When they told me my fiancé was nine years older than me, I looked at Aunt Fia as if she had announced I was being married off to something recently excavated from beneath a museum. “Nine years?” I said. “That isn’t an age gap. That’s a guided tour with complimentary headphones.”
Chapter 4
That night, after the donors left, I found Adrian alone in the west corridor.
The restored panes reflected moonlight across the stone floor. Newly planted night-blooming flowers had opened in the experimental beds, filling the air with a faint sweet scent.
For once, there were no lawyers.
No family.
No audience.
Just us.
“I thought you wanted a decorative wife,” I said.
He turned.
“I wanted Red Fox’s mind before I knew Red Fox was you.”
“That is an alarmingly effective sentence.”
“It’s true.”
I leaned against the iron rail.
“You’re becoming difficult to return.”
“I kept the receipt.”
“I’m sure Aunt Fia forged it.”
“She said all engagements are final sale.”
I laughed.
He moved closer, but not too close.
That mattered.
“I don’t want to stand in front of you, Leah.”
“Good. You’re tall and would block the view.”
“I want to stand beside you.”
“That sounds suspiciously romantic.”
“I can insult the curtains if it helps.”
I looked at the nearest velvet drape.
“They are terrible.”
“They look like they lost a lawsuit.”
I smiled.
“Better.”
Then his expression softened.
“I mean it. Your work remains yours. Your name remains yours. I won’t use marriage to make you smaller.”
I swallowed.
“No decisions for my own good?”
“Not without giving you the opportunity to call them stupid.”
“No secrets?”
“Not unless they involve birthday cake.”
“No decorative wife?”
“I’m fairly certain you would weaponize the decorations.”
“Correct.”
He smiled.
“You’re very annoying.”
“You smile when I am.”
“Stress response.”
“Should I document it?”
“If you involve your lawyer in our flirting, Aunt Fia will adopt you.”
“She already sent me Christmas pajamas.”
I stared at him.
“That woman moves frighteningly fast.”
“So do I.”
Then he kissed me.
Not dramatically.
Not like a man claiming something.
Like a man asking a question and waiting long enough to hear the answer.
I kissed him back.
From somewhere down the corridor came Aunt Fia’s voice.
“I did not choose you a husband, Leah. I chose you a co-conspirator.”
I jumped away from Adrian.
“Were you hiding behind another plant?”
Aunt Fia emerged from beside a palm.
“This one is taller. I appreciate variety.”
Adrian looked entirely unembarrassed.
“Thank you, Aunt Fia.”
“Do not encourage her,” I said.
“She gave me you.”
Aunt Fia pointed her cane at him.
“Good answer. Keep him.”
I groaned.
But I already knew I would.
