The Reason

ANNA

Neither of us said anything while Gavin held pressure on the back of my hand and then put a Band-Aid over the wound. It was clear we were both lost in our own thoughts.

Eventually, he let out a deep sigh.

“I didn’t mean to say you caused what those assholes did to you,” he said. “When I saw them trying to drag you off—” His brow furrowed, and he shook his head. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

I looked down and saw that his knuckles were scabbed. I studied him more closely and noticed a bruise on his cheek as well.

“What happened?” I asked, reaching up toward the injury.

He caught my hand and surprised me by placing a gentle kiss against my palm. It was such a simple show of affection but somehow held the power to send my heart racing.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said dismissively. “They’re taken care of.”

I tilted my head. “Don’t do that.”

“What?” he asked.

“Don’t brush me off. I have a right to know as much as you do. If we’re going to entertain the idea of this”—I gestured between him and myself—“I want to go into it as partners. I want transparency and honesty. Even if it’s not built on love, I want a marriage.”

He nodded slowly, as if mulling over my statement. “Okay. Mark and I stopped your attackers. They fought back, but they were drunk and untrained. We called the police once they were subdued, then brought you back here.”

~A very clinical recap~, I supposed.

“Thank you.”

“So…” He sat back against the headboard and crossed his arms. “You’ve been thinking about my proposal.”

“I told you I would.”

“And?” he asked.

“Honestly? It’s hard not to feel like I’m selling myself,” I admitted.

He tilted his head. “I’m not trying to buy you. I just don’t want you to think there’s nothing in it for you.”

“What’s in it for ~you~?” I risked a glance in his direction.

“A beautiful woman.” He shrugged. “I thought that was obvious.”

I tried to ignore his flattering words, but damn if butterflies didn’t start dancing around my stomach.

“Pretty girls are a dime a dozen in New York,” I argued. “Why me? I want the real answer.”

He leaned his head back, and his stare seemed to be a million miles away. I took the opportunity to assume the same position next to him just out of arm’s reach, not trusting myself to make rational decisions under the influence of his touch.

After a moment, he spoke.

“I suppose because I trust you. As I said before, most people want something from me. You’re one of the few who do little things without expecting some type of reward. Most of the time, you don’t even bring it up.”

“Like what?” I asked, genuinely curious. I couldn’t think of anything in particular.

“When my sister was getting married in the Caribbean, my plane had an issue, and I needed a last-minute flight. Within the hour, you somehow found a first-class ticket that would get me there in time.”

“That’s my job,” I pointed out.

He chuckled. “Sure, but that’s not the end. Somehow, my bag got lost. The only things I had with me were what I was wearing. The suit to match my dad and brother was somewhere in JFK, and the gift I’d bought for my mom to honor the first of her kids to get married wouldn’t get there before the wedding.”

It was coming back to me. He had a custom sapphire pendant made for his mother, which had an inscription of the date in the setting.

“I’m not sure who called you to let you know, but you were able to get in touch with someone at the airline while I was losing my shit with them on the other line. A few minutes later, I got a notification that my bag was on another flight.”

He laughed and shook his head.

“They made you purchase a ticket, and you decided the best way to make sure it got there was to bring it yourself. You had barely been working for me for a month, so I half expected you to flaunt your achievement or ask to stay at the resort overnight.

“I actually booked you a room because I kind of felt you earned it. Instead, you made the three-and-a-half-hour flight, dropped my luggage, and then flew another three and a half hours home in ~coach~ without a word to me. You just texted Mark to let him know where to pick up my bag.”

“I was just trying to make sure you had your things for the wedding.” I shrugged. “I knew you were pretty upset.”

“I was upset because I hate inconvenience,” he said. “For better or worse, the money I’ve made allows me to live a life mostly unencumbered by things the average person has to worry about. Privilege like that can turn people into the worst versions of themselves.”

He rolled his head to the side so he was staring down at me.

“When I was growing up, we lived comfortably, but it was still a mostly average existence,” he explained. “What I have now is so beyond that, and the people I’m surrounded by think all of this is their right just because of who their parents are. Every one of them was raised by nannies and chefs and maids. They feel as though they shouldn’t have to lift a finger because they never have.

“You and I have spent quite a bit of time together over the last four years, and every time I’m with you, I’m reminded about what ~real~ life is like. I know it sounds corny, but you’re so down to Earth that it pulls my head out of the clouds. I’ve grown to crave your company.”

I felt my cheeks heat with a blush and looked away.

“Gavin, what happens when I don’t live up to your expectations?” I asked. “You’re absolutely right when you say I’m normal in every way. My biggest worry is that you’ll get bored.”

“The contract is to prove that I won’t let that happen,” he insisted.

I couldn’t help but smile and shake my head.

“That protects my life.” I stared up into his deep, dark eyes. “What protects my heart?”

I watched his face fall before he leaned back once again. I fought my disappointment at his reaction.

“I know that this isn’t about love for you,” I continued quietly. “But I can’t imagine sharing a life with someone and not feeling something for them. More than anything, I don’t know if I can give that to you and be okay with not getting it back.”

“It’s not that I don’t care for you,” he said. “I just don’t believe in true love or whatever. I think two people generally just decide they like each other enough and make it work.”

“Okay,” I pursed my lips thoughtfully. “So tell me, how do you see us ‘making it work’? Marriages are hard, even when people have feelings for one another.”

“I think the contract pretty much outlined my expectations.” He shrugged. “As long as you agree with them, I don’t see where we would have an argument.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed out loud. “Oh my god, you’re delusional.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Well, first of all, this is not a business transaction.” I cocked my head at him. “Let’s start with something basic. What happens when we disagree on what to have for dinner?”

“Easy.” He grinned. “The chef makes two separate meals.”

~Touché.~

“Okay, what if we both want to go to different restaurants?” I countered.

“We go to whichever one you pick,” he said as though it should be obvious.

“No, you ~really~ want to go somewhere else,” I argued.

“I would never lie to you, Annalise.” He chuckled. “I would want you to be happy.”

“Fine,” I grumbled. “Let’s say we hypothetically have a child. I want to send her to one school, but you want her to go to another. We’ve both dug in our heels. How do we decide?”

“Hmm.” He frowned, and I could tell he was seriously considering it. “I guess it would depend on which school was more highly rated and what our child’s interests were. For example, does the school have a greater focus on art or sports? Is one closer to our home?”

I sighed. “You’re being too reasonable.”

He chuckled, and then an idea occurred to me.

“Let’s say I’m out with friends,” I said. “We are having a good time. I forget to check my phone and miss a call from you. You decide to drive to the bar because you’re a creepy stalker, and you see that I’m talking to an attractive man. What do you do?”

I saw his jaw tighten. “That’s not a fair question.”

“Sure it is.” I shrugged. “Am I allowed to have the freedom to enjoy time with my friends? Or are you going to assume the worst and barge in?”

He narrowed his eyes and took several deep breaths.

“It’s a moot point,” he said finally.

“How’s that?”

“As my wife, you wouldn’t leave our home without a bodyguard. I wouldn’t have a reason to check up on you.”

I stared at him. “You would always know where I was.”

He nodded.

“What about my freedom?” I asked.

“You could go anywhere you wanted.” He shrugged. “But I will know about it.”

“Hmm.” I considered his words and the deep, serious tone he was using. For some twisted reason, I found myself inexplicably turned on, despite the fact that I knew he was absolutely serious.

“It’s about your safety as much as anything else,” he reasoned. “Mark or a member of his team is always with me.”

“Okay.” I nodded slowly. “Then I want to make some changes to the contract.”