Page 46 of The Proposal
My right eye is sore from one of Brock’s shitty punches. There’s a small knot on my jawline. And …what’s that on my chest?
I glance down and spot a bandage. “Huh?”
I pull it off to uncover a tattoo … of Blakely’s name. Over my heart.
My laughter shakes my whole body as vague memories of lying on a chair with Blakely standing over me with a marker trickle through my mind. I can hear her giggle as she drew on my skin. The playful sweetness in her eyes as she watched the artist imprint her design onto me.
The memory doesn’t bother me. It doesn’t make me mad or embarrassed. In fact, it makes me smile.
She makes me smile.
If the paparazzi weren’t involved, this whole thing would be hilarious.I married Blakely Evans. For once, I made a great choice.
And I’m the only person in the world who will get on board with that.
My spirits sink.
I wander around the bedroom, wishing my life was simpler. That I could run upstairs, laugh about this with Blakely, and then go to brunch with her, Brock, and Ella. I wish I didn’t have to worry about headlines, publicists, and contracts.
But I do.
Anger floods me again as my conversation with Frances hits me again.“I’m paid to protect your image. Your father has already called this morning …”
Fuck this.
I’ll be damned if this is handled like Blakely is a nonissue—if my father tries to get involved to save his own skin and act as if Blakely is inconsequential. He might treat me like that, but I’ll be damned if he does it to her.
What does she even think about this?I’m sure she’s as gobsmacked as I am.And what is Brock’s reaction going to be once he’s settled down?I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t try to fight me again.
I don’t know whether to smash something or vomit.
My phone rings, tipping the scales toward vomiting. I know it’s Dad without looking. I can feel the judgment, the wrath about to come my way.
I take a long, deep breath before looking at the screen.
I might as well get it over with.
“Hello?” I say.
“Renn,what the fucking hell is this shit? I wake up this morning to calls that yougot marriedlast night? Are you out of your damn mind?”
I wince. “Ah, you heard …”
“How about for once in your damn life you listen—and you listen good. This little stunt of yours could cost me a deal worth three-quarters of a billion dollars that I’ve been working on for two years—not to mention your contract.My God, Renn.Do you realize how badly you’ve fucked up this time?”
“You know, it’s really not that big of a deal.”
I regret the words as soon as I say them. I pull the phone away from my ear just in time.
“Not that big of a deal?” His laughter—loud and obnoxious—is at my expense. “Son, getting married and filing for an annulment less than twenty-four hours later is abigfucking deal. That’s especially true when your employer just made you sign a fucking waiver that you won’t embarrass the team or become a media distraction!”
“You realize that short of this being a real marriage because you’re in love, the only way to possibly save Blakely’s image, your contract, and your father’s purchase is to nip this in the bud, right?”
I tune out my father’s rant and do my best to sort through the alcohol still in my system and think that last thought through.Short of this being a real marriage because you’re in love …
My heart pounds.
What if we didn’t get an annulment? What if Blakely and I stayed married? Would it really hurt anything?
