Ten minutes later, we're bending over my desk. And not in the pervy way my mind flicks to when I see him lick his lower lip as he scrutinizes what I've written. His mouth drops open ever so slightly before he leans back in his chair, flabbergasted. "What is this?" Wolf asks, confusion clouding his features as he recites what I've written. "Charlotte Wright is under no obligation to fulfill her wifely duties?"
I scrawl something else below the first bullet point, violet ink searing the pristine white page of my legal pad. "Before we draw up the contract," I inform him, "we should define exactly what my role is going to be. My lawyer will want to know."
Wolf scoots forward, peering at the legal pad again. His attempt to read backwards is painstaking and I'm already on the third bullet when he interrupts my train of thought. "Charlotte Wright will not have to share a bedroom or bed with Wolfram van der Waals," he reads out, enunciating each word with excruciating slowness. "You're kidding me with this, right?"
I can sense that I've offended him, but I plough forward. "I'm not getting screwed over because you decide I haven't fulfilled the terms of the contract down to the letter," I reply.
"I'm not going to take advantage of you, Charlotte," he says, a frown creasing his forehead. "Jesus." He reaches out and catches my hand, halting the pen's purple crusade across the page. "Can you at least move over here so I can read the hogwash you're writing?" He doesn't remove his fingers.
This is the first physical contact we've had in five years. It's paltry and impersonal, but alarm bells are ringing faintly in the back of my mind even as my spine liquefies at his touch. My gaze stutters upwards, meeting his eyes. I count each and every one of his lashes in the span of silence that follows. Neither of us moves, unwilling partners in this newest game he's started.
I clear my throat and the moment is broken. He retracts his hand, letting it fall into his lap. There's no way I'm sitting next to him. With the desk separating us, there's a modicum of power that I still wield. I have to remain in control, I convince myself. The moment I falter, I will be lost.
Silently, I spin the page and slide it towards him. He takes it in, then calmly extends his hand for the pen.
Head bowed, he scribbles something in tight, slanted cursive. Wolfram van der Waals will not be subjected to chick flicks, rom coms, or heartfelt Lifetime movies.
Despite myself, my lips quirk upwards. "Seriously?"
He shrugs and cross his legs, setting the pen on top of the pad with a casual elegance.
"Are you taking this seriously?" I demand, frowning at him. He doesn't look like he is. He looks the same as he's always looked - indolent, reserved, indifferent.
Without waiting for an answer I snatch the pen and write down another line. Charlotte Wright will not be required to attend any business or social events on Wolfram's calendar.
He combats me with equal swiftness. Wolfram van der Waals will not be obliged to redecorate his very tasteful apartment to suit Charlotte.
I smile sweetly at him, getting into the game. Charlotte Wright will not have to cook, clean, or pander to Wolfram.
With a glint in his eye, Wolfram adds to the end of my sentence unless Wolf is sick and has no one else to take care of him, in which case he would humbly like to request soup of the homemade variety and hot lemon tea.
At this, a laugh bursts out of me. Making a grab for the pen, I poise it over the page. Then, I glance up, wondering if his icy exterior has chipped away. My jaw goes slack as I realize he's watching me laugh with soft, crinkled eyes and an indulgent smile. It's the kind of smile that Xander has when he looks at Graeme, the kind of fondness that doesn't fade even after two years of dating.
My chest feels tight and my hands are rubbery. The pen slides out of my fingers. Neither of us seems to care as it rolls away, coming to a stop just an inch short of the desk edge. Wolf must surely have noticed me looking, but he makes no effort to pretend. His gaze is open and greedy as he looks at me, unabashed. I feel the strangest desire to tear my eyes away, to pretend that I haven't seen him watching me. As if that will somehow preserve the tenderness of the moment.
"Hey."
Both our heads jerk up. Brett stands in the doorway, her face grimly set. "Charlotte," she says, voice clear, "is everything okay in here?"
Hastily, I nod. "Yeah, B. It's all good."
"You sure?" She casts a suspicious eye over Wolf, whose face has retreated into its indifferent facade. "Because this guy," she says, jabbing her finger at him, "isn't on your books. You don't normally take walk-in appointments."
"It's fine." I widen my eyes at her and cock my head towards the door. Just go.
"We haven't been properly introduced," Wolf says, voice a velvet purr. He stands and moves in front of Brett, hand extended. "Wolfram van der Waals." He glances back at me. "Her...friend."
Five years ago, there may have been a time when I considered him my friend, but now too much distance is between us. It seems almost insurmountable. "Friend" falls short of what Wolfram means to me, and yet I'm still loathe to accept his friendship. And anyway, he's not a friend. Not really. "Friend" would imply trust.
"Wolfram?" Brett's eyebrow shoots up. "Baby, if that's your name, you're definitely not her friend." The last word she hisses like a curse, eying his proffered hand like a leper's limb.
Clearly, I've filled her in on what happened in the Netherlands. That realization crosses Wolfram's face immediately and he lets his hand drop.
"You have an appointment soon," Brett informs me before bustling right back out the door, closing it behind her.
She's lying, but I love her for it. She's just trying to look out for me and giving me an easy, plausible exit is a smart idea.
"She doesn't like me," Wolf states, sinking back into his seat.
"Does that surprise you?" My own hostility surprises me, all traces of our earlier stalemate gone. "I can't imagine that you habitually win over everyone you meet with your charming personality."
"I'll have you know that I am usually not as," he clears his throat, "rude as I was to you in the Netherlands. That was...an extenuating circumstance."
"Uh uh."
"I mean that," he insists, scowling. The movement tugs his lips downwards, drawing my gaze. "I was rude. But only because I thought you were leading Xander on. That you were using him."
Even five years later, I hate hearing those words. Pinching my lips together, I speak through clenched teeth. "And yet, somehow, Graeme apologized to me for that before she and Xander got together. She admitted she was wrong. That you were both wrong."
His jaw clenches. A moment passes where we just stare at each other, our gazes locked like angry bulls. Neither of us is willing to back down.
"Graeme and you...are friends?" he asks, switching the subject to something marginally safer.
I wasn't sure I would ever be friends with Graeme, not real friends. I trust her with Xander's heart, but I am not sure I trust her yet to be a good person. Xander goes a long way in helping her with that, but she is still the girl with a voice sharp as diamonds, cutting deep. Her words aren't aimed at me anymore, but the memory of the things she's said in the past ghosts between us, preventing any real closeness.
"We're not enemies," I reply simply.
"That's doesn't make you friends," he ascertains, reading between the lines.
"It makes her a better person than you," I flare right back.
His face darkens, his eyes turning a stormy, mercurial gray. In his eyes I can see storm clouds rolling overhead, waves crashing on the unsuspecting beach. "She apologized to you and even after two years, you're not really even proper friends," he says, voice quiet. Despite the intensity in his eyes, his words are calm. "If I apologize to you, I aspire to be more than friends. And I don't want to wait two years."
"And you want my guarantee of that?" I quirk my head at him. "There's the infamous van der Waals entitlement I so didn't miss."
"Apologies are meaningless, inconsequential." He waves his hand. "Words."
"They're a start."
"Apologies are the biggest lie of all." Wolf's gaze is so penetrating that I can't look away. "Apologies are for bumping into a stranger on the street. I can't apologize for something I chose to do. Something which I said because at the time, I thought it was true. That would be like apologizing to you for being myself. And I won't do that."
His words make complete sense, which terrifies me. I don't want to imagine a world in which I am anything like Wolf. A small voice inside my head murmurs, but what if you already are?
"I am sorry that you heard what we said, though." His voice is still deceptively gentle. "I didn't intend that. I just...I had to support my sister."
"Yeah," I mumble, glancing down at my lap. "I know." Then my gaze hardens and I look up, my face morphing into the same blandness he taught me to perfect. "Don't apologize to me, Wolf. It's like you said, 'the truth is always preferable to a lie'."
I pick up the pen and write in big, fat capital letters: Charlotte Wright will not be guilted or coerced into accepting anything from Wolfram that she doesn't want to accept. Apologies included.
His retaliation is quick. Wolfram van der Waals will not have to pay for a large wedding.
That one is easy. Since all my clients think I'm already married, there's no way I'm publicizing my lie by throwing a big wedding bash. "Agreed," I say, skimming the list.
The game is no longer fun, so I don't take the pen from him, nor does he offer it.
I know the prudent thing to do would be to take some time to evaluate my decision. Decisions made in haste are often regretted, and after a lifetime of good choices, this would be a pretty poor moment to break my record with a soul-crushing horrible mistake. But I don't want to be afraid anymore - afraid to fumble and fall.
I've balanced the risk and reward. One year of my life in exchange for five million dollars and getting Wolf out my system for good. Truthfully, I would do it even if the money wasn't involved. But I'd rather him think I compromised my pride rather than reveal that I'm not as over him as I'm trying to portray.
"How soon do you have to get married?" I ask, proud that my voice is cool and efficient.
"Three months," Wolf says, tone morose. He shakes his head. "Fucking mental," he adds under his breath. "Don't know what the fool was thinking."
It doesn't take a genius to guess he's talking about his father. Even beyond the grave, Marcus is the puppet master.
I pause in thought, hold my hand out. Silently, he presses the pen into my palm, then watches as I write my last demand beneath his neat cursive. Charlotte Wright will have the option of backing out at any time during and until the wedding day.
Wolf balks, but then I see him bite back his response. He gives me a terse, stiff nod. He doesn't like it, but he understands. He counters with: Wolfram van der Waals will not pay the five million until the marriage vows are exchanged. He will, however, pay for all wedding and living expenses incurred from this point forward.
It's a little galling that he's more generous with his money than he was five years ago with his good opinion of me. I stiffen when I read his addendum. "I have my own money. Don't worry about me."
"The dress and the wedding will be expensive," he says, steepling his fingers together so his joined hands form the shape of a tent. "It's not fair to ask you to bear the burden of that cost when you're doing me the favor."
"I won't accept any money from you, Wolf," I reply, my voice sharp and uncompromising.
He opens his mouth as if to argue, then thinks better of it. "Fine." Giving me a thoughtful look, he picks up the pen and writes down one final sentence.
I lean forward and rotate the legal pad. When I read the words he's written, I suck in a breath, stunned.
Wolfram van der Waals will apologize to Charlotte.
"I am, you know," Wolf says softly, "sorry. Sorry that you heard us talking. Me and Graeme." He reaches back to lightly rub the back of his neck in a self-soothing gesture. "I should have said it before."
"Why didn't you?" I'm not angry, just curious.
"How could I?" His lips curl downwards in a faint frown.
"It's two little words." To emphasize, I say them slowly. "I'm sorry. See? Not so hard."
And then it strikes me. He's not apologizing for talking about me behind my back. He's apologizing that I overheard it at all. One step forward, two steps back.
My phone lights up again, Dash's name across the screen. I slide my pointer finger to the right, rejecting the call.
"Your boyfriend?" Wolf asks, gesturing towards the phone with his thin, artistic fingers. I watch as those same fingers toy with his collar in a gesture I would describe as nervous if I didn't know him better.
I settle on the simplest answer. "A colleague." Dashiell Hardcastle is my employee, but he's also one of my closest friends. He's someone I flirt with, but not someone I would contemplate dating. He's someone I love, but who I am not in love with.
Wolf clearly doesn't believe me. He stares at the phone for a long moment until the screen goes black from inactivity. "Right," he drawls. "A friend."
Switching the subject rapidly, I ask, "So how is this going to work?"
"How will what work?"
"Us. You. Me. Living together." I exhale noisily. "Married."
"My apartment is big enough. I'll convert my study into a guest bedroom for you."
"Thanks. But that's not what I meant," I say, picking my words carefully. "I mean, what about...your needs?"
"My...needs?" Wolf's eyebrows raise, trying to puzzle out my cryptic meaning.
I can identify the exact moment he figures it out. Realization streaks over his cheeks as his face reddens. "Oh," he says, blinking at me. "Those needs."
I can't imagine the blond Adonis across from me staying celibate for a year, and I'm pretty sure that if he's being forced into marriage, Marcus will have been wily enough to ensure fidelity too - or else what's the point?
I clear my throat, feeling awkwardness wash over me. "I assume you've thought this through, Wolf."
Embarrassment forgotten, he chuckles, the sound dark and smoldering. "Of course I haven't."
"Very reassuring." I rub my temples. I can feel the onset of a headache. "Can we wrap this up for now?"
"Are you okay?"
God, he actually looks concerned. "Fine," I manage, summoning a strained smile. "I just think I need some time to process all this."
"Do you want me to leave?" Wolf's face is torn.
"I..." I don't know what to say. Words fail me. Finally, I just nod tightly. "I'll text you after I talk with my lawyer. I'll probably need more details from you."
"Yeah, sure," he agrees readily. "Whatever you need."
"Okay." I don't bother with a goodbye, hoping he picks up on my hint and leaves.
Wolf stands, looking unsure. I can still feel the pin-prickling sensation of his eyes on me. He hovers, hesitating like he wants to say something. "Charlotte?"
"What?" My tone is more curt than I intend it, but the dull throbbing in my forehead and between my eyes is distracting me from the niceties of conversation.
"Thank you."
His words are so simple, yet I feel his sincerity behind the weight of every syllable.
"Yeah," I croak out. "You're welcome."
With one last searing look at me, he glides out of the room, closing the door shut with a soft click behind him. Except for the slight whiff of his scent, the spicy tang of Old Spice, there's no evidence that he was even there at all.
Author's Note: hello, all! :) I know I planned to update this on Friday but I was honestly just so motivated last night I wrote this early and I figured, hey, why not just post it on Wednesday? This may mean that there won't be a Friday update, it just depends on what I have going on.
I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! This is the place where we finally see them speaking frankly instead of the constant push/pull they engage in. Are Charlotte's motivations a little better explored here? Do you like Wolf is making an effort? Basically, I'd love any and all thoughts on the plot and character development.
Thank you for reading! AND FOR GETTING ME TO 5K!!!! I know that seems like such a small number compared to what a lot of other books on here have, but each one of you has helped contribute towards it, and I hope to see that number skyrocket even further!