Page 33 of Beck and Call

"Don't even bother starting with me," Beckett told them. "I'm a workaholic. I've tried relationships in the past, and I always end up spending too much time working. This seemed like the perfect solution."

“I didn’t say a word, son.” Fitz turned his attention to me. "How old are you dear?"

"Twenty-three."

"So young," his mother muttered to herself.

My heart sank, for a moment I thought they were going to approve of me, but it seemed I never had a chance. Of course, most parents would think no one was good enough for their child, especially an only child. Here I was thinking it was my background that would turn them from me, but they hadn't even gotten past my age.

"What difference does it make how old she is?" Beckett demanded. He seemed like he was struggling to rein in his temper.

His father looked at both of us for what seemed like a minute, but was probably only a few seconds. "I don't really care that you're young. It is a fifteen-year gap, but I'm also older than his mother. What concerns me, Evie, is that you are only now starting out. I'd very much like to see my son married and a father soon."

Beckett winced but schooled his face quickly. "I'll make sure to knock her up and marry her, just for you, Dad." If the conversation weren't so tense, I might have enjoyed watching him revert to a petulant teenager around his parents. Well, I might have if the subject weren't impregnating me. Something I was definitely not ready for.

"Don't be crass," his mother chastised. "You're getting kind of old, and soon you won't be able to enjoy having kids. We just don't want you to miss out."

"When you are married, I will hand over the rest of the shares of the company to you. That isn't me being a stuffy old man either. I'm afraid the board is insisting the CEO of the company be settled. They've given me until June to either hand them over to you or spread them out between yourself and my nieces and nephew."

Beckett looked at me, and I knew we weren't arguing about whether or not we lived together, but it appeared the entire timetable of whatever our relationship was meant to be, was just sped up.

He stood and held out his hand to me. "Would you take a walk with me to the patio? My father has excellent taste and can order for us if you don't mind."

I took his hand and nodded.

We ventured out onto the stone patio and looked out at the trees and the lake. The sky had turned more navy than orange, and the night was quiet with many of the songbirds starting to migrate. There was a fire burning in a pit, and we gravitated toward it to fight the chill of the fall evening air.

"What are you thinking?" he asked me.

I laughed, because this entire day had been absurd. "Are you going to propose to me now? I know how much you love your company and don't want to lose it."

"Would it be so awful to marry me?"

I looked at him. The way his square jaw was highlighted from a day's worth of stubble. His eyes, so clear and blue, changed colors with the flickering light from the fire. His hair, a dark blond, held a variety of color from gold to light brown, but in front of the fire it mostly reflected auburns. Being married to him wouldn't be a hardship in that area.

There would not be any more struggle, at least financially. My grandmother would say he was a good provider and push me to accept. Her life was never not hard. But my mother, my flighty, romance-obsessed mother would tell me to hold out for love. Love had never done anything for her.

It was thoughts of my mother that shoved whatever inclinations I had to fanciful notions of soul mates and happily ever afters out of my mind. You could hardly call marrying a billionaire a hardship.

"It wouldn't be awful at all," I finally answered. "But I fear I would fall in love with you and be brokenhearted when you didn't love me back."

"Last night I asked you to move in with me." I gave him a disbelieving look. "Okay, I demanded you move in with me. The point is, I want to be with you. I'm not good at feelings, but want and desire I'm comfortable with. I think you know how much I desire you."

"What if that fades?"

"You want guarantees? I can't tell you our feelings for each other will never change, but I can promise you two things. One, we will never get divorced. I don't fail at things and will not be the first one in my family to get divorced, so if we do this, it isn't for a year, or however long my father stipulates for me to control the company. It will be for the rest of my life."

"What's the second promise?" I was choosing to ignore the fact he insinuated he'd die before me.

"There will never be anyone else, for either of us. I won't cheat on you."

I looked down. There was something he needed to know before this went too far. "I don't want to have children. If you marry me, you'll never be a father."

He smiled at me, with a wicked glint shining in his eyes. "So, I'll get to have you all to myself for the rest of our lives?"

"If we do get married, yes. This is too fast for me though. I know you said once we're married, we'll stay married, but can we have a trial engagement?"

"How long?"

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