Page 20 of Dark as Knight

“Oh my God!” I jump up from the bed, the vibrator flying across the room to God knows where. It’s still on, the gentle hum of the toy taunting me from somewhere in the room. I drop to my knees trying to find it but it’s no use. It must have rolled under my bed behind something. The knock sounds again and I scramble to my feet, throwing on a pair of sweats and an oversized t-shirt before sprinting down the hallway to my front door. My breathing is rapid, so I take in a few long, slow breaths that come out in shaky puffs. I open the door, hoping the huge grin on my face distracts from the state of the rest of me.

“Wasn’t sure you were going to answer.” Atlas smirks, his hands in the pockets of his dark-gray dress pants. He’s not wearing a tie today, just a simple white Oxford. His dirty-blond hair flops over his forehead and I want to reach out and run my fingers through it.

“Sorry, I was—in the shower!” I say the thought as if it just came to me because it did. “I was in the shower,” I repeat more calmly, “so I didn’t hear you. I just grabbed some clothes and threw them on.” I look down at my stained, ripped, and stretched out t-shirt that I kept from a previous boyfriend I think and baggy faded sweatpants. “Clearly not my best.” I laugh.

“Works for me.” His eyes settle on my chest, my nipples poking against the already thin fabric that I’m sure is partially see-through, a naughty grin on his face. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem… flustered.”

“Yeah, totally.” I absolutely hate trying to act nonchalant; I can never pull it off no matter how hard I try. My wet hair clings to my neck. “I just thought you said six so I was surprised to see you early is all.” I smile, closing the door behind him, now far too aware of my body being naked beneath these clothes.

“Sorry about that. I snuck out of work. Figured I’d get in early with you before heading to my next meeting.”

“Another meeting? This late?”

“Dinner meeting. Work never stops I’m afraid.”

“Glass of wine?” I ask, turning toward the kitchen to occupy myself.

“Please.”

I pour us both a glass and we sit at my small island.

“Our goal in the next sixty minutes is to come up with our dating story, how we met, when we knew, along with details about our backgrounds.”

“Okay.” I take a sip of my wine and think about how we really did meet. “Why not just start from the truth? You came into the coffee shop I worked at and over time we struck up a friendship, and then you asked for my number.”

“Oh, I asked, huh?” He arches a brow and it makes me laugh. “I guess we’re rewriting history here, I see.”

“You wanted it to be believable, didn’t you?” I tease him.

“You’ve got a lot of snark tonight, Miss Porter.” He reaches across the open cushion and pokes my ribs, making me jump. “Maybe you need a lesson in paying attention?”

“Fine.” I sit up and roll my eyes at his stern tone. “So for our first date we had dinner at your house and it was love at first sight. We were inseparable ever since, both of us just head over heels, so we decided why wait and go through all of the traditions of an engagement and wedding when we both can’t wait a second longer to belong to each other forever. So, we elope.”

He blinks several times. “You just came up with that right now?”

I shrug, taking a larger gulp of my wine this time. The truth is, I did come up with it just now out of desperation. The thought of sitting here with him for longer than a few minutes coming up with a beautiful love story that’s completely fake is a touch nauseating when you want it to be real.

“Well, it works so let’s stick with it. Now, as far as timeline. I mentioned that the contract stipulated we would be married within ten days of signing it; however, I’m willing to change that timeframe to a month.”

I let out a sigh of relief. That had been one thing about this that had me even more stressed out than I was. Trying to convince Matilda that I’m that in love and eloping in ten days was feeling impossible.

“Good, that was weighing on me a bit.”

“As for the wedding, if you’d like a ceremony perhaps just us on a beach or?—”

I shake my head. “Eloping at the courthouse is perfect.” He looks at me questioningly, probably surprised that I didn’t jump at the chance to have a gorgeous beach wedding in Aruba or something. But this isn’t a wedding I want to hold place in my memory. This is purely a wedding of convenience that will merely be a blip on my radar in the not-so-distant future. When I get married for real, for true love, it will be a gorgeous, but small ceremony on a beautiful cliff somewhere overlooking the ocean.

“Okay, easy enough. I’ll supply the rings. As for my background and family, I was born and raised into money and business, went to an Ivy League school for both graduate and undergraduate, played tennis, rowing, graduated with honors. Add in a touch of dysfunctional family and fucked-up values. Copy and paste background of any billionaire. It’s boring and all easily accessible on the internet. As for my family, I have none. I was an only child, born to an only child, and the other had a sister die in birth. Neither of my parents are alive; my father passed three years ago and my mother a decade previous.”

When he finishes talking, he takes a sip of wine, then looks at me as if to say, your turn. “Oh, okay. So, like you I also have no family—actually I do but I don’t know where they are. I was taken away from my parents in infancy, lived with a grandma for a bit, then ended up in foster care.” My eyes shift from his to my lap, and I start to pick at the fuzzies on my pants as I talk about my life. I feel ashamed, embarrassed of the fact that I was born into a terrible situation I had zero control over. “I, um, graduated high school and that’s it. I did zero sports or extra stuff. I basically did just enough to get a diploma so I could run away… which I did when I was a minor. Lied about my age to get jobs and stuff.” Maybe it’s the wine or maybe it’s the complete exhaustion from the emotions pumping through my body twenty-four seven these days but I can’t hold back. A single giant tear drops from my eye to my lap where it lands on the back of my hand.

“Hey.” Atlas reaches his hand out, wiping the tear from the back of mine before taking it in his. “Look at me.”

I lift my chin, smiling. “Sorry.” I roll my eyes at myself. “Must be my period.”

“Don’t do that, Stella. Don’t take on a burden that isn’t yours.” He reaches his other hand out, cupping my chin. “How you were raised or what you were born into wasn’t your choice. I’m sorry you’ve had to suffer because of others.”

I stare at him, wanting so bad for him to pull me into his lap and tell me everything I’ve ever wanted to hear. To hold me and tell me it’s going to be okay, but he doesn’t. Instead, he places my hand back into my lap and sits back in his seat, focusing his attention back on our story.

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