Page 21 of Older Hotter Grumpier
What did Severino say?In love.
Oh triple yikes, Rafe is going to be mad at his brother for that.
“A very generous engagement gift, Mr Blackwood.” The head teacher’s excited voice interrupts my thoughts. “Very generous. Thank you so much. I’m sure you’ll be very happy.” She babbles on.
With an impatient snap of his eyes, Rafe lifts the massive canvas from where he leaned it against his chair and sort of slings it over his shoulder.
“Come on.” He grabs my hand, and everyone is staring, with some amused looks and some scandalised, as he drags his new painting and his fiancée away, both possessions equally helpless to resist.
“Thank you!” the head teacher calls. “Shall we move onto our next lot? This is work by—”
“Ten thousand,” Severino says loudly. “Can’t have my brother steal all the good shit this evening.”
As the delighted crowd gasps, I glance back. Severino gives me a friendly wink before Rafe pulls me out of the door.
Outside the hotel, the winter night air bites at my bare arms.
Rafe leans in and his warm breath tickles the little hairs next to my ear and sends a frisson of awareness down my spine as we walk out. There, waiting as though they knew, is Rafe’s limo.
And that’s it. Our agreement is all but over.
I’m sick with the inevitability of it. I’m not ready and I don’t want this to end.
One evening as his fake fiancée to keep my job, that was the deal. And with heart-wrenching abruptness it’s finished. I wish we could have danced until dawn. Until midnight at the very least, but no. It’s not even that late and I guess Rafe didn’t enjoy himself since he’s put a stop to it so early.
If I begged and cried and stamped my feet like a toddler, would he reconsider? Would he return to the party and be my fiancé for one more hour? I’m addicted already. Mr Blackwood as my boss is hot, but as my future-husband, luring me in with little touches and sweet gestures?
Disaster.
Rafe seriously expects me to go back to calling him Mr Blackwood and organising his diary, and never think of the night that he laughed with me, and whispered flirty, filthy words in my ear about breeding, gave me champagne and a beautiful dress and made me feel like I was his singular, special fiancée rather than his little virgin assistant.
This is impossible. I can never go back. I’m ruined for life and if I have to be just his secretary again, I’d rather eat ice cream and cry on my own for the rest of my life than face Mr Blackwood being harsh to me every day and remember the one night when he said I was lovely.
So when he opens the door to the sleek black limousine for me, I stop and shake my head.
“I resign.”
8
RAFE
Up until this moment, I wasn’t sure. I thought perhaps this evening could be enough for me, that I could end it and accept Ella was only mine for a night.
Nope.
She’s mine from now until eternity.
“You’re not resigning.”
“Yes, I am.” She shivers in the cold, and I’m not thinking straight as I strip off my dinner jacket. I should just bundle her into the car, but instead I nod to my man to pick up the enormous canvas and remain here in the crisp, chilly London night air, pretending that Ella has a choice.
She grumbles like a disgruntled kitten as I cover her.
“I can’t take this.”
“Yes, you can. And you’re not resigning,” I say more gently, running my hands over her shoulders in the oversized coat.
She tears herself away from me, crossing her arms. But I notice she snuggles into the warmth of my jacket.
