Page 25 of Between Commitment and Betrayal
He hummed. “You plan on discussing your Cobra with the media?”
“I…” Did he expect me to stop seeing Wes? Expect me to have an answer for everything right this second? “I’m not going to change who I’m seeing because my father was acting irrationally.”
“Just your marriage status, right?” Declan said in a sort of monotone voice.
“Do you really care? People have open marriages.”
“Yes, and marriages of convenience all the time too,” he said so softly while staring at me with those green eyes that I wasn’t sure he agreed with me at all. Normally, he’d have an outburst and not handle his emotions with this well at all. Normally, he wouldn’t be able to contain the fire burning in his eyes that I saw right there. “We’ll make it work. Carl wanted you taken care of. I can give him that.”
I shrugged. “Or he wanted his way.”
“Well, he can have his way for a year.” His tone was matter-of-fact, like this was one more chore he had to complete for the day.
I nodded and tried my best to mirror his emotion. “Well, should we do a press release? We could—”
“Let’s keep it quiet until someone figures it out. We can keep doing what we’re doing. Seems easy enough,” he said.
I wouldn’t agree. There were more rules we should define, more commitments, more boundaries. “I’ll be living on your property and in your space for a year. I’d venture to say that may pose some challenges.” I pushed him a bit.
“You nervous about my house, Drop?” A small smile all of a sudden played on his face.
“No. I just don’t want to be intrusive, and I want to make sure we iron everything out now.”
“No rules. I’m laid-back about my space.” He eyed me up and down, and butterflies erupted in my stomach, fluttering around near my ovaries in a way they shouldn’t have. “And maybe I’m okay with you being in it.”
Immediately, I shook my head. “No. That’s… us mixing this marriage with pleasure is a bad idea. No sex or real relationship. I don’t like the spotlight and you’re constantly in it. I don’t— This is the opposite of the life I want.”
He squinted before he admitted, “You’re nothing like most of the women I’ve met. You know that?”
“I think most everyone around here is led by their ego. I let that go a long time ago. I simply want peace.”
He nodded like he agreed. “And what do you think I’m led by?” he asked softly.
Something painful flashed in his eyes, like he had secrets too; like his heart wasn’t open for the world to see in all the magazines he posed for, but it was those magazines that made me say what I did. “I don’t know, Declan. I think you and my father enjoy being kings. And you’re interested in being the ruler of an empire I want no part of.” I shrugged, trying to ignore the pull I had to him. “So, let’s just keep this marriage easy. I’ll live in the guesthouse, and you’ll live up there, and as long as you knock, I’m laid-back about space too.”
The rain pounded harder now, in sync with the rapid thundering of my heart as I waited for him to agree, as I waited for us to start a freaking year together.
“I’ll make note to have my assistant get you access to everything.” He grunted out. He must have realized what I was saying was for the best. “I’ve already texted her to get the movers going on your apartment.”
My mother had texted. She’d been read her portion of the will this afternoon, once Declan and I secured her assets. Once I traded my marital status for her life and livelihood. That’s what I’d signed away my life for.
My mother, who’d probably left a voice mail checking on me, hadn’t even been invited to watch her only child’s nuptials. I hadn’t even had time to tell her I was being married never mind ask if she could be a witness. She had no idea that I had bound my life to a man—with vows and everything.
It was only a year.
I took a deep breath, but it was small. Another small one. Too many small ones to count. I whipped open the car door in his driveway and stumbled into the rain, trying my best to breathe, but no air came.
“Jesus Christ,” I gasped. I tried to scramble for control. I’d had to rein in my emotions before. I could do it again.
Then he was right in front of me as I bent over. I saw his stupid expensive leather shoes and watched how the water beaded off them like he’d had them shined before the meeting. They made the air around me come even slower, although I was trying to breathe faster.
A football player turned billionaire who was everyone’s dream but my worst nightmare. I saw his house, so gigantic it felt like it was towering over me, like it would eat me alive if I stepped foot into it.
“Everly, breathe.”
I gasped. “I can’t. I… I married you, and it’s all wrong. I don’t want this. Or you. Or your expensive shoes.”
He grabbed my shoulder, pulling me up to standing again. Then, he grasped my chin and tilted my face to look up at him. “Breathe, Drop.”
