Page 80 of Morally Black Betrothal
I rounded the desk and sat in the chair next to her. Then I grabbed her hand before I could stop myself, tugging her attention back to me.
Her fingers were slender but sturdy, with short, unpainted nails and a few faded burn scars decorating her knuckles. A baker’s hands. Capable hands.
And one of them was wearing my ring.
“It’s just…it was for me to decide, not you,” she said as we both watched my thumb travel over her knuckles. “You could have talked to me about it. I’m not an unreasonable person. I would have listened.”
Those blue eyes met mine, and the rage was gone. In its place was something unnameable. Something I realized I’d been looking for most of my life.
“I-I—” I stuttered a bit before I said the one thing Ineversaid. “You’re right.”
Simone’s lip slipped between her teeth again, and a shy smile emerged. “I…am?”
She seemed as surprised as I was.
I swallowed. It was difficult to speak when she looked at me like that. “You are. Yes, you are. And I’ll, ah, try to talk to you first the next time I need something.”
We blinked at each other for several more moments, as if both of us needed time to let my capitulation sink in.
“Your accent,” she said softly. “It’s back.”
I raised a brow. “I don’t have an accent.”
I was rewarded with a shadow of her dimple as she fought a smile. “Yes, you do. I think it means you care.”
At that, I had nothing to say. Because I couldn’t confirm it, could I? Not when I wasn’t ready to admit anything of the sort to myself.
“Anyway, I forgive you.”
I stared at her.Whydid that feel so good to hear?
It was better than confession, that was for sure.
I did my very best to erase any signs of South Boston, accents, orcaringfrom my voice. “Listen, if you trust me, I’ll teach you. How to deal with the pressure. There are things that will make this arrangement…tolerable.”
“Like what?” Mischief colored her expression. She was joking with me again.
And I fucking loved it. I wished I knew how to joke back. All I wanted to do was keep that smile on her beautiful face.
“Well, there’s the money, of course. Not just what I’m paying you, but also the perks. New clothes, jewelry, spa services, all of that.”
She blinked like an owl, clearly unimpressed. I wasn’t sure how to react. My sister and Violeta went to Paris and Milan twice yearly for couture fittings and spent God knew what on all the things I’d just mentioned. Simone had blown off a stylist to sit with old people at a hospital ward.
Once again, I was fumbling as I tried to find something to convince her that this arrangement wasn’t going to be the disaster she clearly thought it was.
“Also, per the contract, you’ll be moving in with me,” I blurted out. “Today.”
Pink colored her cheeks. “‘Cohabitation.’ Yes, we already talked about this. Ruth showed up today to pack.”
“Are you still okay with that?”
“You’re asking?”
I found myself nodding.
I wasasking? After the fact?
Yes, apparently, I was.
