Page 60 of Something Borrowed

“You can’t be so arrogant that you think I would just let you get away with this?” he snarls.

I glance at Verity who is chewing at her nails, her eyes glassy with anxiety as she shifts from foot to foot, watching me and only hearing half of the conversation.

I move the phone from my ear and press the loud speaker button so that she can hear everything. She has a right to know exactly what is going on. I have no intention of hiding anything from her.

Her father takes a heavy breath on the other side of the phone.

“I called to negotiate.” He says.

“Negotiate?”

“Yes, for the return of my daughter. I can have seven million transferred to your account within the hour if you agree to send her back to me.”

“Seven million?”

Verity bites so hard into her lip I’m worried she is going to draw blood.

“Yes, I assume it’s enough? You are a businessman. I imagine you are as fascinated with money as you with conquering women? On acceptance of the agreement you would be required to divorce my daughter and send her home.”

I chuckle. A dark, malicious laugh that is tainted with amusement.

I look at my wife when I answer him.

“The problem, Mr. A’Vara, is that Verity is like no women I have ever met. She is priceless. She is too rare and precious to put any amount on. No, I am not interested in your money. The only thing I want - well, I already have it.”

Her eyes are shining, wide, blue orbs of relief. If she thought for even a second that I would give her up for all the money in the world she is mistaken.

She is mine.

Verity is the type of jewel you can’t buy. No matter what he offered in trade I would be losing if I gave her up.

For a long moment her father is silent.

I think the line has been disconnected until all hell breaks loose on his end.

He is screaming, raging, throwing a tantrum of monumental proportions.

I wait, watching Verity.

She was relieved when I didn’t accept his offer, but now she looks miserable again. She’s chewing at her lip and fidgeting with her hands.

When she starts to pace up and down with her head turned to the ground, I worry.

“Verity?” I whisper, so that her father can’t hear.

“You don’t know what he’s capable of.” She whimpers.

She’s terrified.

“I told you - it doesn’t matter. We can get through it. I won’t let him take you.”

“But is it really worth it?” she is crying now. Silent tears drifting down her cheeks.

“Are you listening to me?” Luca shouts.

“I’m here. I’m listening.”

“Where is she? I want to talk to her. Put my daughter on the phone.”

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