“And you’re on the list.”
Someone accomplished and sophisticated who could discuss wine vintages and...wait.
What?
“You’re on the list,” he repeated, watching her face with that same intense focus he used during qualifying laps.
Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. She probably looked like a goldfish having an existential crisis, but her brain had completely short-circuited.
“I don’t...w-what list?” Surely she’d misheard. Surely he meant she was on the list of people to help plan the wedding, or the list of staff to notify, or...
“A list of potential brides my father provided.” He pulled out a folded paper and slid it across the table. “Eight names. Yours is number six.”
She stared at the paper like it might bite her. There, in Selena Cannizzaro’s perfect handwriting, between Ingrid and Perlita, was her name.
Sienah Posada.
The housekeeper’s daughter.
On a list of potential wives for Aivan Cannizzaro.
Her first thought was that this had to be a mistake. Her second was that someone was playing an incredibly cruel joke. Her third was...
Oh.
His father wasn’t horrible at all. His father was brilliant. His father was a visionary. His father was basically a matchmaking genius who deserved a medal and possibly sainthood for having the foresight to include her name.
And yet...
“W-Why?” She had to ask this because it just didn’t make sense. The master’s son and the housekeeper’s daughter?Why? How? What for?Was there some twist he had yet to tell her? Some kind of trap that she couldn’t see? There had to be a catch.Right?
“It’s quite simple.” He leaned back, studying her with those dark eyes that had ruined her for all other men before she’d even had a chance to meet any. “I need to marry. You’re on the approved list. And frankly, you’re the only name that doesn’t make me want to drive into a wall.”
How...romantic?
“I’m also going to be blunt.” His gaze locked on hers, and suddenly the restaurant felt too warm. “I’m aware of your feelings for me.”
Oh no.
Oh no no no.
A part of her had always known she had been about as subtle as a neon sign around him, but to hear it said out loud like that?
I think I’m about to die of embarrassment, God.
So please.
Please tell me I’ll still make it to Heaven if so.
“And I want you to know your feelings won’t be disregarded.”
Her heart, which had been somewhere in her stomach, shot straight up to her throat.
What did that even mean?
Was he saying...
Oh dear God, I honestly don’t understand what he’s saying, but I think it sounds...promising?
