Page 20 of Bride on the Dotted Line

My filet mignon is a little tough. I would have used a different grade of butter in the skillet. More black pepper. “Ah, sothat’swhat you call single-handedly saving my public image. I thought it was a hobby.”

She laughs, sipping from her wine glass. “For a fee increase, I can upgrade you to passion project.”

“My father would love that. He called me an ignoramus last night on the phone.”

“Do all billionaires use phrases exclusively from the late eighteen hundreds?”

“Mine does. Some of his ideas come right out of the Victorian era.” I shift in my seat, cutting my steak to have an excuse to break eye contact. I can feel the moment getting closer. My knee bounces under the table.

“Like?”

I put my cutlery down, staring at her. Her face is relaxed, but her back is pin-straight, and the set of her shoulders is tight. Maybe she feels what’s coming, too. Maybe she can tell I’m about to say something I’ve never said before and probably will never say again.

I’m not ahusband guy,after all.

“I have something to ask you, Sienna.”

She looks up from her plate. “About the plan? I brought the contract if you want to?—”

“Not quite.” I clear my throat, folding and unfolding my napkin. “I googled your name over the weekend. I read the articles about your dad’s company going bankrupt.”

Silence falls between us. Emotions flick across her face too quickly for me to pick one out. I wonder if she’s been waiting for me to mention this—she had to know I’d connect the dots at some point.

Then she drops her fork and crosses her arms. “Yes?”

“I want to help.”

Her eyes flash. “We don’t need your charity, Mr. Harwood.”

“I know.”

“And we don’t need your judgement, either.”

“I’m not trying to judge you,” I tell her. “I figured most of what the articles said wasn’t true.”

She studies me for a moment, then nods. “My dad’s co-owners plotted against him. They tried to push him out of the company by ruining his reputation online. He has anxiety. He was burned out. That doesn’t mean he was the reason the company was failing. Even if he was, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Of course.”

Her fingers tap on her upper arm. “You’re bringing this up because …?”

“Because I’d like to suggest a deal.” My heartbeat is in my temples. “A business agreement.”

“A business agreement?”

“I’m prepared to cover your family’s debts above and beyond the ten million dollars my father is offering. Whatever the number is, I’ll pay it, and I’ll sign your PR contract, too. It’ll be a new start for your dad. A new start for you.”

Sienna’s brows jump, the movement so miniscule I almost don’t catch it. She looks at me warily, like she thinks I’m joking but can’t decide if it’s funny yet. I don’t blame her. This is ridiculous. Absurd. Completely preposterous.

But I can see the hunger in her eyes even now. It’s the same look that’s in mine. We’re predators underneath, her and I, and it’s confirmed when she decides not to laugh at me and leans forward instead, pinning me with a level gaze.

“What’s the exchange?” she asks.

It’s a simple question, and after I’ve sipped my wine and returned the glass to the table, I offer a simpler answer.

“Marry me.”

Chapter 9

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