Chapter 13

13

Mira

"What?" I jump up so quickly my chair almost topples over, except he grips it and straightens it.

"What do you mean, it’s you?"

He rounds the conference table until he’s standing on the opposite side of the room from me.

"You know what I mean."

"No, I don’t." I turn on my father who’s examining the carpet at his feet, because apparently, that’s more interesting than confronting the future that lies ahead for me.

"Dad, what’s he saying?"

My father sets his jaw. His lips thin but does he speak? Of course, not.

"Dad? Please, say something, please."

My plea must get through to him for he slowly raises his eyes, and then I wish he hadn’t, for the expression on his face confirms my worst fears. "No, no, no, no."

"I’m sorry, Mira." An anguished expression comes over his features. "So sorry."

The fact that my father called me Mira, a name he’s eschewed in favor of the more formal Mirabelle, confirms to me everything Edward said is true. That, and the fact my father looks torn. Cyril Young is too set in his ways. Too confident in his ability to make money, to steer the des tiny of his company and his employees and his family, to ever show any emotion or resort to niceties. The fact he apologized to me earlier is a sign the deal is done, and while he may not be in favor of it, as evinced by his reluctance to tell me about it, the fact is ,he’s here. And we’re talking about my future— my future—like it’s a business transaction.

"How much did he pay for you for the deal?"

My father flinches, but he doesn’t deny it. He. Doesn’t. Deny. It.

"No." I begin to shake my head. "No. No. No." My knees give way. I sink down into the chair, and suddenly, Edward’s standing next to me. He snatches up a bottle of water from the table, twists open the cap, pours it into a glass, and offers it to me. "Drink."

I shake my head.

"Belle," he lowers his voice to a hush, then holds the glass to my lips, "drink it. Now."

I take the glass, ensuring not to touch his fingers, then take a sip, another.

"Drink all of it." There’s a command in his voice which insists I obey. I drain the water like the dutiful wife-to-be that I am, then place the glass on the table with a soft thunk. Is this my future? To obey him? Is that why he’s committed to this alliance?

"Why?" I address my question to my father. "Why him?"

My father’s shoulders stiffen. There’s a look on his face I can’t quite interpret. One that’s a mixture of anger and irritation and helplessness. I’ve never known my father to be helpless. Never known him to be this silent. It’s as if he’s unable to form the words. "The least you owe me is an explanation."

Next to me, Edward stays motionless. His attention is on me. I feel his gaze on my face like he’s run his knuckles down my cheek. Heat suffuses my skin. The hair on the back of my neck rises. It’s like I'm caught in a quagmire of emotions that's pulling me under.

"Dad,"—I swallow—"tell me."

He blows out a breath. "I needed the money."

"Money?" Of everything he could have told me, that was not what I expected. "You are a billionaire many times over. Why do you need the money?"

"I was a billionaire many times over." He looks away, then back at me. "A few of my investments in the last six months did not deliver the way they should have. I lost a lot of money. Enough that when Chase, here, approached me, I couldn’t say no."

"You approached him?" I turn to meet Edward’s gaze and flinch. The full impact of those smoldering embers which are his eyes sends a shiver of anticipation—no fear, it has to be fear—down my spine. I see the answer in his expression and a slow burn starts somewhere deep in my belly. "Why?" I clear my throat. "Why me?"

"Why not you?"

"There are so many other women out there. Anyone who would fit the bill and would gladly become your wife."

"I chose you."

Something hot coils in my chest. Satisfaction? Pride that he wants me? I could deny it, but the fact is, a part of me is taken aback that he decided on me—the plus-sized woman who's never had a chance to have a boyfriend, or managed to hold down a job long enough to know what it's like to be independent and live my own life. The woman who never knew the love of a mother. Whose own father decided her only worth was to barter her into an arrangement.

"I didn’t choose you." I tip up my chin.

My father exhales sharply. He begins to say something, but Edward shakes his head. My father falls silent. That’s a first. I’ve never seen him not win an argument, but apparently, today is a day for firsts.

The skin around Edward’s eyes wrinkles, then a divot appears on the left side of his mouth, which is how I know he’s smiling. Yeesh, I’ve worked for him only a day and I already know how to interpret his expression.

My father shuffles his feet. He begins to say something, when Edward nods his head toward the door without taking his eyes off of my face. "Leave."

"What?" My father blusters.

"You’ve served your purpose. It’s best you go while you’re still able to walk."

"Are you threatening me?" my father snaps.

"I should do more than that for your being a silent spectator to the emotional agony she was subjected to. In your home. In front of your eyes."

"B-b-b-but—" my father begins to stutter—another first, I’ve never heard him stutter, ever—but Edward shuts him down.

"You’d best get gone before I show you just how angry I am. And I don’t want to do that, not when it’s bound to upset my future wife."

Future wife. Wife? He said WIFE. My breathing grows shallow. Strange tingles make their way down my extremities.

I want to turn and take in the expression on my father’s features. I want to see the regret on his face. I want to hear him admit that he did wrong by me. But a part of me is afraid that I wouldn't see that if I looked at him, so I won't. The way he allowed them to treat me is something I’ve never dared acknowledge to myself before today. Oh, I hoped he’d come to my rescue, that he’d tell my stepmother and half-sisters that I was a part of the family and needed to be treated with respect. I hoped, but never thought the day would come when he’d actually admit he wasn’t fair to me. Not only did he do so today, but he also apologized to me.

And it's because this man put him in a position where he was no longer the most powerful man in the room. Where he was beholden to someone else… And you know what? He's beholden to me. I could have refused the wedding, and where would that have left him? I could still refuse the marriage, but that would mean my father would suffer financially. And while I’ve wanted him to show me his love, even though he never actively defused the situation with my stepmother and sisters, there was never any question he loved me. I can’t stand by and let him face financial ruin. Not while I can make a difference and help him. Before this, I've never had the chance to contribute to our family. This is my chance to impact the outcome for my father in a positive fashion. This is my chance to… Marry this man who’s fascinated me from the moment I set eyes on him. I don’t know him well, but he's not a stranger. As the saying goes, better the devil you know than the one you don’t, right?

"Mira, I?—"

"You need to leave. Right now," Edward says in a voice which sounds casual but which has a steely undertone to it.

My father hesitates, then I sense him getting a hold of himself. "You’d better take care of her."

"You can bet I'll take a damned sight better care of her than you ever did."

"That's not fair. She's my daughter?—"

"She’s not yours anymore. She’s mine."