“Can I ask you something?” He stood, towering over the desk. Why did it suddenly look so small next to him, and when did he become so intimidating?
“Of course.”
“Why are you marrying me?”
I was too stunned to answer. Was this a trick? Another way to get under my skin or to see where I was at so he could manipulate me?
His eyes focused on mine like he was afraid to turn away.
And I found that I couldn’t lie to him, not anymore. “Because a long time ago I fell in love with a boy who told me everything was going to be okay. And I believed him. And when that boy grew into a man, I lost a piece of him every single day. I said yes, because the stupid girl in me thought it would bring him back.”
“Thank you. For being honest,” he said softly.
I nodded my head. “I learned a long time ago honesty rarely changes anything and usually gets you into more trouble.”
“I appreciate it just the same. Besides, it’s not like either of us has a choice, do we?”
I flinched a bit. “Are you saying you have no choice but to marry me? Romantic. Now if you’ll excuse me . . .”
“Wait.” His massive body moved around the desk and then he was in front of me, cupping my face between his hands, staring at me like I was the answer to everything. “Ask me.”
“Ask you what?”
“Same question.”
“Are you trying to punish me?” Tears filled my eyes. This was the old Julian, this was cruel. I didn’t want his answer, I couldn’t bear it.
“Trust me.”
Shaking, I finally gave in, because I wanted out of his arms, out of that room. I wanted to forget how easy it was for him to hurt me. “Why are you marrying me?”
He tilted my chin up with his forefinger and whispered, “Because I want to spend the rest of my life trying to figure out how to not just make you happy but set you free.”
I gasped. Had he said he loved me, I wouldn’t have believed him. Had he said I was beautiful, it would have fallen on deaf ears.
But he said he wanted my happiness. My freedom.
“Does that mean you plan on doing just that? Setting me free?”
“What if being free means you stay with me?” He smiled and pressed his body against mine, reminding me yet again how good he used to feel, how good he did feel. “Just like this.”
I sucked in a sharp breath when he jerked me against his chest. I leaned up on my tiptoes, but he didn’t meet me halfway. “Julian?”
“Hmm?” Every muscle was taut. His jaw was tight like he was trying not to clench his teeth, trying and failing. “Why aren’t you kissing me? Why haven’t you been kissing me? I mean really kissing me?”
His eyes flickered with something that looked like sadness when he said, “Maybe I don’t feel like I deserve your mouth, not after what I’ve put you through, not after the last few months. Not after . . .” He swallowed. “The shoes.”
“This isn’t about shoes.”
“No,” he whispered, tucking my hair behind my ear. “This is about you coming to me when you’re ready. This is part of freedom, Izzy, giving you the choice, not forcing it on you.”
His words were like a balm to my soul. I stood up on my tiptoes again, ready to kiss him senseless, to thank him for saying that, for finally getting me, for understanding, when the doorbell rang.
He sighed. “We could pretend we’re not home, make out instead.”
I grinned, my fingers gripping the back of his neck, touching his skin, wondering why it felt so much better than before, being this close to him. “Do that and kiss your position as CEO goodbye. This is important to the company, so we’ll go, do our duty, the one bred into you since your dad used to lock you in your room, and get it done.”
Julian’s face paled. “What did you say?”
It was my turn to give him a funny look. “Don’t tell me the accident repressed that memory too?” The doorbell rang again, I started walking away, but he grabbed me by the wrist and held me there. It was another topic he rarely discussed, because it was painful, embarrassing, because it showed me why it was so important for him to prove himself.
“He called you weak, remember?” I whispered, unable to look at him. “You were going through a really hard time. It was your sophomore year of high school, and you started going through this rebellious stage, experimenting with drugs, staying out late, and he started locking you in your room. When you didn’t stop, he pulled you out of school for the rest of the year, got a private tutor, and told you to your face that you would never make him proud, and you’ve made it your mission to prove him wrong.”