Not Just the Greek's Wife - By Lucy Monroe Page 0,42
matter.”
“But according to you, it does matter to me.” He wanted her to feel secure in her life—he’d said so.
It was actually really rather sweet and very thoughtful, further proof that Ariston wasn’t exactly like her father used to be. They both might be business sharks, but Ariston had a heart.
Even if he wouldn’t admit it. And maybe she wasn’t the only one he was thinking needed the bonds of marriage between them.
“Are you refusing to marry me?”
“Are you asking?” she pressed, no longer against the idea, but not ready to give in yet either.
“Are you saying I have to?” His business-shark mask fell away to be replaced by an out-and-out glare.
“Yes.”
She didn’t care if what they had was a business arrangement, they were getting married again. And for her, that was personal. Deeply so.
Giving no clue to what he was about to do, Ariston silently got up from the couch and walked over to his desk. He opened the top drawer and pulled something out before coming back to her.
He stopped at the end of the sofa closest to where she sat. “I am not a romantic man.”
“This isn’t a matter of romance.” For him at least. What her heart got out of it wasn’t any of his business, since he’d made it plain that he had no interest in that organ. “It is a matter of respect.”
Understanding tinged with relief crossed his masculine features. “In that case …”
He dropped to one knee. Right there, in the middle of his office, on the hand-stitched Turkish carpet.
He lifted the object in his hand toward her and she recognized the jeweler’s exclusive and distinctive packaging on what turned out to be a ring box. It wasn’t the same jeweler her original engagement and wedding ring had come from. It was the one whose catalog Ariston had found her thumbing through six months after they were married.
She’d told him how much she liked their exclusive line of chocolate diamonds.
He flipped the box open. “Marry me, Chloe.”
She reached out to touch the ring. It was a large square-cut chocolate diamond set in yellow gold. Another preference she’d shared with him despite the popularity of platinum amongst their set. On either side of the center stone was a cluster of white diamonds.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered in awe.
“Beautiful enough to wear for the rest of your life?” he asked carefully.
That really was the question, wasn’t it? Did she want to spend a lifetime with this man? She’d walked away before, believing her love deserved to be returned. She still hoped that one day it would be, but she’d realized something about love in their two years apart.
It wasn’t a stingy emotion and it didn’t die just because she’d been separated from her beloved.
Ariston had said on her first trip to New York that this was their second chance and she realized she wanted to take it, all the way.
“Yes.”
He pulled her into a mind-blowing kiss, which was awfully romantic, no matter what he claimed to the contrary.
When they came up for air, she said, “No wonder you didn’t take me to that gorgeous apartment you set up for me.”
“I thought you would sleep better in our bed. You never seemed to have any trouble before.”
They’d spent the night in his Manhattan townhouse, their home while they’d been married. Sleeping in the master bed with him had felt strange, but in retrospect she could see that once his mind had been made up, she’d become his wife again without her even knowing it.
She wasn’t about to tell him that it wasn’t the comfort or lack thereof of her bed in Oregon that had kept her awake. It didn’t matter now. “Having sex had more to do with my long and restful sleep than the comfort of the mattress, Ariston. You tired me out.”
He looked quite pleased with that pronouncement.
She ignored his satisfaction and asked. “Are all of my things in the house, then?”
“Your art supplies and personal items, yes. Your furniture is in storage until you decide what you want to do with it.”
He really had never intended for her to live in the gorgeous apartment. At least not once his plans for them getting remarried had come into play. She wondered at what point he’d changed his mind on that, and decided to ask.
“After the third phone call in which you put off leaving for New York another day,” he replied to her question with more candor than she’d expected.
Maybe more honesty than he’d intended,