Hopelessly Devoted(7)

That was the first night one of us slept in the spare bed.

The following morning Paul left for work before I woke up, and I didn’t see or hear from him all day. I was preparing dinner when he came home, and I placed the spoon down as he entered the kitchen. He looked annoyed, but less angry than he had last night.

“Hey there,” I said, keeping my tone neutral.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Paul said, appearing a little bummed out.

“Do what?” I tried not to smile. I had a feeling I had gotten my way.

“Dad wants to offer you a job. Said you have more sense than I do.”

“Well, in some cases that’s true.”

“Not funny. Here,” Paul said as he threw a manila folder on the counter. “You will sign it and we are not arguing about it anymore. I’m going for a shower.”

Paul stalked off down the hall as I read through the pre-nup. It stated that on the dissolution of the marriage I would get an initial payout equivalent to a named sum multiplied by the number of years of marriage. I would also receive an allowance for the ten years after the divorce. It wasn’t anywhere near what I could claim without the agreement being in place, and it would allow me to live comfortably, but not retire. It was acceptable, despite my reluctance to take anything. I signed the document and placed it back in the folder.

When Paul returned, dressed in sweatpants and nothing else, I was just about to dish up dinner. He looked at the folder and frowned. “Did you even look at it?”

“Uh-huh. I’ve signed it already. Sit down, dinner’s ready.”

“Is that it? Don’t you have anything else to say?’

“No, you said we’re not arguing about it anymore, and I think you’ve had a hard enough day as it is. Here, eat.” I pushed the plate of stir-fry toward him.

Paul’s shoulders slumped as he sat at the counter. “The old man ambushed me. When I entered his office, he had three lawyers there with him. The papers were already drawn up, awaiting my signature. I didn’t have a choice, but I argued with him anyway. He said it’s entirely possible that I love you too much to see clearly, that I needed to take the emotion out of it and do what was best for the company. He hopes you’re not offended.”

“Pfft, of course not. I would have preferred to walk away with nothing, but what’s being offered is reasonable, I guess. I don’t want to argue anymore either.”

“Nor do I, but I wouldn’t have you not looked after.”

“Even if I have an affair?”

“The pre-nup becomes moot then anyway. Because I’d kill you.”

“Fair call.”





CHAPTER FOUR




AFTER SOPHIA finished calming my nerves, fixing my hair—I’d given in and gone to Pierre last week—and helping me look respectable enough to walk down the aisle next to her brother, she gave me a kiss on the cheek.

“Remember,” she said, grabbing my hands in her dainty ones, “you have five minutes. Breathe deeply and think of the honeymoon.” Her eyes twinkled. “When you hear the music, open the door, and Paul will be waiting for you. And stop fussing with your tie.” With another kiss on the cheek and a squeeze of my hands, she swept out of the room in a swish of silk to take her place at the front of the crowd.

Thinking of the honeymoon wasn’t the best idea. I didn’t want to face the hundreds of guests out there with a boner, and thinking of the reception was hell on my nerves. I thought of my parents, but that made me depressed. At least it killed my erection.

The next thing I knew, the music playing softly just outside my door grew louder. I peered out the window again and saw the guests, dressed in their stylish finery, stand and look toward the entrance. Their voices quieted as they awaited our arrival.

I squared my shoulders, took a deep, unfulfilling breath, and opened the door.

Paul stood waiting for me, as promised, dressed in a gorgeous tuxedo that hugged his hips and shoulders perfectly. When our eyes met, his smile took my breath away. He held out his hand for me to take.

“Breathe, babe.” He chuckled.

“Easy for you to say, you’ve probably been breathing the whole time.”

We stood facing each other, and Paul took my sweaty hands in his clean, dry ones. His eyes glistened with moisture.

“Do you love me?” I nodded. My ability to form words had left the building with Elvis. “Do you want to marry me?” I nodded more vigorously then. “Good. I promise to hold your hand the entire time. Just try and visualize everyone naked.”

“Even the women?” Yuck.

“Yes, even them.” Damn.

“What about the mayor? If I think about what he looks like under those hideous suits it’s going to kill any prospect of consummating our vows later.”

Paul frowned. “Just the women then.”

“Fine, if I must.”

“Ready?”

“No.”

Paul leaned in and kissed me, long and slow, until my knees buckled. I would’ve followed him into the center of the earth and down the stairs to meet the devil himself. On the face of it, walking down an aisle with him holding my hand the entire way—which in reality wasn’t that long, it just felt like miles—didn’t seem so bad.