Page 60 of Billionaire's Accidental Marriage
“My father’s businesses.”
He reached over the table and took my hand. “No, Maggie. Your businesses. They’reyoursnow. He gave them to you when he passed away.”
I ripped away from him. “You think I don’t know that?” I shot him a heated look before I stood to my feet. “Michael, I can’t have this conversation with you right now. I’m barely awake, I’m exhausted, I’m sure my nausea will kick in soon, and I simply can’t.”
He slowly stood to his feet, too. “Which is all the more reason to consider this. Once you get further along in your pregnancy, you’re going to have to drop something. You can’t possibly—”
I pointed up at him. “Don’t you dare tell me what I can and cannot do. That will never be your role in my life, no matter how many children of yours I have. No matter how many years we’re married. You got that?”
His face grew sorrowful. “That wasn’t my intention. I just know that you’ll have to eventually turn all of your attention to your boutiques if you want them to succeed.”
He was right, but I didn’t like the idea of leaving the spa, and it pissed me off that he would even consider bringing it up so nonchalantly.
“Listen, Mike. I worked hard to get the position I have there now. I busted my ass on nights, weekends, and holidays to show Yuslan and Guadalupe that I was capable of taking on that kind of a task. And now, we’re going to talk about leaving because of something that was handed to me? Because of something I’m still not sure I even want? It goes against everything I’m about, and you have to handle it as such. You can’t just randomly bring it up over breakfast first thing in the morning and expect me to react well to it. All right?”
He swallowed hard. “You’re right.”
I blinked. “Wait. What?”
He chuckled as he walked around the table and settled his hands against my shoulders. “You’re right, Maggie.”
My eyes danced between his. “Yeah. I’m right.”
He snickered. “Don’t sound so unsure about it. You have good points. You always do; it’s one reason I wanted you to become my work wife. I knew your outlook and opinions would keep me in check.”
I smiled softly. “Well, don’t make me regret making you my work husband.”
“Or your real husband?”
My face went stone cold. “I want you to listen very closely, you hear me?”
His face fell. “Yes, I’m listening.”
“I will never, ever, in a million years, regret making you my husband. Ever. No matter what we argue about, no matter what happens, and no matter if we make it or not. I’ll never regret the decision of telling you to put our divorce on the back burner. Understood?”
He cupped my cheek as he blinked back tears. “Understood.”
I nodded. “Good. Now, you got anything else to say before I sit down and finish my juice?”
He grinned. “Just that quitting your job at the spa doesn’t ever mean not going back.”
I blinked. “Huh?”
He smiled as he sat me back down in my chair. “Have you ever thought about how you could possibly use your boutiques to partner up with the spa? You know, use your connections there to make business connections elsewhere?”
“I’m not following.”
He crouched in front of me. “You have boutiques, and boutiques usually sell unique—and sometimes handcrafted—items people can’t get anywhere else. Right?”
“Right.”
“So, use your connections with your bosses there to set up some sort of a relationship that will keep you in connection with them.”
I furrowed my brow. “I’m still not following.”
He pulled up a chair and sat in front of me. “You know how sometimes you can go into a store, and they’ve got coupons you can have for other stores in the area?”
“Yeah…?”
