Bidding For Her Curves - Flora Ferrari Page 0,46

loudly, clapping his hands in both pockets, looking panicked for a second, then relieved when he finds what he’s looking for.

“Here’s the contract,” he says, and I notice his hands trembling slightly as he produces a small, blue velvet box.

I make a strange sound, a cry of disbelief and a squeal of excitement.

I know a ring box when I see one, but I feel my head shaking. I can’t believe it.

“Hear me out,” Mason says hurriedly.

“I want you to be my business partner, to help me run everything, fifty-fifty, but I also want you to be mine… forever.”

He slowly opens the lid, revealing what looks like the hope diamond on a collar of smaller ones, bathing the kitchen and both of us with a rainbow of light which it catches, streaming through the huge windows.

“Forever,” he repeats. “I want you, Jules. Body and soul. If we’re gonna have a family, they’ll need a mommy and a daddy, not two high powered business executives too busy to sit and play with them, to teach them all about life, about love.”

I’m still shaking my head, speechless.

“I want you to be my family, Jules. I want you to be my wife. My best friend, my lover.”

He stares at me for what feels like ages. “Will you stop shaking your head and say yes woman?” he asks pleadingly, looking worried I might say no, or even run again.

“Can I make Karen work in the soup kitchen?” I ask quickly, watching his split-second recall without him even flinching.

“She already does. I put through her transfer over the weekend, she’ll find out sometime tomorrow.”

“Yes!” I say out loud, pumping my fist in front of me. “Yes, yes, yes!”

Mason furrows his brow in question, looking worried for a moment.

“I mean yes to everything! Of course, I’ll marry you, Mason. If that’s what you’re asking?”

We both repeat yes! Until we can’t keep ourselves from each other a second longer.

He picks me up, carrying me to our bed, promising to make good on his predictions for barefoot and pregnant.

Although, a little something tells me we might already be well on our way there.

Epilogue

Six Months Later

Mason

With Jules in charge of overseeing the neighborhood redevelopment, it means she’s spends more time than I’d like down there. I head down every chance I get but she’s told me off already for butting in on several occasions. So I busy myself with other things.

The place is ancient, one of the last houses still standing from early settlers by the looks, feels like it anyway, but it’s perfect.

Will be perfect, once we fix it up.

My reflex was to either build new or just pay people to come fix it, but Jules is trying to keep me away from the office, retraining me to be a homebody, which is fine by me too.

Calling her up around noon to see how her day is so far, she only works a couple of days a week, but I get antsy not having her around. She doesn’t answer.

Nothing too unusual about that, last time I went down there she was dishing out hot meals and re-educating the architects about where the best place really is for the ladies bathrooms.

But something isn’t sitting right.

Something’s off. I can feel it in my bones.

I try to laugh at the memory of our favorite saying when I feel things in my bones, but this time I really do.

My phone chirps, and picking up I figure its Jules returning my call.

“I’m not checking up on you baby. I was just-”

But it’s not Jules.

“Mr. Thorne. Doctor Briggs, at the hospital…”

My stomach drops, the hospital.

Before he can even speak I’m rushing for the door, snatching up my keys. I know that tone doctors get. I know the calls they have to make.

Life and death calls, I used to make them every day… financial ones anyway.

“Now, don’t panic. It’s just a fainting spell. We have Jules in the best hands right now. I’m just calling to let you know-”

I hang up. I need both hands and all my senses to drive.

The hospital’s about forty minutes away. I get there in twenty, skidding to a halt out front and rushing straight into the emergency room.

Dr. Briggs knows me better than I think or at least understands my reputation. Maybe he reads the newspapers. He’s waiting not too far from the door, shaking his head with a grave look.

“How bad is she, Doc? Give it to me straight, don’t lie to me,” I stammer, rushing up to him,