Page 96 of Grumpy Boss of the Year

“No, you were going to because you brought me here. When did this all happen anyway? I really don’t understand.”

“Can we wait until we get to the hotel and then…” I touch her leg, and she glares at me.

“Get your hand off me.”

“Sorry,” I say, lifting it up. “I just wanted to comfort you. I…”

“I don’t need you to comfort me, Liam, okay? I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, and yeah, I said it. Fuck. F.U.C.K. And I don’t mean in an ‘I want you in my bed tonight' sort of way. I mean, you are a fucking douchebag. How dare you!”

I listen to her and keep my mouth shut. Obviously, she has something to say, and she needs to let it out. I’m going to let her.

“You don’t have anything to say to that?”

“I was letting you speak,” I say. “I thought…”

“You’re such a jackass! Why are you trying to make it seem like you’re doing this for me? Like you’re helping me? You really think this is helping me? You have listened to me go on and on about how upset I am about this, how betrayed I feel, how I’m nervous I’m going to be married off to some old man, how…just everything! I flirted with you, told you that I wanted you to be my last hurrah before I got married, and you knew full well that you were the one I was going to be marrying. What was it? You were going to fuck me here in the Caribbean, and when we got married, it’d be like, ‘Haha, guess we’re fucking again?”

I stare at her and shrug. “I don’t know how to answer that, and I wasn’t marrying you with the intention of…”

“Oh, shut up!” she says, shaking her head. “I’m done with you. Let’s make this clear right here and right now.”

“Okay.”

“I’m not fucking you here in the Caribbean,” she says softly, a sweet smile on her face.

I nod slowly.

“And I’m not going to fuck you when we get married either, so you spent all that money for nothing. I hope you didn’t sign a contract.”

I run my fingers through my hair and shake my head. I’m upset that she’s upset, but I don’t want to voice that. I don’t want any part of her to think that this is about sex. Because it isn’t. I mean, of course, I want to be with her in that way. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. But this is about way more than that, and I don’t know how to explain that to her because I don’t even know how to explain it to myself.

“We’ll be at the hotel in about ten minutes. We can continue talking then.”

“Okay, well, I hope you got me a fucking penthouse suite or something because I’m not staying in a single bedroom in a twin bed or even a queen bed. I want a fucking king-size bed all to myself, and I would like…” She pauses as the taxi driver’s eyes widen.

“You know what? I’m not going to be the one that looks like the jackass here. No, I’m just going to wait until we get to the hotel, and then we’ll continue talking.”

I nod and look out the window. I can hear sniffles coming from Elisabetta. I look over at her in concern. She looks like she’s close to crying. I’ve absolutely devastated her. I feel like shit, but I don’t really know what else to do. I could not have been intimate with her, knowing what I knew. Maybe it was a mistake arranging to marry her. Maybe it was a mistake going through with any of this at all.

I stare at my phone and bring up my emails. Lucinda has sent me the contract from Franco and the dirt that the investigator had brought up. My heart sinks as I realize that there’s another secret Elisabetta doesn’t know, another secret that could possibly devastate her even more than this. And I don’t knowhow to tell her. I don’t know if it’s my place to tell her. In fact, I already promised her father that I wouldn’t. The entire deal would be off if I reneged. I look out the window and stare at the beautiful coconut trees and the people walking down the street. We pass a market, and I can see luscious mangoes and big, juicy oranges on little tables in front of the locals.

“That’s a good fruit market there,” I say softly. “If you want to get some fresh fruit later, we can walk there from the hotel.”

She gives me a death look. “I will not be walking anywhere with you.”

“Okay, if you would like to walk by yourself, there’s a market there. They also have some local delicacies like tamarind balls and cheese straws and…”

“I’ll figure it out when I go. Thank you.”

“You’ll need some local currency and…”

“Oh, you’re going to give me money now? I guess I really am a paid whore.”

“Elisabetta, please, that is just not…”

“Just not what? It’s not what you were thinking when you came to this arrangement with my dad? Like, what the hell? Was this the plan all along? You were going to come to New York and check me out to see if you really did want to marry me? And then when you saw me, and I presented myself to you on a fucking platter on your bed, you were like, 'Oh, yeah, I could fuck her for a couple of years without having to be in love.’ What? You wanted some heirs for your fortune. Is that it? You want me to be a baby-popping machine?”

I blink and realize that she doesn’t understand how all this came to be.

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