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I fold into the back seat of the car.
Instantly, Michela pounces. “I see what you’re doing. You are cornering me, so I have no choice but to accept your proposition.”
“We always have choices.”
“And you chose me.”
“I have.”
“To be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“Mmhm.”
She chews her lip. “Marriage is a big deal.”
“A ten-million-dollar deal.”
Her gaze finds the window, and I can tell she’s uncomfortable and that some of the principles she lives by are slowly disintegrating. “Evans said you were downstairs. He knew everything before I came. I feel duped.”
I don’t answer. Unlike me, Michela is the type who works out her issues by talking them over with someone. I lean back.
“Evans reports to you, then?” she asks.
“I buy information from him.”
“Do you buy everything?” She searches my face for an answer.
“Yes,” I say, nodding. “Pretty much.”
“Okay, Corrado. I’ll come to the apartment with you so we can negotiate our marriage arrangement.”
Relieved, I rest my head back and sigh. “Fuck, baby, you made me work.”
22
A KISS FOR THE BRIDE
MICHELA
As we ride the elevator to his apartment and I recall the events that occurred in the same space of the design building only about half an hour ago, I notice that the buttons of Corrado’s white shirt are half undone.
By accident, I’m sure. I can’t imagine him walking around looking tousled. Besides, the parting of his shirt reveals his tanned and hairy chest and the golden chain hanging from his neck. Apparently, I find that attractive. It makes me want to unbutton the rest of his dress shirt and press my cheek against his heart, if only to hear if it’s really beating.
Or if he’s a heartless bastard who goes after whatever he wants, no matter the consequences. Granted, for him, there will be no consequences from this marriage. For me, well, I’m another story since I’ve never been in a relationship with a guy I didn’t like. I can’t say I’ve loved a man before, but I’ve liked more than one man. Which is how I know I like Corrado.
I’m sure he likes me too, which will make this marriage believable and pleasant, if complicated and difficult, since I presume my feelings will get in the way of business. Our relationship is guaranteed to end in heartbreak. Mine, not his.
But I can’t let my feelings get in the way of business.
The moment we enter the apartment, Corrado walks to the fridge. I notice it’s full, and I’m suddenly jealous of the girl who stocked it, since Corrado wouldn’t be caught dead in a grocery store. He’d think of it as the most inefficient way to spend time, because his time is best spent looking hot while bending people to his will.
“Hungry?” He sets two lemonades near a leather navy-blue folder on the kitchen bar and sits down on the bar chair. He raises an eyebrow. “Well?”
“Um, no, thank you.” I’m starving.
The furniture in the apartment changed. An off-white traditional sofa with thick textured fabric replaced the dull leather office one. A deep pink furry blanket folds over the armrest of the matching couch that’s facing the fireplace, before which a pair of chairs stand.
One is an elegant grand purple chair with silk upholstery and hand-carved wooden armrests. The other is a more laid-back chair wrapped in mustard-yellow velvet. Somehow, the washed-out Persian-style rug brings the living space all together.
