Page 6 of Savage Romance
“Fiancée? I don’t see a ring on her finger.”
“The one I bought her didn’t fit,” Dennehy lied.
The sheik’s eyebrows lowered and almost touched each other. After an awkward pause where Ben simply ignored Abbas’ glare, the sheik snarled, “Fine, but I want proof of your marriage within a month and will have to be paid back in full, plus interest.”
Dennehy nodded.
The sheik snapped his fingers and turned on his heels. Ben kept Zoe against his side as he waited for the men to exit the hotel. Silent and demure, Zoe kept her gaze to the floor.
“Hey.” Dennehy placed a finger under her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. Big bright eyes foggy with tears stared up at him from a pale face.
“Why did you do that?” she whispered.
“You’re excellent at managing the hotel, and I don’t want to lose my manager. Binding you to me through marriage will ensure I can keep you with me, right?”
Although he’d never considered matrimony, Dennehy could see the merits of an arranged marriage. In a way, it was about the same as a contract with an escort only a bit longer term and without having to worry about pregnancies or condoms. He could do this.
Chapter Six
Zoe hung on to Dennehy like a drowning person would hang on to a raft. Holding her against his side and half carrying her because her legs refused to work, Dennehy steered her toward the offices, while he used his other hand to fish out his master key from his slacks.
Debts. Sheik. Fiancée.
She couldn’t breathe, and her head was all fuzzy and strange. She staggered, would have fallen if not for the tall tower of muscle and determination next to her.
“Hold on, darlin’,” he murmured.
“I’m going to be sick.” Her knees wobbled. “I need to sit down.”
Swiping his card, Dennehy picked her from the floor and carried her inside and toward a couch.
Fighting the nausea, she settled onto the cushion and resisted the urge to grab his arms when he withdrew. Don’t leave me.
As if she’d actually spoken, he assured, “I’m just getting the wastebasket for you.”
True to his word, he returned to her side with the metal bin. The couch cushion dipped, and a warm hand landed on her nape. With light pressure, he urged her to lean forward. “Slow your breathing, darlin’. That’s it.” Gently, he soothed her with soft words of comfort and long firm strokes over her neck, back, and shoulders.
Zoe pulled in a breath. In through the nose. Hold it. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Slowly exhale to the count of eight. She concentrated on her breathing, until she relaxed enough to lift her head and speak, “I’m all right now, you can let go of me.”
His hand on her back stilled and lifted, but he didn’t leave her side. “Stay like this for a bit longer. We have business to discuss.”
The couch moved as his weight lifted, and his comforting warmth and solid body disappeared as he stood. Her instinct yelled for him not to leave her, but Zoe stayed still and silent. His feet moved out of her line of sight.
Startled, she lifted her head when Dennehy started to talk. She frowned until she noticed the Bluetooth device in his ear.
“Yes, you heard me correctly. I’m getting married.” A pause. “Yes. A prenup, NDA. The works.” Like a jungle cat in a cage, Dennehy stalked back and forth. “Why shouldn’t I marry? Just arrange the damn papers.” Zoe flinched at his tone, and he stole a glance at her and moderated his voice. “Fine. Yes.” A longer pause. “Listen, Hugo, people get married all the time, so why not me?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, I’m not being blackmailed. Just get the fucking paperwork done ASAP.” His tone hardened on the last sentence then gentled. “That’s okay. Thank you. Yes, I will. Goodbye, Hugo. Give Joline a hug for me.” He pulled the device from his ear, slid it back into his shirt pocket, and turned his full attention on Zoe.
“My lawyer will have the papers drawn by the end of the day,” he informed her.
“What papers?”
“Didn’t you listen? Hugo will be writing up our marriage papers; you know, prenup, NDA, marriage license.”
“You’ve got to be kidding, right?” Zoe stared at the broad-shouldered figure. She’d studied him, his empire, and his family—committed every detail to her memory. This was nothing like him. He had never been married, hadn’t had a serious relationship in his life—the man didn’t even date. He booked escorts for God’s sake. Classy ones, but still women for hire. There was no way he wanted a marriage. As for me…
“I’m not interested in getting married.”
“Why not?”
