Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol #1) - Fiona Cole Page 0,45

fraud?”

“I guess I’ll cross that bridge if it comes up.”

He grunted but let it go. “I’ll need about two weeks once I have the shares if all goes to plan over the next month—which it should. But she can’t interfere. If she were to fight you on this, it could drag it out long enough to give Mariano a fighting chance.”

“I’ll come up with something. Take her away on a honeymoon.”

“Have you heard of phones?” he deadpanned.

“My buddy, Xander, is a tech genius. I’ll have him rig something to keep her out of communication. I’ll make this work.”

“We’ve worked a long time. I hope it does.”

“It will,” I said before hanging up.

If I said it with enough conviction, fate would make it happen. Not that I believed in fate. You made your own, and I’d be damned if I didn’t lock in the most secure plan for it to all fall in place.

Conversation done, I sat back and wondered what she would do when she discovered the truth—that she played a role in me finally crumbling her family’s company under my feet? Not that it mattered. We’d made a deal. She was mine for five years, and I had to constantly remind myself of why when the appeal of having her preceded my thoughts for revenge.

So many factors were in play, and I had to remain focused on the goal—I had to keep a distance.

I had to admit that having her by my side filled a hole I hadn’t known was there—an emptiness I never planned to fill, so I never acknowledged its existence. But when I imagined Verana on my arm at events, I thought of my mother and my grandmother and how they’d stood by the men in our family. When I pictured myself, I always stood alone. Now, I had Verana, and it sparked an emotional response I needed to shut down. I planned to keep her physically close enough to not run but use my coldness and previous arrogance to put a barrier around the possibility of falling into a trap of wanting her for more than sex.

No woman had lured me away from my revenge—not even close. She wouldn’t either. I’d be the asshole she accused me of, and if I could slowly chip away at her resolve to not fuck me, then even better.

It wasn’t just me I was thinking about. I had a company, and my grandfather. One of my meetings this morning was with a caregiver in New York. He wouldn’t be thrilled to leave his warm ocean and southern hospitality, but I couldn’t have him so far away either.

I’d make it work.

I’d make all of this work.

Starting with making it official.

Snagging the box off the desk, I headed toward her desk.

I walked across the floor with purpose, garnering other employees’ attention.

Debra noticed my approach into the main cubicle area and came out of her office. “Mr. Rush. What can I do for you?”

At that, Vera lifted her head and met my eyes. Something about my face alarmed her, and her eyes widened as she scooted back like she wanted to bolt.

“I’m good, Debra, thank you. I’m just here to speak with Vera.”

“Ms. Barrone?”

I laughed softly, like I found her correction to Vera’s formal name cute. “Yes, Ms. Barrone. Although, not for long,” I muttered, really amping up the show.

If I thought she looked alarmed before, it was nothing compared to the way her body tightened, and her jaw clenched. The soft smile I gave her probably set off even more alarm bells, considering we mostly glared at each other.

I locked the soft look in place, adding adoration in there too as I approached her desk.

“Vera,” I started, closing in. She shook her head just the tiniest bit, and I almost laughed at her desperation to make my attention on her in the middle of the office stop.

The whole floor was absorbed into our perceived private moment. The phones placed on mute, keyboards quiet with frozen fingers hovering above the letters, barely even any whispers or breathing, everyone on edge and holding their breath.

“Mr. Rush,” she choked out, her hands clutching her armrests.

“Vera,” I said again, revealing the black box from my pocket.

“No,” she whispered so quietly I barely heard.

Ignoring it, I dropped to one knee, creating an echo of gasps from around the office. “Since you started here, I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you. We tried to keep it professional, but the feelings between us couldn’t be