Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
“She’ll be fine,” Elena says in a low tone when she comes back. I stand with her over near the stove while the father pretends like he went deaf. “Just getting cold feet, that’s all. It’ll be fine.”
But it won’t be fine, not if Emily decides she wants out. The prenup means nothing without the marriage paperwork, and there’s still time for my jumpy fiancée to sprint out the front door and leap inside the first taxi she can find.
I’m not leaving anything to chance. I brush past Elena, mumbling about needing a second, and storm back to the bathroom. I knock once, and when I hear nothing, I use the key I keep on top of the frame to pop the knob open.
Emily’s sitting on top of the toilet lid, her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands.
I take her in, saying nothing. She’s not crying, just sitting there, not moving, and she doesn’t seem surprised that I burst in on her. She’s probably getting used to that already.
“Don’t back out,” I say, and when she still doesn’t move, I slowly kneel down in front of her. I put my hands on her elbows and gently start to lift her. “Emily. Don’t back out.”
“Tell me why I shouldn’t.” She slumps slightly but glares at me. Her eyes are red, but there aren’t any tears. “This is crazy. Your family owns a freaking city block and you didn’t mention it.”
“Forget about my family. Forget about everything but why you’re here to begin with. It’s for your father, right?” She nods, biting her lip. “You’ve worked ten times harder than anyone else ever would for their parent. You’ve already sacrificed more than I can imagine to help him. Now let me take care of you both. Marry me, Emily. Be my wife. Do this with me, and let me take on some of the burden.” I lean closer, taking her hands in mine and holding them tight. “I need you.”
She looks back at me, tongue running across her lips, and she shakes her head. “Why me?” she asks. “Because I need something from you?”
“Yes. And no.” But I don’t know why it has to be her anymore, and I wish I could explain it, but now that I’ve kissed her and brought her into my home, I don’t want to marry someone else. I don’t want to find another random woman, some gold digger only in this for her own selfish reasons.
I want Emily. I want a girl who gives a damn.
I want her.
“That’s not a very clear answer.” She smiles slightly.
“Can I admit something to you?” I lean closer, pitching my voice lower. “I’m also a little nervous.”
Her eyes brighten. “Simon. Are you human?”
“Don’t get the wrong idea, baby. I’m mostly nervous you’re going to run screaming out of here and fuck this all up.”
She sighs and rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling a little bit now. I stand and guide her up with me. She’s so fucking small, and I could wrap my arms around her and lift her into the air if I wanted. I could pull her to my chest and kiss her.
“How bad could it be?” she asks, and she’s still holding my hands. She hasn’t let them go. If anything, she’s squeezing harder.
“That’s what every little boy dreams of hearing his wife say on their wedding day.”
Another smile, and this time a laugh. “I can do this. I can sign.”
“Good girl.” I brush a hair back from her face and feel a jolt in my stomach, the same sort of flip I felt when I kissed her yesterday, and I stay there inches from her wondering if I’m going to press my lips to hers for the second time, and she’s staring back like she might let me, but I hear Father O’Shea laugh in the other room and that breaks the spell.
I lead Emily back to the kitchen, and it’s all business. I keep the father on track, and the marriage is official ten minutes later. Elena cracks open champagne, and O’Shea gets the hell out of there as she pours three glasses.
“To a long, happy life,” Elena says.
“To my wife,” I say, and we all touch glasses to that.
Chapter 13
Emily
I’m married.
I should feel something. Happiness, horror, joy, sadness, anything.
Instead, I’m sitting in a beautiful guest room on a big, comfortable bed in the house I’ll be living in for the next five years, and I’m numb.
Totally numb.
Because I’ve finally gone off the deep end.
This was too much. I was about to get the heck out of here when Simon came into the bathroom. Ten more seconds and I would’ve found the strength to shove open the door and announce that I could no longer become Mrs. Bianco.
Instead, it was the way he looked at me, the way he touched me, like for him this was more than a business deal.