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He set the phone down and made his way to the living room, sinking into his favorite armchair. The weight of the day slowly lifted, replaced by a quiet determination. They had a plan, uncertain as it might be, and they had each other. That, he knew, was more than enough to face whatever lay ahead.
As he closed his eyes, thoughts of Italy and Paris filled his mind, painting a picture of hope and possibility. Maybe, just maybe, this journey would be the start of something beautiful.
*****
“You didn’t have to come over.” The exasperation was evident in her voice as she opened the door to admit him. She was not in the mood for Michael’s theatrics tonight.
“Of course, I did.” He swept in, bringing the frigid air with him and with his usual flourish shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the tree in the entryway. “I brought wine.”
“What the hell for?” She grumbled as she stomped into the living room where she had turned on the heat.
“To celebrate.” He eyed her as he placed the bottle on the center table. “There I was, languishing in my room and brooding about another date gone completely wrong, when you called.” His eyes brightened.
“You made my night. Now I need deets. On the way over, I looked up the gorgeous Leo Coleman.” He draped himself over the arm of a comfortable sofa. “Man of the hour – or rather man of the year.
Self-made multi-billionaire who takes over smaller companies without prejudice of course and turn them into money making machines. He has been photographed with sheiks, royalties, and politicians, I would say he is not discriminatory there.
And he has been with some unbelievably beautiful women. Actresses for the most part. He has an interest, or his company has interests in some very rewarding and highly grossed films, hence the leaning towards actresses.”
He eyed her closely. “I recalled you saying that you met him or rather bumped into him outside your place of business, and he came in soon after and offered you some considerable business. My question is this and it has been bugging the living daylights out of me – why is he agreeing to this remarkable charade?”
His monologue had unwittingly sent her into deep despair.
“He wants off the marriage market.”
“Oh?” Michael simply stared at her with raised brows.
“Oh, do not look at me like that. I am as stumped as you are. We are both benefitting from all of it.”
“I get that you will be reaping the rewards, it just seems to me that the gorgeous money man is getting the short end of the stick.” He grinned at her glare.
“No reflection on you darling, but his willingness to do this, leaves me feeling …, let us use the word, curious, shall we? The man can get any woman or man he wants, including me…,” he sighed dramatically.
“Pity he is a heterosexual male. All the good ones are taken. And you told me your aunt wants a semblance of a real wedding. A wedding at her drafty place, which – my God, that is a setting more for a funeral than a wedding. The Garden Home would have been more appropriate, all that wonderful space and beautiful flowers.”
“It’s not a real ceremony, remember?”
Michael grunted. “Isn’t it?”
“No!” She fisted her hands in her hair and tugged.
“Darling, you are going to pull all those gorgeous tresses out by the root and give yourself a migraine. The only thing that is not going to be real about it is the fact that I am not an ordained minister. Did she believe you?”
“After some convincing, yes.”
“And you are going on this ‘honeymoon’? Paris and Italy. Two of the most romantic cities in the world. I know your man has businesses in those places and everywhere else…”
“He’s not my man.”
He simply harrumphed. “And you are moving in with him. I have seen his townhouse in ‘Gorgeous living, and it makes my humble abode, looks – well, humble. Antique furnishings, lots of open spaces, lovely, treated wood floor, a kitchen that will send you into orgasmic heaven and pricey artworks.
He has an indoor pool and a kick you in the crotch gym.” He smiled at her lifted brows. “I always read up on gorgeous richmen in case they happen to sway my way. Unfortunately for me, he does not. The honeymoon…”
“Stop calling it that.” She snapped. “He suggested it because Aunt Gloria mentioned it. And he mentioned that I might be interested in scoping out some restaurants and cafes. He is calling it a business trip.”
“I see.” Michael pursed his lips and kept his thoughts to himself, realizing that she would not want to hear them. “So, the wedding dress.”
Sherrian rolled her eyes. “I told Aunt Gloria that I would not be wearing white.”