“It would be great if we could remember what it was,” Stella snaps, folding her arms across her chest.
“Well, I think I know what my motivations were.” I take her in from head to toe, still gorgeous despite the circumstances. “I mean, first of all, you’re stunningly beautiful and incredibly accomplished. You’re a catch, Stella. Undoubtedly.”
She points an accusatory finger at me, calling out my game, even if I’ve done nothing but speak the truth. “Flattery is always appreciated but willnotget you anywhere right now.”
“Understood.” I almost snort, though I make myself plow on instead. “Second of all…do you remember me telling you how my parents want me to marry Figgy?”
It takes a beat, but Stella puts my clues together and scoffs. “What, you thought that ifwegot married, they would stop pushing you toward her?”
I nod, becauseyes, I’m almost positive that’s what I was thinking last night. “Look, my family cares more about the illusion of me settling down than me actually doing it,” I explain. “If I showed up with a wife, especially one as perfect as you, the hounding would end, and Figgy could finally move on and find her own happiness elsewhere.”
Plus, if I showed up with a wife, maybe—just maybe—it might be something to endear me to some of the people who’ve taken to hating me. But if I admit that all of this was one big mistake instead and leave a woman who’s already been jilted once…Well, I wouldn’t blame anyone for loathing me more.
Stella’s squinting, like she’s trying to judge whether this is a strong enough reason for me to have proposed to her. Her silence lasts so long that sweat beads on my forehead. I’m about to get shot down—hard.
“I could see you married to a woman named Figgy,” she finally says.
It’s so matter-of-fact and unexpected that I have to run my tongue over my teeth to stifle my amusement, knowing she won’t appreciate it in a moment like this. But she’s so unintentionally funny that I can’t help it. I don’t even mind that her jokes are almost always at my expense.
“I’d rathernotbe married to a woman named Figgy,” I say as solemnly as I can. “Which is likely why I chose to marry you instead.”
She gives a disbelieving laugh this time, shaking her head. “Okay, sure. If that was your reasoning, then what the hell was mine?”
I try to think back to any of the conversations we’d had at that point in the night, but it’s all jumbled and incoherent. I have to come up withsomething, though, or else she’s going to walk out of this room and take my chances of fixing my Figgy and F1 problems with her.
“You said you wanted to show your ex you could move on,” I lie, though something niggles at the back of my mind that tells me it’s not too far off from the truth. “You wanted him to see how easily you could find someone else.” I pause, desperate to come up with more reasons why she’d want this, because I can’t imagine simple spite would be enough. “You also mentioned that your board members would prefer to work with a married woman instead of a single one. That being married would show that you could really commit to something.”
I know I’m pulling that reason straight out of my ass, but itcouldbe real. I’ve seen it happen before. My eldest sister was always passed over for opportunities at our family’s company until she showed our father she could “settle down” and “be serious,” even though she was the most qualified candidate for the roles. Maybe Stella doesn’t have the same problem, considering she’s the big boss, but the way her expression darkens tells me I might have hit a nerve.
“Staying together could be good for us both,” I urge, careful to keep my voice low and soothing. “We could just think of it as a business arrangement. It doesn’t have to be forever—just long enough for the heat to pass and for us to fix our problems.”
Stella stays quiet. Dare I say it, but I think she’s actually considering my offer. If I could just—
“This is a terrible idea,” she says forcefully a moment later, dashing my hopes. “If we stay married, people are going to think I was cheating on my fiancé the whole time!”
It’s a very fair point, considering that breakup happened only a couple of weeks ago. Most people don’t move on to their next committed relationship so quickly, unless something shady was already going on.
There’s a twisting in my chest telling me to drop this. My life is too much of a mess to drag Stella into it anyway, and she isn’t even aware of how bad it is. She doesn’t deserve to be led unknowingly into the disaster.
Besides, maybe going our separate ways could still be a good thing. Maybe this drama will distract everyone from what I said about Lorenzo. As it stands, our wild night out is already replacing the previous headlines. Sure, it’s once again not a great look for me, but I’d rather it be news about this mess—followed by the reveal of my quickie wedding and annulment, if we can’t keep it secret—than me wishing death upon someone.
But as my phone continues to buzz, Figgy’s picture reappearing, I can’t help but try one last time.
“There are worse things for people to think,” I push. “This could just be one of thosewhen you know, you knowsituations.”
The look I get this time is pure disgust. “You can’t be serious.”
“Okay, yeah,” I concede, sighing. “I don’t love that either.”
Eventually, her disgust fades and steely determination returns. “Even if wedidstay married, we don’t have a prenup,” she points out. “That could make things messy in the end. I have no interest in that.”
“We could do a postnup,” I suggest, though I never thought any woman I married would be worried about that. Between my personal wealth and my family’s,Ishould be the one who’s concerned. “Simply agree that our assets stay our own.” I take another breath, prepared to press one last time. “I really do think we can make this work, Stella.”
I’m watching the cracks appear in her armor, my words seeping through and reaching her heart. She’s considering it, teetering between giving in and shutting it down. What’s it going to take to get her on my side?
Unfortunately, before I can offer up anything else, she shakes her head and steps back, arms tightening around herself.
“No, I can’t do this,” she blurts, looking anywhere but at me. “Everything last night…That’s not actually who I am, Thomas. I don’t roll with the punches, and I definitely don’t take up men I barely know on offers to stay married.”
