Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol #1) - Fiona Cole Page 0,60
you all you know, and you can humor an old man by talking shop. So, what about work has you moving back full time to the place you said you disliked so much?”
Turned out, just like when I was a kid, there was no getting around the truth with Grandpa. Rubbing a hand down my face, I considered the most delicate way to deliver the news without inspiring the third degree. “It’s not all about work.”
“Ohhhh.” He dragged the word out around a smirk, even managing to bounce his brows in insinuation. “A woman.”
“Yeah,” I said on an exhale.
“It must be serious.”
“We’re getting married.”
Blink. Blink.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
I held my breath, telling myself I’d speak first once I got to one.
One and a half.
One and one quarter.
“Hot, damn, Nicholas,” Grandpa yelped. He slapped his leg and laughed, grabbing my hand in his and holding tight.
When Vera asked me what I got out of marrying her, I gave a half-truthful reason of making my grandfather happy, but seeing his joyful elation settled something in my chest I hadn’t realized was out of place.
“I didn’t even know you were seeing someone,” he exclaimed around his brilliant smile. “How long? Do I get to meet her?”
“Not long. It’s been a bit of a whirlwind,” I answered as honestly as I could, hoping to avoid the second question. In the end, I only prolonged the inevitable of explaining it all. His mind may wander in and out, but he had moments of being sharp as a tack. There would be no getting around explaining who I was making my wife.
It was like walking into a volcano, unable to turn around, knowing you were fucked, but continuing on your path anyway.
“So, will I get to meet her?” he asked again. “Or am I going to meet your bride after you say your vows?”
“Of course, before the wedding. Soon. Promise.”
“Don’t sound so excited,” he joked. “Gosh, I don’t even know her name. Tell me, Nico. Tell me the name of the angel who has claimed your heart.”
The romantic image he painted made the truth all the harder to admit, but it was better he knew before he met her. My chest pinched, and all the happiness I’d given moments ago slipped away like sand between my fingers.
“Verana Mariano,” I choked out.
He sat up tall, his jaw working open and closed as if he wanted to laugh it away as a joke and then tell me I was full of shit or that it was wrong. Each possible reaction had a different emotion flashing across his face until finally, realization and frustration settled in.
“Nicholas Knightly Rush. What the hell are you doing?”
“It’s not—”
“What I think?”
I winced, hating that he called me on my bullshit answer because we both knew that deep down, it had to do with my revenge.
“Yes and no, but I didn’t seek her out. She just…fell into my lap.”
One brow slowly lifted, reminding me of all the times he’d find me with cookie crumbs on my mouth after I’d already gone to bed. Without saying a word, he leaned back with a deep breath, resting his linked hands atop his stomach, and waited.
Time to jump into the volcano.
With my own deep breath, I explained how I became engaged to the daughter of the man who I hated most in this world.
“She’s an innocent woman, Nicholas. Don’t involve her in your revenge,” he said when I finished.
“She’s getting more than enough out of this.”
“And how will she handle knowing she was the key to the downfall of her family company?”
“She’s smart enough to start her own, and after everything her father has put her through, she may want just that.” Grandpa shook his head, but I wouldn’t let his disappointment sway me. I’d come too far—we’d gone through too much. “I know what I’m doing, and we’ll all be better on the other side of it.”
“A marriage built on lies is not a marriage at all, Nicholas. Even a fake one. No one is better with that.”
“It’s a marriage we’re both walking into with more honesty than most. This arrangement suits us both.”
“Five years is a long time. A lot can grow between two people who live together—a lot of emotion. If I thought I loved your grandma when I married her, it was nothing compared to how much I adored her five years later. Don’t hurt her.”
“Impossible,” I said with a huff of laughter. “We don’t…particularly care for each other. All we can hope for is a