Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol 1) - Page 41

He spoke as if planning a New York wedding in a month was as simple as grabbing a bite to eat.

For the first time, I really considered Nicholas’s wealth. Between his apartment and being able to pay whatever it took, maybe his company was more successful than I’d originally thought. Maybe it was more than a company on the brink of success. Looking back at the view of Central Park, I’d say a lot more.

“So? Are you in?”

He rested his hands on the counter, bunching his strong shoulders under his shirt, the opening shifting to give me a better view of his chest.

“I never thought my fairy tale wedding would be discussed over a contract and granite.”

“It’s marble.”

“Of course, it is,” I muttered.

“If you wait for a fairy tale, you’ll never be happy. I may not be the prince charming you imagined, but I am here offering you what you need.”

My eyes shot from where they ogled his chest to meet his, the setting sun bringing out the hints of green.

“What did you just say?” I asked, barely over a whisper.

Blood rushed through my ears, blending with the memory of my mom’s favorite thing to say when I watched all the Disney princesses.

If you wait for a fairy tale, mia bambina, then you’ll never find happiness. Sometimes Prince Charming is everything you need when you didn’t know you needed it.”

“I’m just saying that it may not be perfect, but you can make it what you need. At the very least, a stepping stone,” he said, shrugging. “So, what will it be, Verana? Will you marry me?”

I didn’t believe in signs, but if I ever did, this had to be it.

I grabbed the contract and slapped it on the counter between us, crossing off the part about consummating the marriage. “Yes. I’m in.”

He merely smiled at my act of defiance as if he didn’t need a contract to make it happen.

“Good. We’ll have an engagement party next weekend.”

“What?” I gasped.

“Does that not work for you? If you have other obligations, we can reschedule. I just have to redraft the contract with your…corrections, then we’ll be good to go.”

To my utter horror, fire burned up my throat to my eyes, and I quickly looked away to hide it. He actually meant it. He really wanted my opinion on our engagement. And after what happened with Camden, and my father, and the last few months in general, it was the most valued I’d felt in a while.

Swallowing my emotions back, I lifted my head with a smile. “Yeah, that sounds fine.”

“Good. Now, let me show you around the apartment. You can move in once we’re married.”

“But what about my place?”

“Do you own it?”

“Yes.”

“I mean, in your name. Not your father’s.”

“Oh. No. He bought it.”

“I’m assuming he won’t be thrilled to have me living there with you. Besides, I’d rather live in a box in an alley than be inside anything owned by Lorenzo. Also, this is close to the office.”

The sneer in his tone made me wonder if there was a bigger reason he disliked my father beyond his abuse and associating with Camden, but he turned away, starting the tour before I could think more about it.

“Good point,” I muttered, looking around—another blast of reality on how my life would change within the month. The comfy gray couch would be mine. The sunsets over Central Park would be my view every night. The sleek kitchen in the fancy apartment in the expensive neighborhood, would be mine.

“What about your place in Charleston?”

“I’ll obviously have to keep it for when I travel to that office. But New York has taken more of my time in the last few years, so it’s not a huge change to make it my home base for the next five years. When things settle down, I’ll take you to Charleston to show you around.”

“I’ve never been.”

“It’s a beautiful city.”

“Will you be happy here? Full time?”

He looked over his shoulder, slowing his pace. “I think I will.”

I couldn’t help but think he meant with me. He thought he’d be happy with me. The idea was crazy. We barely knew each other—barely liked each other. Actually, we didn’t. I’d say we tolerated each other. But still, the way he looked at me now, I couldn’t help but hope our future was the one Mama described.

Of course, he dashed all that by opening his mouth as he turned back to lead the way down the hall. “By the way, don’t be late to work tomorrow. Just because I can take care of you, doesn’t mean I will.”

“Of course,” I muttered, giving in to the eye roll.FifteenNicoMeeting after meeting kept me busy all morning. At least that was the excuse I created. I took on meetings and pushed up others, so I had no reason to leave my office.

Tags: Fiona Cole Blame it on the Alcohol Romance
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