Page 115 of An Inconvenient Marriage
I didn’t have a problem with driving services, but I did have a problem with Natalie being in a car with a stranger.
“Why don’t you just take one of my cars?”
She choked on air, and after swallowing down three big gulps of water, she stared at me. “You want me to drive your car?”
“One of them, yes.”
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Why not?” Something occurred to me then. “Don’t you know how to drive?”
“It’s not that. I have my license.” Her chest rose and fell with the deep breath she took. “What if I scratch it?”
“I’ll take it in for a paint job.”
“What if I get in an accident?”
“I’ll pray to all things holy you’re unharmed.”
She sighed. “What if I write your car off?”
“I’ll buy a new one.” Reaching across the table, I took her hand. “I can do this all night. The truth is, I’d feel a lot better if you drove rather than spend however many minutes with heaven knows who in a car by yourself.”
I didn’t add that all my cars were fitted with tracking devices. If something happened, I’d know where to find her or at least where to search. I’d probably have to get something on her phone as an extra precaution, too.
Maybe I can do that tonight while she’s asleep?
“Thank you.” Natalie’s soft voice pulled me from my thoughts. “I know you’re doing this to keep me safe from my father.”
And because the image of you alone with another man is filling my head with too many murderous thoughts for my blood pressure to handle.
Since I couldn’t say any of that without sounding like a possessive bastard, I raised her hand and pressed my lips against her knuckles.
“One more thing.”
Releasing her hand, I dug an envelope out of my pocket and slid it across the table toward her.
Natalie eyed it but didn’t pick it up. “What’s this?”
“Open it.”
Her attention switched from the envelope to me, then back to the envelope again. She studied it for a few seconds before slowly lifting it and taking out its contents. She’d barely held the card between her fingers before shoving it back to my side.
“I can’t take that.”
I pushed it back. “You can and you will.”
“Zach.”
She tried to flick it back to me, but I pressed my index and middle fingers down on the card, keeping it in place.
“I don’t want your money.” The way she said it made it sound like I’d insulted her by offering her a credit card.
“You have needs—other than the ones I am capable of taking care of myself—and you yourself told me you have no money of your own. I want you to be able to walk into a store, see something you like, and then buy it for yourself.”
She nibbled on her lip. “But I won’t be buying it for myself if I useyourmoney to do it.”
“Then consider it a loan.” Keeping my gaze on her, I raised my eyebrow. “I’m not taking no for an answer.” My tone was hard. She had to understand this was important and I wouldn’t budge. “When you get this internship you’re aiming for, it’ll be at least two weeks before you get your first paycheck. I don’t want you relying on anyone else but me.”
