A Marriage Proposal

Chapter 1

"Do you marry me?"

The question abandoned Francis' lips so suddenly that Arthur forgot how to breathe for a few seconds. He looked to the man in front of him, with his back straight and his blue eyes paying attention to Arthur's facial expression. His brain processed the words carefully, trying to evaluate what kind of prank Francis was playing. He did not give him the satisfaction of examining him as an experiment in a laboratory. His face was cold and even disgusted by his guest's insolence.

"Did you hit your head again?" Arthur said, deciding the best answer was another question. He left his empty cup of tea on his desk. The traffic's sounds from the windows interrupted the wave of the conversation. Previously, he had opened the windows blinds to welcome the sunshine in the morning. The weather was good today, but Francis had ruined the day with his visit.

The last time Francis asked the same, Arthur's office was in another house he had sold ten years ago. He had decided to purchase a small apartment in London while keeping the other homes within his territory's borders. He replaced the furniture, even the shelves, and the desk. Although Arthur kept a couple of things. They were objects that still had value in his memory.

He remembered Francis dressed in second-hand clothes and with a sad expression. Arthur knew the conditions that led Francis to humiliate himself in front of his old enemy. No one was surprised when Arthur refused his nonsense without giving it a second thought.

"You have become deaf with the years," Francis said. He left out an affected sigh like he was an actor practicing for his next scene. "I am proposing to you. In other words, getting married. You and me."

Arthur knew he would lament his curiosity.

"And why are you proposing to me?"

"For personal reasons," Francis replied.

Arthur raised an eyebrow while he observed his guest carefully, forgetting his manner. He did not need to be a gentleman with Francis. He decided Francis did not look in bad shape. Even if people ask somebody else and not him, the person would admit Francis looked more handsome than ever. His clothes were too expensive for his tastes, an insubstantial waste, but he liked the perfume Francis had chosen this time. Francis did not resemble the miserable country from years ago, desperate to sign the marriage's papers.

"If your empty head pretends we marry each other, you understand I need to know everything about your personal affairs," Arthur said. He would regret to follow the farce later. 'What are you doing?' he asked himself. Part of him wanted to run away from his own home and take shelter in the closest pub. The other part, the one with the curiosity, wanted to keep holding a knife against his neck. "What is the problem with you?"

"I just think," Francis said, and Arthur knew he was doing the same: avoiding to answer directly, taking the conversation to other places. "Both of us will benefit from marriage. I do not need to marry urgently, but in those circumstances, if we are together..."

"You have Ludwig," Arthur interrupted.

"It is not the same. I don't need to marry Ludwig."

"And why do you need to marry me?"

"I already said it is beneficial for both." Francis insisted. He bent backward on his chair like he was trying to breathe deeply to clear the tension emanating from Arthur. He left uncovered part of his neck, and even that simple movement stole the attention from anything else. "Don't get me wrong. I don't adore the idea. I didn't wake up this morning thinking today is a good day to marry that bastard. But it can be a good decision. Maybe. My boss..."

"So, it is your boss' idea." Arthur almost spilled the words. Francis' chatter had been as a punch in his guts. He imagined himself opening the window, taking Francis by his shirt, and throwing him from the third floor. Nothing will happen, he would survive, but the fall would hurt.