Page 80 of Modern Romance March 2025 (5-8)

“No. No reason.” I smile. “Where do I sign?”

He offers me his hand. I’m catapulted back to another time and place, one where Rafe’s earthy, smoky scent wrapped around me with an intimacy I’d never experienced. A night when I pitched headfirst into love.

Resolve hardens in my veins. I remind myself of all the reasons why loving Rafe was a bad idea. Of why a marriage between us will never last. I use them as a shield against any wayward emotions and instead focus on the growing sensations of desire. The blood flowing through my veins, the heaviness of my breasts, the crackle of awareness across my skin.

When I accept his hand, I concentrate on the physical feelings, savor them as his fingers wrap around mine.

“May I help you stand?”

Shock renders me speechless. I blink up at him, surprised and touched that he’s asking. Confused by this display of feeling. Empowered that, unlike Thomas, he’s giving me a choice.

I nod. I secure my chair and then hold out my other hand. My tongue grows thick in my mouth as I give him instructions. “It’s best if I put my arms around your neck.”

He leans down, his eyes focused on mine. I slide my arms around him, the movement bringing our faces within inches of each other. He pulls me up in one fluid motion. One hand settles on my back while his other arm encircles my waist and pulls me flush against his body.

His tall, lean, hard body.

“Given the unique nature of our contract, I suggest a kiss to seal the deal.”

I glance around the gallery. “What if someone comes back—”

“They won’t.”

He speaks with such casual dominance that I can’t do anything more than nod. His eyes stay locked on me, the unbroken contact almost more intimate than the feel of my breasts pressed against his chest.

And then his lips cover mine. Warm, firm, a kiss that fills me as I lean into his embrace, my hands gripping his shoulders as I surrender myself to his touch. It’s intense yet tender, teasing and light.

It’s perfect.

I sigh, my lips parting slightly beneath his. His muscles tense beneath my hands.

And then his mouth opens. I gasp as his tongue teases the seam of my lips. He takes advantage and grazes his teeth across my lower lip. Sensation shoots through my body, leaving my nipples hard and my lower belly tight as I arch against him, feel his hardness pressed against my thighs. The world fades. Everything fades as I grip his shoulders, hanging on to him for dear life as my body responds to our mutual desire.

Finally, he breaks the kiss, slowly easing me down in my chair. I sit there, my mind whirling. It’s been just under twenty-four hours since Rafe walked back into my life. In one day I’ve gone from thinking I would be divorced in a matter of months to proposing a business arrangement that revolves around my husband introducing me to sex so he can inherit a multibillion-dollar company from his depraved and deceased father.

It sounds impossible. But so did my moving to Paris. Living on my own. Starting up my own business. Judging by how incredible our first real kiss just was, our agreement is going to exceed my wildest expectations.

So long as I can keep my heart locked up tight.

Rafe walks behind my chair. I know what he’s pulling out of the small pocket on the back. He circles back around, my purse in hand.

“The ring.”

I stare at the purse for a long moment. Then, slowly, I extend my hand. I pull out the little black makeup bag and unzip it. Diamonds set into the silver band glitter up at me. Rafe holds out his hand. I avoid his eyes as I set it in his palm.

He kneels in front of me. Tension wraps around my head and squeezes, pressing in on my temples as a burning sensation builds behind my eyes. There’s absolutely nothing romantic about what he’s doing. It’s merely a formality, a stipulation of a contract.

I tell myself this over and over again as he takes my hand in his and slides the ring onto my finger.

It doesn’t stop the ache.

“I’ll take you back to your apartment to pack.”

Rafe thankfully turns the conversation to my company as we move back down the hall, asking questions about the process of redesigning a room versus a house, how I work with clients requesting changes for accessibility. It relaxes me enough to make the ride home bearable.

But it’s not until he drops me off at my apartment and I close the door behind him that I’m finally able to step back from the emotional cliff he dragged me to. A cliff I nearly allowed myself to slip over once more.

Hesitation nearly makes me speak. But I stop myself. I want this. Want it for myself, for my future.

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