Rejected Three Times, I Married My Fiancé’s Godfather Uncle

Chapter 6

The private room fell abruptly silent. The smile on Luca's face slowly froze.

He pulled me out to the terrace. His first instinct was still to take off his coat and drape it over my shoulders, so thoughtful that it was almost mocking. "Elena, do we really have to talk about this today?"

I said, "If not today, then when?"

He said, "Didn't I promise to marry you?"

I said, "You always say 'later, later.' I want an answer now."

Luca rubbed his brow, his knuckles white with pressure. "The port project is up for a vote next week, the Russells haven't been locked down, and three factions in the family are at each other's throats. Do you have to push me at a time like this?"

I said, "I'm pushing you? Luca, Moretti can't hold on anymore, and neither can I."

He finally lost his temper. "Haven't I been helping you all along? I've given you money, lawyers, connections; I've given you everything I have. Marriage isn't something you use to clear a debt."

"When did I ever say it was about the debt? I want to marry you, not because of the debt!" A lump rose in my throat, but my eyes stayed dry. "I've been with you for six years, and I've asked you three times. Every time, there was a project, the family, your position, your future; they always came before me."

His eyes reddened too. "I love you, so I want to wait until everything is in place before I marry you. Do you want me to swallow my pride and go to my uncle right now and let everyone think I'm being led around by the nose by a woman?"

Those words, "being led around by the nose by a woman," were like a blunt knife slowly scraping against bone. I suddenly didn't want to argue anymore. He probably realized he'd spoken too harshly and reached out to pull me in. I stepped back. His hand froze in midair.

He said, "Elena."

"Forget it." I folded the coat and placed it on the back of the chair. "I won't push you anymore."

He was clearly panicking. "Where are you going?"

I said, "Home."

He said, "I'll take you."

I said, "No need."

I turned and walked away. He took two steps after me, then someone in the private room called out to him, saying the Russell representative had just arrived. Luca's footsteps halted. That pause lasted all of two seconds. Before the elevator doors closed, I looked back. He had already turned and walked back.

In the underground parking garage, I dialed Damian's number. It rang only once.

He answered, "Where are you?"

I said, "Turn around."

I turned around. A black Bentley sat in the darkest corner, like a bird of prey that had been crouching there in wait.

The window rolled down. Damian sat in the back seat and glanced at me. He didn't ask how it went. He simply handed over a signed document. "Moretti's three ships are cleared to sail tonight."

I was stunned. "I haven't agreed to your terms yet."

He replied, "I know."

I asked, "Then why did you sign it first?"

He said, "Your father has a federal hearing tomorrow, and the crew needs money for food today. These things can't wait for you to figure out whether or not you want to get married."

My chest tightened sharply. I remembered what Luca had said, "Wait until I've sorted everything out," and realized the only real difference between them was that one talked, the other acted.

I hated Damian even more. I hated the calm, calculated way he laid out before me, piece by piece, everything I'd refused to see over the past six years.

I said, "Don't expect me to thank you for this."

He said, "No need to thank me."

He gripped my waist and pulled me onto his lap. My entire body tensed. Unlike the first time, he didn't immediately try to kiss me; his palm merely settled against the small of my back, the heat of it pressing through my dress, burning like a branding iron.

"I only want an answer." He set the prenup in my lap. "Are you going to marry me?"

I stared at those pages, my fingertips trembling. I said, "...I won't."

He looked at me for a long time. Then he suddenly leaned down, his lips pressing against the side of my ear, his breath ghosting over my skin.

He murmured, "Then let's change the terms."

His hand trailed down along the curve of my waist, stopping at the edge of my hip, his thumb slowly circling over the thin silk.

He added in a low voice, "Spend one night with me. Before eight o'clock tomorrow morning, every frozen Moretti account will be released."