“36,000 dollars,” the elegant female appraiser says.
I take her offer, and she writes me a check. It’s the largest check I have ever held in my hands, but the only thing I can think about is that I still won’t be able to afford both the surgery and my father’s full chemotherapy treatment. I still have my car, and I’ll have to sell the house so any income I make can go into savings. He’ll be devastated. But it’s the price it will cost to save his life.
* * *
I head home, a little more hopeful than before. With this check, I can afford at least three, maybe four months of his treatments and that gives me time to come up with the rest of the money.
Once at home, I find my phone on the kitchen table and see that I have a text message from Michael. My heart rate immediately increases. I’m almost afraid to read it and brace myself for whatever he’s said.
Scarlett, or should I say Samantha?
Jerk. Why does he have to act like he’s five years old all of a sudden?
I’d like to meet to discuss our deal. Are you still willing to consider it? Michael
Oh, thank God. He still wants to go through with it. My heart leaps in my chest, and I feel a whole ocean of worry roll off my shoulders. I suppose he’s still really set on getting that money, which is great for me.
I quickly text him back.
Michael, I’d be willing to meet to discuss the deal, Scarlett
PS: Please refrain from being sarcastic. If we can keep this professional, it will be so much easier for the both of us.
He replies immediately.
Scarlett. I agree. I will be professional from now on. I’m sorry about the dig. May I come over now? I’d like to move ahead as quickly as possible. Michael
He doesn’t beat around the bush, does he that greedy, sexy bastard?
Michael, yes, that works well, Scarlett.
But then I hesitate. He’s coming over? Oh…my stomach does a summersault. I don’t know if I’m ready to see him again. Will I be able to maintain my professionalism? Not get my emotions involved? Absolutely no way. I receive another text message.
Do you mind if I bring Reverend Summerlin so we can get this over with ASAP? I’d like to exclude my family for obvious reasons. Michael
Get this over with? ASAP? This definitely is an I’m-gonna-get-my-money-no-matter-the-cost business deal. How has he suddenly gone from a man who declares he loves me to a man who will completely and utterly crush my heart just so he can get his hands on his money?
I feel the tears pressing, and I despise myself for it. Just don’t think about Michael that way anymore, I tell myself. Yeah, right, my alter-ego yells back at me. Ain’t going to happen.
Then what should I do? What I should do is tell him the deal is off and just figure things out by myself. But in reality, I don’t know how many rounds of treatments my father needs or if I’ll be able to afford them. And if I don’t have this deal…I have to see it through.
Sure. I’ll see you soon.
Scarlett
I don’t know what to do to keep my mind busy while I’m waiting for Michael, and decide to turn on the TV. The local news is on, and of course Michael and my oh-so romantic story has made the headlines.
Billionaire Michael Manning and his fiancé have quite a story. At last night’s Christmas Gala at the Manning residence, Mrs. Manning exposed…
I turn the TV off. I just can’t watch this. It’s too painful, not to mention humiliating. The last thing I want to see is my embarrassed face when Diane brings up The Black Chapel.
I wrap the blanket my mother quilted for me around my body and slowly drift off to sleep.
I’m abruptly woken up by a bang on the door. I sit up and hop off the sofa. Through the window, I see Reverend Summerlin standing next to Michael, and there’s a young man with them that I don’t recognize. Michael looks unusually cheerful, but I know he’s just putting up a formidable façade, pretending to be excited to marry me. My hammering heart reminds me that I’m so not over him. I straighten my hair and check myself in the mirror. I look tired. Definitely not like a bride, and definitely not bursting with joy.
“Welcome,” I say, opening the door with a smile. “Please come inside.”
“Now I remember you.” Reverend Summerlin beams at me. “I saw you in church that one time. How romantic.” Her eyes wander from me to Michael and back to me again. “This is Joseph, and he’ll be witnessing the marriage today.”
I nod to Joseph, a timid young man, and try to give him an authentic smile, but I’m too distraught to even manage. Michael glances at me briefly, but then looks away. His eyes have dark circles underneath, and there is a sorrow in them that wasn’t there before. Oh, God, I still love him! I’m marrying this man today, but it’s only for the money. What could possibly be worse?
Stop, Scarlett.
Your father needs you.
I invite them inside, and we sit down in the living room.
“Tell me more about your story,” Reverend Summerlin says, her green eyes wide and friendly.
“I don’t want to be rude, but we are really in quite a rush. Do you mind?” Michael says.
Reverend Summerlin’s eyes flinch, but then she smiles warmly. “Of course not. Do you have pre-planned vows you’d like to share?” she asks.
“No,” Michael says. “We just wanted to get married quickly and quietly, we haven’t had a chance to plan anything like that.” He laughs, and I think he sounds way over the top. Not such a great actor now, I think.
“I understand,” Reverend Summerlin says with a twinkle in her eyes. “Did you have a certain spot in mind?”
“No, here is fine,” Michael says, gesturing to the open space in front of the fireplace. The place we made love. The place he told me he loved me for the very first time.
Our eyes connect for a brief moment, and I note how his breath catches. Oh, he absolutely remembers. And without my permission at all, heat builds between my legs.
What the hell? This is not the fucking time!
“Then let us begin,” Reverend Summerlin says.
Okay. But wait. There are things we need to discuss before we make our vows. Nope. I’m not going to interfere. I’m not going to interfere, I’m not—Okay, I have to say something.
“What about the details?” I say to Michael.
“We already took care of that, remember?” he says through his teeth, shooting me a don’t-mess-with me glance.
“No, not all of them, babe,” I say, and smile to Reverend Summerlin.
“Excuse us for a moment,” Michael says to the reverend and Joseph. He grabs my elbow, leads me upstairs, guides me into my bedroom, and closes the door.
Damn bed. And why does he have to smell like heaven?
“We already signed the contract, Scarlett.” He is angry.
“What about our living situation? Do you want me to move in with you? And what about my work? Do I need to keep working to support myself, or will I have an allowance?” I hate how that word sounds allowance. “And what about—”
“Let’s just get married since the reverend is here and we can work out the details after. Do you trust me enough to do that?” he asks.
Oh, no, he didn’t. “Trust?”
He huffs and touches his forehead. “Dammit, Scarlett. Do you trust our deal? This is a business deal and nothing else, do you understand?”
I swallow the lump that is growing in my throat. “Yes,” I hiss.
“Do you trust I will keep my end of the fucking business deal?” he asks.
“Yes.” I look at him, my eyes burning, from anger, or pain, or both.
“Good. So do I.” He huffs. “Now, shall we get on with it?” he asks.
Why does every word out of that man’s mouth have to sound so sensual? For no sane reason at all, my eyes wander to the bed again. His eyes flare just a tad, and I smirk, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing, especially now when I want to wring his neck, how much he turns me on. As an an
swer to his question, I open the door and we head downstairs again.
“Sorry about that,” I say entering the living room. “We just had one little detail to work out.”
Joseph looks a little confused, but Reverend Summerlin just smiles.
Michael steps up behind me. “Shall we?” He takes my arm in his and I feel a pang in my stomach. This is the moment. I mustn’t cry. I don’t want Michael to see how much this is hurting me, and that I’m completely and utterly heartbroken.
“Alright, you two, ready?” Reverend Summerlin says.
We both nod.
“Please take hands and look into each other’s eyes,” she says.
There’s an awkward pause, but Michael finally takes my hands in his and we look into each other’s eyes. I wonder what he’s thinking and feeling. Does he miss me as much as I miss him? Or does he just despise me because I withheld some information from him? His eyes are cold on the surface, but deep, deep inside, there is emotion.
Reverend Summerlin begins the ceremony. “We are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the union of Scarlett and Michael in marriage. Through their time together, they have come to realize that their hopes, dreams, and goals are more achievable and more meaningful through the combined effort and mutual support provided in love, commitment, and family; and so they have decided to live together as husband and wife.”
I am not ready to hear the words she is speaking. They are powerful—too sacred—vows one should not take lightly or make without really meaning to. What a liar I am.
“Marriage is love. True marriage is so much more than a wedding. It is the beginning of your eternal journey together. It is the sealing of each of your hearts together as one. It breathes on the love you give each other and never wearies, but thrives on the joy and happiness of each new blessed day.
“May you always be able to talk things over, to confide in each other, to trust each other, to laugh with each other, and to share in everything from this day forward. May you be blessed with a lifetime of happiness and a home of warmth and understanding,” Reverend Summerlin says.
This is just wrong. This is not what I wanted out of my life. A tear slips down my cheek, and for just a second, I think I see concern in Michael’s eyes.
“Now for the vows,” Reverend Summerlin says, turning to me. “Do you Scarlett Hansen, take Michael Manning, to be your husband in life and in sharing your journey; abundant in love, a mirror for your true self, promising to honor and cherish, through good times and bad, until death do you part?”
“I do,” I say, hearing the quaver in my voice. My eyes can no longer hold Michael’s gaze, and I look away.
Reverend Summerlin reads the same vows to Michael.
“I do,” Michael says flatly.
I look up at him again. His face is stone cold, no emotion showing anywhere now.
“Do you have the rings?” Reverend Summerlin asks.
“Yes, here,” Michael says, pulling out a small, black, velvet jewelry box from his pocket. He opens it and inside is my wedding band and his wedding ring. He hands me his wedding ring. It is smooth and cold and heavy in my hand.
“Scarlett, please repeat after me,” Reverend Summerlin says. “I have for you a golden ring.”
I take a deep breath. “I have for you…a golden ring.”
“The most precious metal symbolizes that our love is the most precious element in my life,” she says.
I repeat her words, barely able to talk, my throat swollen.
Reverend Summerlin continues. “The ring has no beginning and no ending.”
“The ring has no beginning and…no ending,” I repeat.
“It symbolizes that the love between us will never cease.”
I pause. I don’t know if I can say the words. Our love has already ceased. Tears roll down my cheeks and I close my eyes.
Reverend Summerlin repeats the words and somehow, I manage to recite them.
“I place it on your finger as a visible sign of the vows, which have made us husband and wife,” she says.
I reiterate the words and place the white gold ring on Michael’s ring finger, the smooth skin of his strong hands brushing against mine. I shiver.
Then we repeat the vows for Michael, and all the while reciting them, his eyes are distant and dis-affectionate, his voice monotone. Either he’s really good at hiding his emotions, or he simply doesn’t love me anymore.
Or…maybe…he never did.
Reverend Summerlin is still smiling from ear to ear. "And now, by the power vested in me by the State of Oregon, I hereby pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride.”
Somehow in my very fogged up, depressed state of mind, I had forgotten about the kiss at the end. Michael will not want to kiss me, I know that much, but this may very well be the last kiss we share. The nostalgia overwhelms me, and suddenly, I’m crying again.
Michael doesn’t hesitate and draws me near. He leans down and presses his lips to mine in a chaste kiss. This time, I don’t permit myself to fully experience the electricity between us, the electricity that is so much there, that just waits to course through my body, to leave me breathless and wanting so much more.
He pulls away all too soon, and I breathe a sigh of relief that I miraculously managed to keep my distance.
“Oh, come on now, Michael, it looks like you’re kissing your grandmother,” Reverend Summerlin says.
Joseph barks a laugh.
Michael chuckles nervously, but then, for whatever reason, he grabs me and crashes his lips to mine. All my resolve to keep my emotions out of this—gone. His tongue eases into my mouth and he reaches behind my head with one hand, around my back with the other, and draws me closer, deepening the kiss, awakening that desire in me I had sworn to repress.
Is this all for show? His kiss feels too raw and hungry for that. His chest rises and falls against mine—short, shallow, panting breaths that remind me of our most intimate moments.
My knees want to buckle underneath me, as his kiss turns slow and sensual, teasing, tugging, wet. Even now, with all that has happened, he still has this intoxicating effect on me.
Joseph clears his throat, and Michael pulls back.
“Mrs. Manning,” Michael says with a smile.
I wince, completely out of breath. “Mr. Manning.”
“Well then, let’s get to the paperwork,” Reverend Summerlin says.
After we finish the paperwork, Reverend Summerlin and Joseph congratulate us and wish us good luck. Then they’re off and we’re all alone.
10
“Want to sit at the kitchen table?” I ask, my heart in my throat. To me it seems like the best place since there’s somewhat of a boundary between us, like those few inches of wood will protect my broken heart somehow.
“Yes, thank you,” Michael says and we sit down. He folds his hands on the top of the table and I see the ring on his finger. It looks so good there. But it doesn’t belong there. He doesn’t belong to me.
“So here are the final terms of our deal,” he says. “To make everything believable, we need to have you move in with me. We can’t have anyone suspicious of us, so unfortunately we will have to share the same room, and have it appear that we share the same bed. But don’t worry, I’ll be sleeping on the floor.” His voice is bitter.
“Why, Michael? Are you afraid I might make a move on you?” I ask.
“Well, it is your profession isn’t it?” He lifts an eyebrow.
I can’t believe he just said that! “I chose to become a stripper because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have had enough money for the things I needed. Like the mortgage payment or my student loans or…I don’t even know why I’m explaining this to you. I doubt you would ever understand what it’s like to not have a choice, you son of a bitch.”
The right side of his lip rises, and he chuckles.
“I’m such an idiot that I didn’t see who you were before. This was always just a way for you to make money, wasn’t it? Eve
rything was a lie. A sham. I can’t believe I…” I almost say fell for you, but stop myself. “…trusted you.”
“I’m sorry. That comment was uncalled for,” he says.
“Listen, if…” I start.
“I said I was sorry—I won’t take a dig at you again. I just don’t know if I trust everyone working for me, and if it got out that we were sleeping in separate rooms, well, you know how that looks.”
“You shouldn’t trust everyone who works for you,” I say.
Michael’s eyebrows rise. “Why would you say that?”
“Your mother visited me earlier, and she said that someone in your household keeps her up to date on what you do.” I hold my breath.
“Who?” he asks, his eyes narrowing.
“Your butler.” I look down at the table.
“I’ll be damned.” He pauses and then says, “Why did my mother visit you? What did she say?”
“She came to apologize for last night,” I say.
“My mother?” He barks a laugh.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“My mother has never apologized to anyone in her life.”
“I find that rather hard to believe,” I say.
He glares at me, making me feel uncomfortable. “Believe what you want, but it’s the goddam truth. Let’s get to the next point. Your line of work.”
“You disapprove?” I can’t resist smirking.
“When you’re single again, you can do as you please. While you’re married to me, yes, I do disapprove. I want to keep my family name free from such smut,” he says.
The White Chapel: Book 2 in the Steamy New Adult Contemporary Romance Series (The Chapel Series) Page 8