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“Why is that a problem?” I ask.
“Because of reasons.”
“Which are?”
“Mine.”
“That’s very mature, Corrado.”
He spins and walks up to me. “You want to talk mature, hm? How about we talk about you? You could, for example, acknowledge that you’re drowning in your shitty life and must take the hand I’m offering to pull you out of poverty. What more do you want?”
Heartless, heartless man. “I want my integrity intact. A ticket out of poverty is one thing, but who I am as a woman is not for sale. This is what you like about me, Corrado, and you want me to sell it so you can prove to yourself it’s just another thing you can buy. I can’t sell it because it feels like I’m selling a piece of myself, the anchor of my soul. And while you or, hell, probably most of the world would call me an idiot for not jumping right on top of your dick while you shower me with money, they also won’t walk in my fine designer shoes when our time’s up and I’m left without that anchor for my soul. I want a job. It will advance my career and give me an opportunity to do what I love doing well past these few weeks of our fake life.” I hold my breath.
“Go on,” he says.
“I want to earn a living more than I want a handout,” I go on, trying to persuade him. “A job as a designer and not a secretary at that firm that would open doors previously closed to me. And with your position and the parties and dinners I assume we’ll attend, I can network with clients with big resources. I want people to live in beautiful spaces I can make for them, and I can’t do it without your help. So there. That’s my dream.”
Corrado sits down. “I must say the dream about you jumping on my dick while I shower you with money is becoming one of my dreams too.”
I chuckle. “Is that all you heard?”
He starts amending the contract by striking out the money and replacing it with a job offer from Evans. Once he’s done, he gives me back the pen.
“Sign the papers, Michela. I want to kiss my bride.”
23
MARRIAGE ARRANGEMENT TERMS
MICHELA
Our marriage arrangement will last until Corrado concludes his business in town or at the end of the summer, whichever comes first. Once the papers are signed, I close the folder and face him, expecting the kiss he promised. I even inch closer to him.
He offers me a hand, and I shake it.
“You’ve negotiated a crappy deal for yourself, but I admire your determination,” he says.
“Thank you, Corrado. Nobody’s ever appreciated my stubbornness before.”
He reaches into his pocket, then stops and winces, rubbing his shoulder.
“Did you sleep wrong?” I ask.
He mumbles something.
“What was that?” I walk behind him and start kneading his shoulders. At first, he tenses up, but I keep at it, finding quite a few tight bumps. I use my fingertips and massage them, gradually feeling the tension leave his shoulders.
Corrado groans in a way only a woman wiggling underneath him should hear. “God, yes,” he moans. An image of him moving above me in a bed made of black satin and goose feathers assaults me.
I swallow, trying to think of anything else, but Corrado’s growling low in his throat now, and I can’t stop thinking about what it would feel like if he growled like that in my ear while he fucked me.
When I feel myself getting wet between my legs, and when my massage becomes more sensual, my hands moving toward his front, my fingers running through his chest hair, I step around him.
His hand flies out, and he shoves me back behind him. “Finish it off.”
I swallow and knead his shoulders again, pressing between his shoulder blades.
After he shoved me behind him, his palm never left my hip, and now he moves it down the side of my leg to my thigh, where he squeezes. “Go on,” he says. “This feels good.”
