The Unwanted Marriage: Chapter 59

I tap my finger against the table in the conference room, my gaze on the shitty London weather. I should be at home with my wife, but instead, I’m here, negotiating some bullshit deal for Sierra. Why the fuck does she need to buy an office block here anyway?

“I’m afraid we can’t accept your offer, but perhaps we can meet somewhere in the middle?” the CEO of the development firm tells me. Maggie? Margaret? What was her name again? “Might I suggest we reconvene tomorrow? Perhaps we can discuss this more over dinner.”

The way she looks at me irritates me. I never used to mind it — if anything, I’m quite accustomed to charming my way into great deals. But that was before Faye. Now, all I can think about is the disappointed frown she’d have on her face if I smiled back at the lady in front of me.

I rise to my feet and sigh. “No,” I say simply. “I’m sorry to hear you don’t find our offer acceptable. Though Windsor Enterprises would have loved to work with you, it appears that won’t be possible at this time.”

I offer her my hand to shake, and she stares at it with mild panic. It’s obvious she expected me to entertain some ridiculous back and forth before finally agreeing to the price I’ve offered, but I don’t feel like indulging her.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Faye. She seemed fine when I left, but I know her father showing up at our house left her rattled. I noticed her double checking the doors and windows a few times, and she seems easily startled. It’s like she’s expecting some kind of retaliation from Jimmy, and I want to be there to put her at ease.

Mathilda? Marjory? What’s-her-name shakes my hand reluctantly while I ignore my secretary’s displeased gaze. What’s the point of being a billionaire if I can’t even go home to my wife whenever I want? Hell, I only do this job out of duty to my family, and I know they’d understand. Sierra isn’t going to care if she misses out on this office block — unless Xavier snaps it up instead. I’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t needle her unnecessarily. Getting a reaction out of her seems to entertain him endlessly, perhaps because he doesn’t have a sister of his own. He needs to knock it off before he finds out the hard way just how psychotic baby sisters can be.

“Dion,” Maria says as I walk out. I sigh as I glance back at her, already annoyed when she’s barely spoken a word yet. “She would’ve come round, and you know it. This is a great deal. Sierra isn’t going to be pleased if she hears you backed out of this without good reason.”

I raise a brow and clench my jaw, irritation running down my spine. “Since when do I work for my sister? And at what point did you gather the courage to speak on her behalf like you know her at all?”

Maria blinks and shakes her head. “I didn’t mean it that way,” she says hesitantly. “It just feels like you’re walking out of these negotiations prematurely.”

“Last I checked, that was my call to make. I don’t recall second-guessing my decisions being part of your job spec.” She falls silent as my driver holds the car door open for us, her expression guarded. “Look, Maria. I appreciate you as an employee, I truly do. But you need to understand this is not a partnership.”

Sometimes, she acts like we’re Luca and Val, and we will never be like them. Theirs has always been a true partnership, both at work and outside of it, but the boundaries between Maria and me have never blurred — not on my part, anyway.

“You’ve changed,” she says, her voice soft, disappointed.

I lean back and glance out the window. “I should hope so,” I tell her. “I’ve never felt more like myself than I do these days. I’m no longer going through the motions, obsessed with work merely because it was an escape. You have no idea, Maria. I used to love going to sleep more than anything, because it meant a few hours of peace on nights my nightmares would spare me. Now? Now I’m scared I’ll blink and miss a moment I want to commit to memory. When I married Faye, I told her I’d start counting my blessings, because that’s what I thought each day with her would be — a blessing. I didn’t realize how true those words would turn out to be.”

She looks so pained that I feel bad for a moment, but it fades quickly. I’m tired of feeling guilty, especially about something so beautiful as my love for Faye.

“You’re in love with her,” she says, her tone bitter.

“Hopelessly so,” I admit.

“Does she feel the same way?”

I smirk then, my heart overflowing with happiness. “Yes. I believe she does.”

Maria smiles back at me, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Do you know what hurts the most? I’ve been trying to make you smile like that for years now, and the mere memory of her does what I never could. I just thought… if I just waited long enough, once your three years with her passed, then maybe you’d finally look at me.”

Regret washes over me, and I force myself to look her in the eye. I suspected she had feelings for me, but I’d hoped she’d get over them once I got married. I’ve never given her hope, or even any indication that I was interested in her at all, because I’m not. I never have been.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I love my wife more than anything, and that won’t ever change. If I have ever done anything to make you believe otherwise, then I sincerely apologize.”

She shakes her head. “No,” she murmurs. “You never have. You’ve never been anything but perfectly professional.” She pulls a hand through her hair and sighs. “Thank you, Dion. I just needed to hear that.”

I nod, uncertain what else to say. She’s been a great team member, and I’d hate for this to change anything between us, but I know it’s inevitable. “My offer still stands,” I tell her. “I’d hate to lose you as my secretary, but if you wish to leave, I’ll write you a glowing letter of recommendation.”

The smile she throws my way seems genuine, and it takes the edge off my discomfort. She’s stood by me for years, both as a secretary and friend, and I’d hate for her to feel entirely unvalued simply because I can’t return her feelings.

“I think I’m ready to take you up on that offer,” Maria says, her tone carrying a hint of relief.

“I’ll spend our entire flight writing it for you.”

And I do, though I do it with great difficulty. It’s almost as though I’m being punished for ditching work and running home to my wife, because the amount of turbulence that hits us on the way back is positively sickening. It isn’t enough to wipe the smile off my face, though.

No. That doesn’t happen until I walk into our house and find it empty.