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Shocked, Theo wrenched away.
Applause and catcalls rolled through the pews as Emmie looked up at him. Her blue-violet eyes were luminous beneath the ridiculous pile of white fluff on her head. He saw the same agony, the same need and fear, reflected in her beautiful, haunted face. She bit her lower lip, her red lipstick scarlet as roses, emphasizing bow-shaped lips in a heart-shaped face as she searched his gaze. She swallowed, then backed away.
“No,” she breathed.
Throwing her bouquet on the floor in an explosion of red petals, Emmie turned and ran from the altar, leaving everything and everyone behind as she disappeared through the side door.
Theo’s jaw dropped.
“Guess she needs a little convincing,” her father ventured, in what seemed like the understatement of the year. Theo scowled.
Damn it, why was it always so difficult to convince Emmie of anything? To be his secretary? To tell him about her pregnancy? To marry him?
She’d resisted becoming his wife just as she’d once resisted becoming his secretary. Back then, he’d thought it was proof of her good sense, that she saw through his charm and wasn’t easily fooled.
But now...
It seemed Emmie’s opinion of him hadn’t changed at all. Even after their year and a half of working together, she still thought he was not only a selfish bastard but an utter villain. How else to explain why, after their kiss, she’d looked at him with trepidation almost like fear?
Standing abandoned at the altar beside the minister, as the people in the pews gleefully held up their phones, Theo felt foolish, as he hadn’t in decades. His cheeks burned.
He’d never imagined asking any woman to marry him, but he’d always assumed that if for some reason he deigned to select a lucky bride, she’d immediately and gratefully jump into his arms.
Instead, Emmie hadrun away.
“Excuse me,” Theo told everyone grimly and turned to pursue his fleeing bride out the side door.
He caught up with her on the other side, in the church hall decorated for a wedding reception.
“Wait,” he growled.
Emmie looked back at him, her face troubled. “I’m not going to marry you.”
He caught her hand. “Just stop.”
“Don’t touch me.” She wrenched her hand away, her brilliant eyes flashing in the dappled light. Such an intoxicating shade. He thought dazedly of violet flowers, the symbol of ancient Athens. The color of the city’s horizon at sunset.
“Fine.” Keeping his hands wide of her, Theo took a deep breath. “We need to talk.”
“About what?” She lifted her chin. “Maybe we should talk about that little stunt you just pulled, demanding we get married out of nowhere.Kissingme? In front of everyone?”
He looked past the reception hall’s long folding tables to the homemade wedding cake surrounded by paper plates and stale-looking mints. A hand-painted banner was spread across the back wall, anchored by cheap, drooping balloons.Congrats, Emmie and Harold.
His jaw set. “You didn’t seem to have any problem marrying that old man.”
“Harold’s a good person,” she protested.
“Why, Emmie? Why him?”
“He offered us a home.”
“Icould give you a home,” he said. “Several homes around the world. Why didn’t you ask me?”
“Because...” She swallowed, then looked away. Finally she met his eyes. “Why are you pretending you want this, Theo? A wife, a child?”
“I’m not pretending.”
She gave a low, bitter laugh. “You forget I know you. Even before I worked for you, I saw how you were. I heard you the morning of Nico’s wedding, telling him it wasn’t too late to make a run for it! And you were the best man!”
