Risk (It's Complicated Book 2) (35 page)

“You can marry me.”

A
ngela heard his words
, but they didn’t penetrate her understanding any more than a skipped stone penetrates a frozen lake. If she hadn’t been so shocked she might’ve accused him of making a very bad joke, but one look at his strained, waiting face told her he didn’t think marriage was a laughing matter any more than she did.

Her foolish little girl’s heart, having waited thirty-four years for this moment, her first and only marriage proposal, nearly exploded out of her chest. Too bad it didn’t realize that the details were unlike anything she’d ever imagined. She’d always pictured a candlelit ballroom or a beach at sunset, not her dead sister’s house. She’d pictured an older man, some suit-wearing J.D., M.D. or other professional with a string of letters after his name. Most importantly, she’d pictured declarations of undying adoration as she giddily shrieked
yes
.

She had not pictured a devastating young womanizer in jeans who’d never even said he loved her.

“You...you want to marry me?”

“Yes,” he said quietly.

Her silly heart rose and soared free, like a kite breaking away from its string. Meanwhile, her head screamed a warning that she couldn’t do it because he didn’t really mean it, other than as a temporary solution to their Maya issue.

The two parts of her bickered back and forth.

Heart (giggling): Maybe he
does
mean it. Maybe he
loves
me!

Head (frowning and wagging a finger): Justus doesn’t want to get married, girl. You know better.

Then, just for kicks and giggles, the lawyer in her piped up, demanding the answers to a few pertinent questions as though she was taking a deposition:

“You want to marry me because of Maya, right?”

He stared at her, a thousand unrecognizable emotions scrolling across his face as he filtered his words, throwing some away and choosing others.

“Yes,” he said finally. “Partially.”

A small piece of her heart—well, not so small, really— withered, turned to black, and died like a frostbitten finger. Disappointment nearly choked her. What a foolish, foolish woman she was. Too stupid to live. Truly. With a towering intellect like this, it was a wonder the state supreme court had issued her a license to practice law.

Why else would Justus want to marry her? Because he’d fallen passionately in love with her? Like Ronnie? What a laugh!

How many times would she have to learn this one painful lesson? How many times would she have to be slammed over the head with the same information before it finally sank into her thick skull? Men simply did not fall in love with her. Nor did they want to marry her—not for the traditional reasons, anyway. It just didn’t happen.

Period.

Struggling to keep her features even, she rose tiredly to her feet and climbed down the steps, making sure not to touch him. Once she hit the open foyer, she paced because she was way too agitated to sit still.

“That’s no reason to get married, Justus.”

“Maya’s a great reason to get married.”

“It would never work.”

Still sitting, he twisted around to watch her. “We could make it work.”

Their gazes locked and held with a thrilling jolt that sent a surge of adrenalin through her. Turning quickly away from his determined gaze—it was like he was some gross anatomy student, dissecting her thoughts while she lay on his stainless steel table—she struggled to keep her composure even though she could barely breathe. Why was it so hot in here? Reaching up a hand to rub her forehead, she realized distantly that it was shaking.

“Why should you make such a sacrifice for Maya?” Lawyer Angela demanded.

“It’s no sacrifice.”

“Don’t say that!”

They both flinched at the rising hysteria in her voice. Justus froze and tracked her movements the way a circus trainer does while in the cage with his tiger. Angela rubbed her forehead again, realized she was doing it, and crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

Why couldn’t she
think
?

The air in the foyer was thick now, stifling. Like trying to breathe fudge. The powerful urge to throw open some windows to let in the cold night air or, better yet, just fling open the door and run away into the night was almost undeniable. Fighting hard to get a grip on herself, she managed half a strangled breath, terrified she was on the verge of a panic attack at best or a heart attack at worst.

“Don’t say that,” she said again, calmly now. “You’ve told me before you don’t want to get married—”

“I changed my mind.”

He surged to his feet, took two long strides, and stopped right in front of her. He was way too close. When she took a hasty step back, he clamped his hands on her upper arms, rooting her in place.

Stooping down, he stared at her with glittering eyes.

“
I changed my mind
.”

Invisible hands reached into her chest and wrung her heart like a wet washcloth.

“There’s more to marriage than great sex and making a home for Maya, Justus.”

Anger flared in his dark eyes. His jaw tightened. They were swimming in dangerous, shark-infested waters, she realized, with a riptide thrown in for good measure. This shit was getting real.

Their lives were on the line here.

So was Maya’s.

“I know that,” he said, his voice low and measured.

Why was he doing this? Why was he pretending he wanted to go down this road with
her
?

“Yeah? We have nothing in common other than Maya. What about that?”

His mouth twisted. “That’s not true. But even if it were, I wouldn’t care.”

God, he looked like he meant it. She struggled to break away—the air was so close in here now that she wanted to tear her clothes off her body—but succeeded only in getting him to tighten his fingers until they dug painfully into her arms.

“This is so ridiculous!” she cried, incredulous, to the ceiling. Was anyone up there getting this? Did God think this whole
marry me
routine was as funny as she did? “What about children?”

Without one second’s hesitation, as if he’d already thought about it, he said, “We’ll have them as soon as possible. At least two. If I had my way, we’d start on that tonight.”

A sudden surge of blinding rage gave her strength. With one great wrench, she freed her arms, forcing him to stagger back a step. Why was he doing this to her? Why was he putting her through this agony of pretending to want what she wanted?

What had she done to deserve this torture?

“You’re a liar!” she shouted. “I guess next you’re going to claim you’ll be faithful to me even if this little marriage of convenience lasts sixty years!”

He looked her right in the eye and didn’t blink. “I
will
be faithful to you.”

She laughed bitterly. “I’m seven years older than you, Justus! Did you think about that? And—”

“Yes.”

“—what happens in a few years when I’m forty-seven and you’re only forty, and some hot little half-dressed twenty-five-year-old wants you to ‘train’ her?” She made quotation marks with her fingers. “Huh? What about that?”

Justus stilled, staring disbelievingly at her, his thick brows sunk so low over his eyes she wondered how he could still see. The harsh silence that followed only made her seem all the more manic in contrast.

“I thought,” he said so quietly she had to strain to hear him, “you knew me a little better than that by now.”

The insulted note in his voice deflated her anger and almost made her feel ashamed for doubting him and putting her mistrust front and center. Her defiant gaze wavered and fell. But then a picture of Janet flashed through her mind, strengthening her determination to trust her instincts. Turning, she walked back to the steps and sank down again before her legs gave out from under her. She propped her elbows on her knees and dropped her head in her hands, pressing her palms to her temples.

Then she looked up at him. “Have you ever been faithful before?”

His gaze wavered.

“Of course,” she muttered.

“I’ve never been in a committed relationship before, Angela.”

“Yeah, well, why don’t you give one a test run before you start talking marriage?”

“That’s what I’ve been doing.”

She couldn’t think of any response to that.

Deadlocked, they stared at each other. Angela desperately tried to read his expression and figure out why he was doing this—what he could possibly hope to gain—but the only thing she saw on his face was determination.

At last he moved to the foot of the steps, his fists shoved deep in his pockets. “I thought you wanted to get married.”

The taunt was subtle but unmistakable. Though his face was bland and lamblike in its innocence, she knew the wolf was still there somewhere. She had the feeling he wanted to provoke some sort of admission out of her—about marriage, of course, but about some other, still unidentified thing, too—and wouldn’t stop until he did.

Whatever else was going on here, there was no point denying she wanted marriage. But, foolish as she was, she still held out hope that one day she’d get a legitimate proposal—one given freely and joyously, without duress.

Not like this. Never like this.

“I do want marriage. To the right man, when the time is—”

She could have bitten off her tongue even before she saw the pain—naked and raw—flash across his face. Just as quickly, his broad shoulders squared off and his lip curled into a sneer.

“Well,” he said mildly, “since you were so desperate to marry Ron you’d have hopped the next plane to Vegas if he’d bothered to ask you, which he
didn’t
—”

She flinched as if he’d called her a
bitch
.

“—and since you can’t seem to come up with excuses fast enough, I can only conclude you’re just not woman enough to tell me I’m not the right man.”

Tears of humiliation burned her eyes, leaving her half blind. For added embarrassment, her lower lip trembled, as did her chin.

Luckily, her remaining ounce of dignity helped her stare him down.

“I may be desperate,” she said quietly, “but I’m not desperate enough to marry a man who doesn’t love me.”

Justus gaped at her. He took two steps closer, stopped, then wheeled away to pace the foyer in long, restless strides. Finally he came back and held his hands out, palms up.

“Is
that
what this is about?” he cried incredulously, as if he’d made a miraculous discovery along the lines of gravity or electricity. “
Love?
”

Her pride still gravely wounded, she could only nod. Dropping her head, she swiped at her eyes. “Among other things, yes.”

Justus stilled. “Do you still love Ron?”

Sensing the direction the conversation could take, she watched him warily. Deep in her belly, a knot of dread—and fear—pulsed to life. She opened her mouth, but her voice took several long seconds to activate.

“No.”

His eyes widened fractionally, but other than that he stood frozen. No, not entirely frozen—she saw the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

“Do you...love me?”

The fear in her belly exploded, sending shards of doubt and panic to every corner of her body. Her erratic heart began to skip every other beat and then lapsed into a frenetic rhythm that should have sent her to the hospital in full cardiac arrest.

Did she
love
him? Was he kidding?

Was it possible he didn’t read her feelings on her face every time she looked at him? And did he think she went wild in bed like that for any man who happened to pass through?

Of course she loved him. She loved his mischief, kindness, and compassion. She loved his strength and determination. Whenever she thought about how he’d put himself through school and built his club, her heart swelled to bursting with pride. She loved him beyond all reason—enough to give herself to him even though she was positive he’d one day break her heart by leaving her for someone else.

Look how coldly he’d walked out on her after they had sex the other night.

Talk about
wham, bam, thank you, ma’am
.

Don’t worry. I was just leaving
, he’d said, seconds after screwing her senseless, just as she’d been about to throw everything she’d said out the window and ask him to stay.

She knew all that, and yet her desire to be with him for however long it lasted trumped her fear of being hurt.

Did she love him? Please.

Staring into his strained, hopeful face, her fear wouldn’t let her bridge the chasm between them, no matter how great the potential rewards. How could she go out on that limb when Justus clearly wasn’t there with her?

“I don’t know,” she lied.

His shoulders slumped and the hopeful light in his eyes died. Nodding as if she’d only confirmed what he’d suspected all along, he started to leave.

But then he leaned his head on the door for a second.

What the—?

Was he praying? Gathering strength?

“Justus?”

He hurried back and sank to his knees in front of her on the steps. Grabbing her hands, he ignored her surprised cry and pulled them to his chest, where she felt his powerful heart pounding every bit as hard as hers.

“Here’s what
I
know, Angela. I know we belong together. I’ve known since I was seventeen that there could never be another woman like you in my life.”

Angela shook her head and shrank away from him. How could he do this to her? How could he plant this insidious little seed in her mind—a life with him, Maya and their own children, living happily ever after—when they both knew, or should know, that it would never work?

But why was she surprised? She should’ve known from painful past experience that he’d play whatever dirty little tricks he thought were necessary to achieve his goals.

“No,” she said.

“I can’t raise Maya without you, Angela.” He paused. Tried to smile and faltered. Tried again. “I’d never want another woman to be pregnant with my child—”

“
Don’t
,” she said, agonized by the knowledge that Justus would surely give some lucky woman beautiful children. Not her, though. Never her. And what a disgusting trick for him to use her personal Kryptonite against her like this.