“No, tell me.” I placed my phone on the nightstand, replacing it with my own glass.
He smiled, then sipped his wine and looked into my eyes again. “Well, I was just thinking . . . if you move in with me you wouldn’t have to worry about bills or finding a job.”
“Oh.” My eyebrows shifted up and all I could do was blink at him.
He sipped his wine. “That’s why I didn’t want to mention it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Because of that exact reaction. It’s outrageous, is what you’re thinking, right? We’ve only been together for a month and a couple weeks.”
“No—I’m not thinking it’s outrageous.” And I really wasn’t. I took a look around his bedroom, the floor-to-ceiling windows, the polished hardwood floors, and the little things that made this place his, like the watches on the dressers and the self-healing books on the nightstands.
I ran a hand over the fluffy gray comforter on the bed I sat on. Truth was I could really see myself living in luxury with him. Being with him, in our own private world, sharing morning coffees together and dinners at night.
“I have some upcoming trips and events that I’ve been invited to, but I can stick around in Miami when I’m not traveling so you aren’t alone. Do you think that’s crazy?” he asked.
“No,” I responded quickly, smiling. “No. I don’t think it’s crazy at all. I could stay here a while—at least until I get a job and find my own place.”
He took my wineglass from me, placing both of the glasses on the nightstand and then turning to me, maneuvering between my legs.
“While you’re with me, Samira,” he murmured on my lips, “you won’t have to worry about any of that.” He kissed me once. Twice. “I’ve got you.” Another kiss. “You won’t ever have to worry about another bill or place to live so long as you have me in your life.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Here’s the thing about me—I have a bad habit of not thinking things through. I can be both impulsive and impatient and I get overly excited about the smallest things, so imagine what it’s like when a big event or opportunity turns up in my life.
Because of this little personality quirk of mine, I don’t always make the best decisions. Therefore, when Roland asked me to marry him five months after moving in with him, I said yes.
Seriously. I wasn’t thinking. He and I were traveling together, and I was attending events as his plus-one. Despite the negativity he’d received due to his previous wife’s death, it was hard for many to lose respect for Roland, and he was still a man in demand. Prior to losing her, he’d created his own children’s charity, donated to good causes abundantly, and hung out with very famous people. Not to mention, he was worth a lot of money and, according to Roland, it didn’t matter what a person did wrong, money still talked and he had a lot of it. We were living a dream, so by the time I had room to think, it was already too late.
Things moved fast the night he asked. We ordered takeout from a local Chinese spot. When we were walking to his car, he came around to my side and dropped to one knee. It was so unexpected, and yet, I said yes. After I did and we’d had several drinks back at the condo, he told me about a mansion he owned in Colorado.
“You know, we don’t have to stay here in Miami,” he said, placing his chopsticks down.
“What do you mean?”
“I own a mansion just outside of Sageburg. There are less eyes there. It’s mostly populated with nice, elderly people. It’s a quiet place, everyone minds their own business.”
“That sounds nice.”
“I’d like us to get married there.”
I straightened my back. “In Colorado?”
“At the mansion.” He smiled. “We’d have more privacy there. I can call in a local priest. You can buy a nice dress. We can keep it small, simple. Just us.”
I couldn’t help but look away when he said that. I immediately thought of Kell and what he would think if I ran off to another state that was hours away with a man who he thought was a wife-killer. I’d still been meeting him for lunches every other week, purposely avoiding the topic of boyfriends and relationships. Kell still paid for lunches, but lunch wasn’t the same. He seemed so stressed and uptight now, and I was sure it was because of his pregnant fiancée or his exhausting, fast-paced career.
“But I understand if you don’t want to,” Roland said abruptly. “I don’t want to whisk you off if you’re not ready. We can stay here too.”
“Roland, stop.” I grabbed his hand across the dinner table and squeezed it tight. “I paused because I thought of my brother. There isn’t much in Miami for me. Only my brother and my best friend, Shelia, and I can always come back to visit them whenever I want.”