"I know. But this … this is doomed if we stay mired in our old habits."
"What 'this'? We don't even have a year left. Can't we just get along until the contract's over?"
His entire body goes rigid, and I know I've made a mistake … although I'm not sure exactly how. My unease intensifies when a small muscle in his jaw flexes, and an impenetrable shutter comes over his gaze.
Abruptly he rolls over and sits up, his spine stiff. I pull myself up as well, a hand on my throat. I feel cold without his body heat enveloping me. The air between us crackles with tension, and I realize with shock that I'm shivering.
"I've come to a decision." Instead of making me feel better, his terse announcement twists my gut until I feel nauseated.
I wait for him to continue, but when he merely taps his fingers on his legs, I prompt, "Okay … "
"I want us to tear up the marriage contract."
A gasp rips from my throat. Dread floods through me like icy water, swiftly followed by anger.
He circles my wrist with his hand. "Before you jump to conclusions, Belle, I'm not asking for an immediate divorce."
My pulse is still erratic, but I watch him, sitting tight for an explanation.
"We did this all wrong from the very beginning. I see that now." His voice is quiet and firm. "I want to start fresh."
Elliot … "We tried that already. Even talked about it last weekend."
"No. There could never be a new start with the contract hanging over us."
A realization strikes me. "If this is about that one-time indiscretion … "
A dark brow quirks in a silent question.
"I doubt I'll get pregnant."
The incredulity crossing his face is absolute as he shakes his head. "That has nothing to do with what I'm proposing."
"Then why?" If an unintended pregnancy isn't a factor in his decision, I don't know what is.
"It's … " His throat works. "Belle, I want more than a year with you."
Thoughts and contradicting emotions ram into me. He reaches over and takes my limp hand in his. Uncertain hope flickers in his gaze.
I look down at our linked hands. His long, strong fingers stroke the stunning six-carat diamond he gave me. If he'd asked me two weeks ago, I would've jumped at the chance. But now …
"I don't know if that's a good idea," I murmur finally. "We both have really complicated baggage. I don't want to live my life wondering if something else from my past is going to set you off, and I'm sure you don't want more of my ugly history to become public and embarrass you and your family."
"I don't give a shit what other people think. You should know better than that. I released a sex tape, for god's sake."
"But you did it on your own terms. Dirt on me won't be like that." Annabelle Underhill vowed she'd dig until she found all there was to know. I have no doubt she'll follow through and make my life hell. To be honest, I have no idea how Elliot will react … but based on how he was about Mr. Grayson, it won't be pretty. And I can't bring myself to tell him every little thing I might've done wrong in my life in a bid for potential damage control.
His fingers tighten around mine. "Belle, don't. What the media says won't make a particle of difference. I mean it."
Looking into his earnest face, I know he isn't lying. He truly believes he doesn't care.
"If it's about the million dollars, don't worry," he continues. "It'll be yours with or without the contract … although without the contract, I can keep providing for you and your sister."
The only thing I need for the courage to rip up the contract is his love. He's too smart not to know that, but instead he's offering money. It's as though he can't bring himself to offer me his heart, and that makes mine ache.
He brings my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. "I think we can be happy together. I wouldn't be asking if I didn't."
I study him. I don't know how he thinks he can be happy tied to a woman he doesn't love …
… and I can't be happy tied to a man who doesn't love me.
Chapter Eighteen
Annabelle
Elliot's eyes narrow as he studies me. Grim determination radiates from him like a palpable energy field, and I hold my breath.
He places his hands on both sides of my head, effectively caging me. The muscles in his shoulders shift and coil as he lowers his head until his nose almost touches mine. My mouth goes dry, and I flick my tongue over my lower lip.
His eyes flare.
I wait, shaky and unsure. Something's shifted between us, and his proposal to rip up our contract is a huge step. But I can't think when he's this close, and his darkly masculine scent short-circuits my thought process. Tension stretches between us, and I-