Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
“Of course,” Francisco agrees.
“I’d like you to make sure he’s safe and that he can continue his studies,” I continue. “We have the money from my father’s trust to pay for his college, but sooner or later, my father’s enemies are going to find out about him. Especially if I marry you.”
“Understood,” Francisco says, reaching for my hand. He sits down next to me, like husband and wife, and gazes deeply into my eyes. I’m almost sure it’s a romantic gesture, except that he doesn’t follow it up with a kiss.
“So you’ll extend your protection?” I push for clarification.
“He’ll be a member of the family,” Francisco swears.
“Good,” I say, drawing a breath to keep moving on. “Next, I’d like your assurance that you won’t keep me here in the house. I want my own career. I’m very adamant about that. It’s a deal-breaker if you want me to give up my life entirely.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he says. “I have some connections with several universities in the area. I can get you an interview or two, or if you prefer, I can assure you a job.”
He studies me, waiting for my reaction. I have to smile. He’s judged me correctly. But I want to move through official channels as much as possible. It would break my heart to have all my colleagues assuming that I’ve only slept my way into their department. Better that I take my chances like a regular professor.
“There’s another thing I’d like to talk to you about,” I say, ignoring his offer to arrange for immediate employment in favor of a bigger topic. “I don’t want to know anything about your business. I don’t want to be involved in any criminal activity. The less I know, the better.”
“Agreed,” he says simply. “I wouldn’t ask you to participate.”
“I mean it,” I insist. “I don’t want to hide anything, or sign anything, or lie to the police.”
“Right,” he replies, squeezing my hand. “I appreciate your honesty, and I won’t ask you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”
I inhale, feeling better about this already. “So, in that case, I would appreciate you introducing me to the right people, but please don’t force anyone to hire me.”
He grins. I feel like we’re two teenagers conspiring to elope. We want to make sure our parents aren’t aware of our plans, but we also need to be practical about where we’re going to live. It’s not like I’m making a deal with the devil, I tell myself. Francisco is just a man, and it’s clear from his body language and his reaction to my list of demands that he cares to some extent, but to what extent I’m not exactly sure.
“I’d also like to go to Italy,” I say.
He seems shocked. He drops my hand and sits back, looking at me with new eyes. I feel a rush of heat in my cheeks and realize I must be blushing. I didn’t mean to shock him, but now that I have, I’m pleased with myself.
“It’s just that until now, I didn’t know I had any family left,” I explain. “I’d like to meet them.”
“Obviously,” he replies. “This marriage is as much about them as it is about us.”
“Right,” I mutter. All the stars are aligning in my favor. He’s said yes to everything I’ve asked of him thus far. I just have one more stipulation, and it’s the hardest one to put into words.
He hit the nail on the head when he said that the marriage is as much about our families in Italy as it is about ourselves. We’re not a traditional couple by a long shot. Though I suspect he has some deeper feelings at play, the only thing he’s said to me thus far is that the marriage is one of convenience and protection. It will bond our two great families and provide assurances for Brandon and me. Beyond that, it seems like an act of charity for Francisco. He’s offered his life in exchange for mine, and I’m honored. But I have to be clear.
“This isn’t a romantic wedding,” I begin, unsure how to even say what I want without insulting him.
He doesn’t respond, which leaves me questioning my own motives. I want to shake him, to ask him the question point-blank. Does he care about me, really care? Is there any shred of honesty in his proposal, or is he as cold as he seems on the outside? Though I can hear the desperation coming through in my voice, Francisco doesn’t react.
“So, I would like it to be…” I’m not even sure what words to use. “I would like sex to be off the table.”
That gets a response from him, though it’s subtle. He raises his eyebrows, but quickly recovers, returning to the neutral expression that he probably uses in his business dealings.