Page 16 of Fix You

“Can you shoot?” I asked Drea directly.

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you know self-defense?”

A shy smile curved on her lips. “I can take a small man down.”

“Good for you. I don’t care for damsels in distress.”

Edoardo’s gaze pinged between me and Drea. “Why don’t I give you two a moment alone to talk?” he suggested.

“Thank you.”

He then motioned us forward to where we could walk a good distance in front of him. Of course, he wasn’t too far away in case I became ungentlemanly and tried to get handsy with my future bride.

After we walked in silence for a few moments, I reached into my coat pocket to pull out a small Tiffany box. It had been an unwanted gift on my last birthday. A symbol from my father that my single days were numbered. It had been collecting dust in my safe until this morning when I’d reluctantly taken it out.

At the sight of it in my hands, Drea’s upper lip curled in disgust. When she caught me looking at her, she quickly feigned a smile. I was starting to get whiplash from her flickering emotions.

As I stared down at her, my expression grew serious. “The most important thing I ask of you as my future wife is that you never lie to me.”

“Yes, sir,” she dutifully replied.

“And don’t ever call me sir.”

“Okay,” she replied cautiously.

“I know you don’t want to marry me, Drea.”

She shook her head wildly back and forth. “No, no, you are mistaken. It is my honor and my duty.”

“Bullshit.”

Her blue eyes shot wide. “Excuse me?”

“Stop parroting the bullshit your father and mother spew at you. I know it for what it is. Absolute bullshit.”

Drea’s tense posture relaxed slightly. “I like your honesty.”

“I would like to have yours and no more lies.”

She drew her shoulders back. “Fine then. I don’t want to marry you.”

With a grin, I replied, “Good. That makes two of us.”

Drea nervously licked her lips. “Absolute honesty, right?”

“Yes.”

“I want to continue studying art. Someday I want to own my own gallery.”

Furrowing my brows at her, I replied, “Your father said you wanted to be a teacher.” At the panicked look in Drea’s darkeyes, I said, “Let me guess. You only told him you wanted to be a teacher because a woman owning her own business would be frowned upon.”

Her mouth dropped open at my comment. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Lucky guess.”

After nibbling on her bottom lip, Drea said, “I adore art. I always have. But for the last couple of years, I’ve really focused on galleries.”

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