15
914 Words
“Yes. And if you call me darling one more time, you can say goodbye to your two front teeth.”
Amused by my attitude, he breaks into a smile so dazzling, I nearly suffer a heart attack on the spot. I stare at him breathlessly, my pulse pounding, at a loss for words.
“What would you like me to call you?”
“My first name will do just fine, thanks.” I can’t remember it at the moment, but hopefully, he does.
“How about…” He pauses to moisten his lips. His voice drops an octave. “Baby?”
When I only stare at him in disbelief, he chuckles.
“We can leave that for the wedding night.”
“I am not marrying you.”
“So you don’t want to save your business?”
I glare at him. Unflinchingly cool, he gazes right back at me.
“And you don’t care that all your employees will be left jobless? Or that you have no other work experience that might interest an employer? Or that your father’s dream of a generational family bookshop will go up in smoke?”
I demand, “What do you know about my father’s dreams?”
“There’s a whole page devoted to the subject on your company website.”
That deflates me. “Oh. Right.”
He examines me for a moment, then says, “What are your primary concerns?”
“About what?”
“About marrying me.”
Fighting the urge to break out into hysterical laughter, I huff out a breath instead and say sarcastically, “I’ll mail you a list.”
“No, tell me right now.”
Groaning, I cover my face with my hands. “Can someone sane please tell me what’s going on?”
Callum pries my hands away from my face and holds my wrists firmly as he stares into my eyes.
With quiet intensity, he says, “It’s very simple. Listen carefully, because I don’t like to repeat myself. I need a wife. You need money. I’m offering you a business arrangement that will solve both our problems. Say yes and you’ll never want for anything again. You can open a chain of bookstores all over the country if you like. You can have whatever you desire, whatever you can imagine. The world will open up for you beyond your wildest dreams.”
I topple headfirst into the endless abyss of his dark, powerful eyes and float there for what seems like an eternity. Eventually, I manage to pull myself out of the depths and back to reality.
“Callum?”
He leans closer. His eyes start to burn. “Yes, Emery?”
“Let go of my wrists.”
For the longest moment, he remains still, staring at me with a crackling-hot concentration that sends a thrill through my blood.
Then something in his eyes changes. All his heat and intensity vanishes, as if a cage door has been slammed shut. He abruptly releases me and sits back.
Looking out the front windshield, he says stiffly, “I apologize. Sometimes my…”
In his unfinished sentence, a dangerous ocean of secrets churns. Resting on his thighs, his big hands curl to fists. He inhales a slow, controlled breath, closing his eyes and clenching his molars as he exhales.
It’s like watching a T-Rex trying to convince itself it’s vegan. I’ve never seen anything so unnerving in my life.
Time to run.
“I’m getting out of the car now and going back to my Uber. I’m just telling you that so you don’t order the cops to tackle me on the way. Okay?”
He looks at me. Pressing his lips together, he remains silent.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Bye now, Mr. McCord. Good luck finding your wife.”
I lean across his legs, grab the brown bag containing my chicken salad, climb out of the sedan, and head back to the Uber.
Callum’s gaze burns into my back every step of the way.
Seven
B
y the time the Uber drops me back at the store, the red marks around my wrists where Callum’s hands gripped me have faded.
My shock, however, has not.
The first thing I do is go inside and lock the door. Then I hustle to the back, collapse onto my desk chair, and call Dani.
“Tell me everything,” she demands. “And don’t leave anything out this time!”
“First let me get into this chicken salad. I didn’t have breakfast, and I’m about to pass out from hunger.”
“Chicken salad?”
“Callum boxed up the lunch I ordered but didn’t get to eat because I ran away. Oh good, there’s a plastic fork.”
As I pull the box and utensils out of the to-go bag, Dani mulls my words over in silence.
Then she says, “Let me get this straight. A gorgeous, single billionaire strolls into your failing business, proposes marriage and a one-time payment of ten million bucks to save said business, takes you to lunch, shows you the giant engagement ring that could be yours, calls for a police escort to pick you up after you ditched him at the restaurant…and also brings you the meal you left behind when you ran away.”
I speak around a mouthful of salad. “Why do you sound most impressed about the last part?”
- Writer
