All This Time

2 ⦿ in which i receive a proposal

I should probably let you know that my secretary is also one of my dearest friends, Brett Bailey. She's beanpole skinny and wears black Converse instead of heels, but she still oozes the kind of sex appeal that only women on the cover of Maxim have. Her head pops in my door as soon as the elevator dings its departure from our floor.

"Productive meeting?" she asks sarcastically, shimmying into the still-warm seat Liza had just occupied. She helps herself to one of the peppermints I offer her and props her feet up on the corner of my desk.

I let my eyes do the talking for me as I exaggeratedly roll my eyes into the back of my head. "As always," I reply with equal dryness.

As I speak, I'm already dialing Dashiell Hardcastle, my failsafe. He picks up on the second ring, his rich, velvety voice languorously greeting me. "Cara mia," he almost purrs into the phone. He's not Italian, but he sure does like to pretend he is.

"Dash," I say in my most professional, no-nonsense voice. "I have a job for you."

"Finally!" he sighs happily. "I've been practicing my Italian all week without an audience."

It's impossible to be professional around someone as genuinely friendly and disarming as Dash. I feel my lips twitch in spite of myself. "It's good. Even got the accent down."

"Grazie, bella." He slips back into English, a pronounced New Yorker accent bleeding through the phone. "Who's the mark?"

He's used to this game.

"Liza Donaghue. She's a little dissatisfied with my services at present."

To his credit, he doesn't ask me if she's hot or not. Dash is the kind of guy who would enjoy a date with a woman even if he didn't want to bone her. That's an attractive quality. He's twenty-five, drop dead gorgeous, and always in need of cash. He's struggling to get a role in the acting biz that will last for longer than "guest starring" and he's always there when I need him. If it wasn't for the fact he peddles himself for money, hell, I'd probably date him.

Before you get all offended, let me clarify - Dash does not sleep with women for money. Like I said, he's my failsafe. From time to time, I need a guy to charm, wheedle, and woo a client who's in danger of leaving. To keep it all above-board, he's registered as a client of mine. I charged him all of one dollar (which I paid out of my own pocket) and in return, he takes a gal out and shows her a good time. He dates her for a while, then lets it fizzle out. I cover all date expenses and pay him twenty bucks an hour for each outing he takes my client on.

"Send me her details. I'm free all week. I didn't get the role of the barista on that new comedy show on ABC." His voice is cheerful as always but I've known him long enough to sense the undercurrent of sadness.

I can't really afford to be splashing money about right now but before I can second-guess myself, I offer, "Let's go for drinks later?"

No sooner than the words leave my mouth that there's a commotion at the door. Brett tries to bodily throw herself in front of my doorway, but lets out a little squeak and jumps to the side as a broad-shouldered man comes in like he owns the place. The disparaging glance he throws my office is downright insulting and the way he doesn't even spare Brett a glance as he looks down his nose at her and announces, "You may leave," does him no favors.

"Like hell I will!" she shoots back, hands on her hips.

"Let me call you back." I end the call before Dash can say a word. I would recognize that face anywhere. "Wolfram," I say flatly. "What brings you here?"

He sneers, pointedly staring at me until I sigh heavily. "Brett? It's okay, I'm fine. I know this guy."

She raises an eyebrow as if to say like hell I'm leaving him alone with you. "I asked for his name but he didn't give it. Just pushed his way in and said you'd want to see him."

"Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?" I snark at him.

"Sorry, are you talking? I'm just so used to filtering out inane babble that all I heard was white-noise." He smiles sweetly at me.

I hate that beautiful dimple on the right side of his smile and the way his thick lashes brush his cheeks when he blinks. It's been a year since I've seen him last and he looks the same: dark-wash jeans with expensive rips at the knees, a freshly-pressed button-down shirt, and day-old scruff on his jawline. His eyes are gray but right now they look like a tempestuous silver. Something's bothering him, and I hate that I know the expression in his eyes well enough to tell.

Brett makes a face at me and slips out the door. I can tell she doesn't think much of him and frankly, I don't blame her.

"What are you doing here?" I gesture for him to take a seat, which he only does after a long-suffering sigh.

"Believe me, I wouldn't be if I had any other choice."

I readily believe that. If it weren't for the fact that we share a best friend (my bff is dating his sister), I would have been happy to never see him again. "Care to enlighten me?" I prompt, hitting the reject button on my phone when Dash insistently calls me back.

Wolf's eyes follow my movement and I see his mouth tighten when he sees the male name on the screen. "I care to do a lot more than that," he said solemnly, reaching into his blazer pocket. He pulls out a little black box and I'm still reeling that he's in my office that I don't fully comprehend his intent until the goddamn ring is staring me right in the face. "Charlotte Something Wright, will you marry me?" The words come woodenly out of his mouth and his face contorts into what I think is a smile.

My mind is officially the most boggled it's ever been - and that includes the time I tried hash brownies unwittingly. "Um, what?" is the most intelligent thing I can manage.

"I need you." The admission seems to shock him too, because he reels backwards with a wild look in his eyes. "I mean, I need you to do this for me as a favor." Wolfram takes a heavy breath. "My father recently passed away. You may have read about it in the newspaper."

"I left you a condolence voicemail," I mumble under my breath.

"You did?" He's clearly surprised.

"Of course I did, you nitwit. Just because we're not friends doesn't mean I wasn't going to pay my respects. Didn't you even check your voice mailbox?"

"No." His brow furrows in a child-like manner. "People just call me back until they get a hold of me."

"Riiiight," I drawl. "The infamous arrogance of the van der Waals. It's been so long, I had almost forgotten."

"I just came back from the reading of the will." Wolf swallows past the lump in his throat. "I lose the majority shares in Waals Enterprises if I don't get married within the month."

"That's ridiculous," I blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind. "That's so fucking archaic, I mean, my god."

For once, we're in agreement. Wolf vehemently nods his head. "That's what I said. But the lawyers say it's watertight. I have to do it if I want to keep the shares. If I don't...they go to my brother."

"Why me?"

He smiles like it's the most natural answer in the world. "Why, because you're the one girl I know who could never make the mistake of falling in love with me."