“Yes. You know, you’re in a meeting, you’re on a phone call, you’re away on a business trip. You’re finalizing an important contract or you have a meeting with the governor.”
“I had a meeting with the governor?”
Her eyes laugh. “Yes. You’ve met the governor six times in the past year, at least as far as the women you’ve dated are concerned.”
I shake my head. “Making things up, Miss Myers.”
“You know, I’m surprised you didn’t ask one of them to marry you. You could have had a real marriage. A semi-real one, at least.”
I pull out the chair next to her. The motion puts our knees against one another beneath the table. “Why do you think I was dating so much?”
“Because you…” Her words run out, eyes widening. “That’s what you were doing the past six months.”
“Yes,” I admit, and wonder if I’m offending her.
She bursts out laughing. “Sorry. I just can’t imagine you going on dates with women, with the sole intention of… of…”
“Finding a wife,” I say. “To fulfill a clause in my grandfather’s will.”
“Yes. It’s so methodical. It’s very you.”
“Very me,” I repeat, my gaze dropping to her lips. They’re fuller than I’d noticed before, and when she worries the lower one between her teeth, small indents form. “You really do think you know me.”
The last traces of humor disappear from her voice. “I know some things. There are a lot of things I still wonder about.”
“I might not know your social security number, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know things about you, Cecilia Myers.”
Her breath hitches. “You don’t know much.”
The kitchen holds danger, and I should leave. I don’t. “I know you care deeply about your friends. So deeply you married me to help a friend’s dream come true. I know you have no siblings or family close by the city. I know you want to stand on your own legs and launch your business, but that you’re scared to, as well. I know you saw marrying me as an opportunity but also as an escape,” I say. “I know clothes are a shield for you. You dressed modestly and frumpy in the office because you wanted to be taken seriously.”
“I didn’t dress frumpy.”
My gaze travels down the neckline of her wrap dress. “You didn’t dress like this.”
She exhales softly. “No. Not in the office.”
“I understand why.” I wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on work if she did. “To the best of my knowledge, you didn’t really need this marriage or the money it provided. You wanted it. You wanted the opportunity, you’re ambitious, you’re determined. Which also means somewhere inside, even if you don’t admit it to yourself, you didn’t want to get rid of me that badly.”
Her voice is low. “I wanted to do something wild.”
It would be easy to lose myself in her gaze. The pull is there, telling me to stay, to drown. Victory pounds at my temples and sudden desire burns in my stomach. I could reach out, now. I could kiss her.
Cecilia swallows, her hand tightening around her glass. “You don’t think badly of me for marrying you?”
What?
“No. Why would I?”
“Because I’m compensated for it.”
“It’s a business deal,” I say. The words fortify my resolve, steady the pounding of need through my veins. “We both gain from it. If anything, I think well of you for it. You helped me.” Business is what I understand the best, removing any vagueness or emotion. It’s territory I understand. I stand. “Goodnight, Cecilia.”
She watches me with dark eyes. “Goodnight, Victor. Thank you for tonight.”
When I fall into bed this time, sleep welcomes me immediately, and I don’t dream at all.
12