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I have been called calculating but I am not cold; I am not unfeeling. My love burns as bright as hers, as does my possession. But my anger, my emotion, doesn't simmer on the surface. It hides in wait for the moment when it needs to erupt.
Chapter 53
3 MONTHS AGO
"You won't marry me."
"Is that a question or a statement?"
"It's the beginning of a question."
“Okay, so finish it."
"I would, if you'd stop talking long enough to let me."
I looked up from the mountain of oranges before me, pausing my quest for one soft enough to eat. I grinned at Brant. "So talk."
He placed a mango in our basket, weaving through the roadside stands until he was closer to me. "You won't marry me, but why aren't we living together?"
Yes, why Layana? I searched my brain for an acceptable answer, other than Lee. I was pretty sure Lee wouldn't agree to fucking my brains out on Brant's bed. Then again, I had my downtown condo, the one that Molly and Marcus didn't break in properly. It deserved a good round of fornication. “Maybe we could do that," I finally said, moving in front of the limes.
Brant pulled at the shoulder of my sweater, stretching the cashmere in a way that shouldn't be done. "Maybe?" He wrapped an arm around my stomach and nipped at the back of my neck before turning me to him. "That's your answer?"
"It's a good answer." I raised onto my tiptoes and kissed him.
"It's a horrible answer," he grumbled, pulling me back when I tried to turn away. "Do you love me?"
I stopped. Setting my basket on the ground, I wrapped my hands around his waist and looked up into his face, the one that I loved more than life itself. "Of course I love you. Don't ever doubt that."
He leaned forward and brushed my lips so softly that I closed my eyes, needing more. "Then move in with me," he whispered. "Live with me in sin."
"That wouldn't be proper," I said.
"Then marry me.” He looked around the market with an exaggerated gesture. "Do you want me to do it? Kneel down right here?" He patted his pockets, pretended to fish for a ring.
"No!" I cried out. "For God's sake, no. I will move in with you.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and stole one last kiss.
"You promise?"
"I promise." Then I shrieked as he swooped me up into his arms, our basket tipping over, fruit rolling in all directions. "Brant, what are you doing?"
“We're going house-hunting." He hugged me to his chest, his arm looped under my knees, and deftly moved through the crowd toward his car.
My head craned for our basket. "What about the fruit?"
"I'll buy you a house with an orchard," he promised, setting me gently down on the pavement. He opened the passenger door and held it for me.
"Now?" I asked dumbly, stepping into the Aston Martin, watching his face as he shut the door and moved around to the driver's side. It was happy and confident, and it broke my heart a little that he had wanted this so badly and I had answered with a “maybe.”
“Now." He got into the driver’s seat and closed the door, then pushed the button to start the engine.
“Can't I just move into your house?” House was really the wrong word for it. It was a mansion, with fifty thousand square feet of space he barely used and a basement lab he had spent a fortune outfitting. He couldn't move, it wasn’t possible.
“That ismyhouse. I wantourhouse. A place to build our future. A place you pick out." He shifted into gear and tossed his phone into my lap. "Call Jill and find out which realtor I should use, then get them on the phone."
Our house. I dialed Jillian and wondered how well this would go over with Lee.
* * *
