Oh god, I didn’t do that.

The bastard laughs as he tugs me close. I’m so ashamed I can’t look at him even though I want to push him away from me, pissed that he’s daring to laugh. “Fuck, woman, you are driving me crazy. Why can’t you be normal?”

With a sigh I give in to resting my head on his chest. All at once, the anger and pain disappears as I inhale his scent, feel his body against mine. “I’m not going to apologize. Normal is boring. If I were normal you wouldn’t look at me twice, you would have already moved on to your next bimbo.”

“Hmm...” His hand runs up and down my back soothingly. “I won’t lie, you’re right. Bimbos are boring, you could never be called boring. So I’ve been thinking...” He pulls out something shiny from his pocket. No, it can’t be. Holy fuck, it is. “I have another deal to offer you. Marry me and we’ll fill this place with laughter and memories. Help me turn it from a house into a home. I want at least two kids, any more is up to you, and in return I’ll buy you the multifamily property you want, and this place is yours free and clear as long as we hit ten years. We give it at least ten years and you’ll think you’ve won the lottery. If you want out any sooner, I’ll make you regret ever meeting me.”

I stumble back from him on shaky legs, staring at the enormous ring in horror. “What kind of marriage proposal was that? It was a marriage proposal, right?” How could he say such awful things at the same time as asking me to marry him? “Have you lost your mind?”

At least he has the decency to blush. “What? It’s an honest deal between two people, a hell of a lot more honest than ninety percent of the proposals happening any given day. I get it, you have a hard time trusting men are going to stick around, treat you well, and be faithful. The ring gives you the first one, and I don’t have a problem with either the second or third thing. I bought this house for you, you can make it anything you want. If we divorce you’ll get it in the settlement on top of the multifamily and more than generous alimony, as long as I get custody of the kids.”

This is a dream, a nightmare, a crazy Klonopin-induced nightmare because who the hell would believe this is real? I’m shaking my head, trying to clear it, trying to figure out what is happening. The ring is thrust in my face again. It’s enormous, an odd pinkish peach color. “What is it?”

“It’s a padparadscha, a kind of sapphire. Normally, I wouldn’t have gotten something so big at twenty-eight carats, but the only other one they had was only four carats and that didn’t seem right at all. A diamond didn’t seem unique enough for you. I’m also willing to admit I didn’t want any man thinking you were available.” He shrugs.

And it’s the sweetest thing I think he’s ever said. How could he say that while also saying all the other crap? “We’ve known each other a week, less than a week. I can’t marry you, it’s crazy.”

“How is it crazy? We both know what we want, we both want the same thing, and we both want each other. When something’s right, it’s right. When you know, you know. What difference does it make from one week to one year?”

“Because, I don’t know how you like your coffee. I don’t know your favorite food, color, or book. I don’t know if you sleep naked or in pajamas. I don’t know anything about you other than you have way too much money, an enormous ego, and okay, yes, I want to have sex with you, but that doesn’t make a marriage, not even one for just ten years.”

“We couldn’t make a marriage without the sex.”

“I don’t want to breastfeed. I’ll do everything I can to make sure I have a C-section up to and including bribing my doctor. Even if I didn’t have to work, I want to after my maternity leave is over. I want six kids, not two, not four, six. I want private school but not religious schools. I don’t want to take my kids to church on Sundays, I want them to choose what they believe in. I don’t want to do the Santa myth thing or the tooth fairy. I want my kids to know they’re important, but I refuse to let them believe the world revolves around them. Those are important, those things could break up a marriage. Those are the things you learn over the course of dating and having an actual relationship instead of just jumping into a marriage.”

“So you’re saying, no?”

Oh god, he actually looks sad, then he blinks and it’s gone. Deep down I want to scream yes, fuck caution, fuck that it’s too soon, he wants me, bought a house for me, he bought a ring, except he’s saying things like ten years and threatening me with horrors unknown if I dare to want a divorce before ten years. Fear outweighs everything. “I’m saying, not yet.” 

“I should have known.” He flicks the ring at me. I can’t catch it, it falls at my feet. “Keep it, I sure as fuck don’t want it. Use it to go toward your sperm donor.” I can’t believe he’s just walking away.

I’m frozen where I stand. It was real. Enzo Sabatini just asked me to marry him. No, he offered me a deal, a bargain, one with a whole lot of strings he would use to tie me up. The insane ring glints up at me. I bend down; it’s heavy. Don’t do it, Chloe. A sick curiosity has me slipping it on my left ring finger. My stomach flips a dozen times—it fits perfectly.

In the moment I was positive I did the right thing, but now...I’m not sure anymore.