Page 11 of Dallas
“Where are you from?” I ask her.
She hesitates, eyeing me suspiciously. “I was born in Miami.”
“Ah. That’s far away. What brought you to Arizona?”
Another hesitation. Finally, she sighs. “I came here for college. I like it here, so I found this job and stayed.” Her answer seems rehearsed, like she prepared that response a long time ago, knowing people might ask her questions.
I can’t keep what I know from her forever. It wouldn’t be fair, and it would backfire on me in the long run. “Full disclosure, Arianna. I had my PI look into you.”
Yes, her eyes can go wider. She jerks her hand free of mine and rises from the couch. In seconds, she’s stumbling backward, nearly falling on her ass. She’s pale, too. She looks like she might vomit. “Why?”
I don’t move. I don’t want to spook her further. “I knew from the moment I met you that you had secrets. It’s obvious you’re hiding from something or somebody.”
She drops into the armchair, pulls her knees to her chest, and tugs her dress down over them. She hugs her shins and drops her forehead against her knees.
I fear she’s close to hyperventilating. Whatever she’s hiding, the thought of anyone finding out scares her to death. I suspect she thinks I know, but I don’t.
“Arianna, my PI found nothing on you before the age of eighteen. I’m aware that you reinvented yourself then, and whoever did it for you did an amazing job because even my expensive private investigator couldn’t find a thing.”
She doesn’t move.
I hate that she’s so distressed, and I really wish she would tell me why, but I need to earn her trust, and it doesn’t help any that I went behind her back and hired someone to dig into her past.
“I’ll respect your privacy for now if you’re not ready to talk about it. As long as you can promise me you’re not in danger.”
She sniffles and shakes her head. “I already told you I’m not,” she tells her knees defiantly.
I like her spunk. “Okay, then we’ll table your childhood. Are you really from Miami?”
She nods, but she still won’t meet my gaze.
“How about if I tell you about me?”
She shrugs.
I smile and proceed, “My father is the second-born son of Amos Wilde—Richard. He left Wilde and moved to Texas, where he met and married my mother. I’m their second born. I was born in Dallas, and for some reason, my mother thought it would be fun to name me Dallas.”
My girl lifts her face. She stares at me with narrowed, unbelieving eyes. “You’re kidding.”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
She drops her chin to her knees this time. Progress.
“I met and married my first wife when I was thirty-four.”
She jerks her head up. “How many wives have you had?”
I chuckle. “Just two. You’ll be the second and final wife.”
She rolls her eyes and lowers her chin back to her knees. If I keep telling her my intentions, will she eventually accept what I’m telling her as reality?
I lean forward and set my elbows on my knees, holding Arianna’s gaze. “I knew you were mine the moment I stepped into this library a week ago, baby. I’ve been dragging my feet because I wasn’t prepared to let myself be vulnerable with a woman again. I was married for five years to my first wife, and she left a very bad taste in my mouth. I swore I would not marry again. I had no interest in ever letting a woman snow me under and rake me through the coals again.”
Arianna licks her lips and whispers, “What changed?”
I smirk. “I think it was that Doug guy coming in and flirting with you today. I realized the thought of him or anyone else thinking they could have you made my skin crawl. I may have been in denial about how strongly I felt about you, but my eyes are open now. I’m done lying to myself. You’re mine, Arianna.”
She licks her lips again. “People don’t own other people, Dallas.”
