A Virgin for His Prize(24)
“I wasn’t negotiating terms when we broke up.” Was it a breakup when the number of dates wouldn’t count all the fingers on one hand?
“Nevertheless, you revealed what it would take to get you into my bed.”
“I revealed that on the way over here.”
His brows rose, his disbelief clear. “Do you honestly believe one night would be enough for us?”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is the point?”
He wanted honesty? She’d give him some truth. “The whole point of one night is because no limited time would ever be enough. I was falling for you a year ago and my heart doesn’t have very far to go before we hit the place of no return. I do not want to fall in love with a man who considers it a weakness, can’t you understand that?”
“Are you so sure you have a choice?”
Crap. That hurt. She gasped with a real live physical pain as the truth of his words sank in.
Nevertheless, she wasn’t taking that lying down. “I think you don’t have a lot to say about an emotion you refuse to feel.”
“We are different people, Romi.”
“No kidding.”
Rather than annoying him, her sarcasm made him smile. And that irritated her.
“You wear your heart on your sleeve.”
“At least I have a heart,” she retorted, stung.
“Yes, you do. A generous one.”
“How can you sound so admiring when you’ve made it clear it’s a trait you don’t actually admire?”
“I never said I found your ability to love a weakness.”
“But for you it would be?” she asked, confused.
“As I said, we are different people. You are willing to risk the pain of eventual separation for the benefit of the temporary emotion.”
“What if it isn’t temporary? What if it never goes away?” That was what scared her the most with him.
Maxwell Black could end up being her one true love. As cheesy as some might consider that, Romi believed in soul mates. Her parents had been.
And while Romi wanted nothing more than to have that kind of love for herself, she did not want to spend the rest of her life grieving for a lost love. Particularly one who had simply walked away.
“There is no actual expiration on the marriage,” he pointed out. “Read the contract.”
“No, because it’s not what you have on paper that worries me. It’s what is going on inside you, Max. You expect to get bored eventually. You expect to walk away.”
“No.”
“But, you said—”
“I acknowledge the probability that our marriage will not last. I do not demand that it end at some point.”
Which was actually a huge departure from his attitude the year before. “I just don’t understand what you hope to get out of this.”
“Your body.”
All the air really left the room this time, Romi’s vision going black around the edges.
With a muttered Russian imprecation, Max jumped up and then he was there, holding her so she would not slide sideways out of her chair.
Her fuzzy gaze settled on the Tiffany ring box. That did not help her sense of disorientation.
“You need to finish eating. We will continue this discussion after you have done so.”
“You think I’m suffering low blood sugar?” she asked with a near hysterical laugh.
First of all, she was almost finished with her salad—even if it had been appetizer-sized—and a piece of flatbread. Second of all, his words were the problem. Not the food, or the fact she hadn’t eaten all of it.
“You are suffering something. Now, eat.” He removed the dome covering her plate and traded it for the salad plate before going around the table to do the same for his own lunch.
Certain she couldn’t eat any more, half of Romi’s artichoke-and-egg-white quiche and its accompanying slice of melon was gone before she realized she was wrong.
She stared across the table at Max, unaccountably cranky that he might have been right. Sometimes she needed protein and the fact he’d taken note of that during their brief time together made her feel strange.
That didn’t make the topic of their conversation any more normal, either. “So, if I don’t marry you, you’re going to take my father’s company, thereby triggering Maddie’s crazy fail-safe and just in case that’s not enough, you’ll revoke your support of my dad going into rehab?”
Repeating it didn’t make the threat any less outrageous than when he’d made it, or any easier to understand.
Max didn’t even flicker an eyelid. “Yes.”
“What does that make you?”
“The winner.”
CHAPTER SIX