Page 17 of Bloody Lace

I haven’t forgotten the way she tensed when I touched her back as we danced, or the way she flinched last night when I wiped soot from her cheek, her skin heating under my touch. The desire is there—she’s just afraid of it. And I can so easily show her that there’s nothing that she needs to be afraid of.

I stand up, ignoring the dark look on his face. “I’m going to break the news to Nicci today. I’ve already started making arrangements. We’ll be married in two weeks.”

“Two weeks—” My father narrows his eyes. “Did you get her pregnant?”

I’m tempted to say yes. It would be an easy excuse for all of this, and if need be, an easy lie about why no baby will actually come of it. But I simply shake my head. “It’s what we both want,” I say firmly. “And the sooner all of this is official, the better.”

“So I can’t get in your way. I see what you’re doing, Dimitri. And you’ll regret these choices, when you’ve had time to think it over.”

“No. I don’t think I will.”

I don’t give him time to say anything else. I stride out of his office, checking the time as I call my bank to request a second card that I can authorize for Evelyn’s use. I want her to be able to plan the wedding as she likes, including arranging for a dress, and I don’t want her to run into any financial issues along the way.

I intend to spoil her as thoroughly as I possibly can, to make certain she has no reason to regret this choice. And, in time, I think she’ll realize that there’s no reason not to make as much of this temporary marriage as we can.

No reason not to enjoy each other, when the possibility for so much pleasure is right there.

I have thirty minutes before Nicci is supposed to arrive. I finish the call with the bank, and go to find Vik, who is in the kitchen flirting with my father’s cook—a woman in her early forties who has, apparently, just handed him a freshly baked cinnamon roll.

“Vik.” I call out his name, a bit more sharply than I intend, and he pivots sharply on one heel, a look of embarrassment reddening his pale face. “I need you with me. Ms. Armand will be here shortly, and I want to make certain that when our conversation is finished, she leaves the premises.”

“Ms. Armand.” Vik’s mouth twitches as he regretfully sets the cinnamon roll back down, and I know he didn’t fail to notice that I didn’t refer to her by her first name out loud. But I want thisbusiness finished, and I want all intimacy between us severed. It’s best if my head of security is well aware of that.

“Yes. When she arrives, bring her out to the greenhouse to talk to me. It should be a brief conversation.” I want the meeting to happen well away from the house, where my father can’t overhear or interfere. And the greenhouse is relatively private.

Twenty minutes later, as I look at a row of cream-colored roses that the staff have been cultivating, I hear the sound of footsteps coming towards me. I look up, and see Nicci stalking in my direction, her eyes narrowed. She’s wearing a slim red sheath dress and heels that sink in the dirt as she walks, her hair neatly slicked back in a smooth ponytail, and she has that expression on her face that I’ve come to know so well.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” she says sharply, coming to an abrupt stop an arm’s-length away. “You didn’t even bother to let me know that you got back from your ‘business’ that you left the party so quickly for. Which makes me think, once again, that it was actually another woman.”

I feel that flicker of guilt, but I quickly squash it.

“I needed some time to think.”

“Think?” She splutters briefly, before regaining her composure. She crosses her arms over her chest—something Evelyn has done while talking to me, too. But there’s something different about it. Evelyn isn’t afraid to fire back at me, and it intrigues me. But with Nicci, I always feel as if nothing I do is ever going to be quite good enough. That whatever I say, it will be the wrong thing.

She’s never going to be happy with me. And although I don’t particularly like her company, I have no desire to make either of us unhappy.

“I know you’re expecting me to make the arrangement between us official by the new year. And while I’ve been thinkingabout how to go about doing exactly that, the truth is, Nicci—I can’t.”

I see her flinch, a momentary flash of hurt in her eyes before her gaze hardens again. “Can’twhat?” she asks tautly, and I know she understands what I’m saying. She just wants to make me spell it out.

I owe her that much, at least.

“I can’t marry you,” I say simply, and that flash of hurt in her eyes turns instantly to anger.

“So you’re breaking our engagement. My father will have something to say?—”

“There was no engagement,” I tell her firmly. “I didn’t propose, and no betrothal was finalized. There were no papers signed, no plans made. Your father and mine had a gentleman’s agreement, but I opposed it from the start. And though I’ve thought long and hard about how to make this match work between us, the truth is that we’re not well-suited to each other, Nicci. I can’t make you happy?—”

“Don’t tell me what makes me happy,” she flares, taking a sharp step backwards. Her mouth is pinched at the corners, and I can see her trembling faintly, fury running through her like an electric current. “You havenoidea what makes me happy.”

“Which is just more evidence that we shouldn’t be married.”

She laughs, a sharp, high bark of a sound. “What does marriage have to do with happiness? This marriage was a business deal.”

“One that doesn’t suit me. Look at it however you want, Nicci,” I tell her, as calmly as I’m able. “I’m refusing to go forward with this. I’m sorry, but there’s no insult to you. No broken engagement for you to explain. There wasnothingofficial between us.” I make sure to emphasize it, because it matters. In the circles we both move in, it could be damaging if Nicci tries to spread the rumor that I’ve broken a promise to her.That I humiliated her by breaking an official engagement. But there was no such thing.

What my father agreed to, and what I’ve agreed to are two different matters. And I’m finally putting my foot down on that.

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