Mia Like Crazy (6 page)

“Medina, you’ve worked hard enough this morning. Why don’t you take a long lunch break and go to a spa or something. You seem tense.”

“I wouldn’t be
tense
if you’d let me finish a sentence.” I realized my tone would have been way over the line with any normal millionaire client, but I already felt a surprising familiarity with him.

Besides, I knew I’d gotten my point across when he casually zipped his mouth and threw away the key. I tried to ignore this childish gesture and move on. “As I was saying, it would be so much faster and easier to find a wife and live with her for six months.”

Although there wasn’t even a hint of a smile on his face, I was sure I saw a playful spark in his eye when he answered. “That’s impossible. The only woman in this town who considers me marriage material is my sister, and I think the courts frown on that, although it would be nice to keep the money in the family.”

I wasn’t about to let him brush this off so easily. “There must be someone—a friend, maybe?”

His expression changed and I felt as if a storm had blown in. “Haven’t you figured out I don’t have friends?” he said angrily. “I’m sure Meridith used her little
island analogy
on you.”

I ignored the tone. My crafty lawyer’s brain knew there was more than one way to skin a cat, or in this case, a wife. “What about a cash deal? Offer someone a couple million in a pre-nuptial agreement. It’s standard, anyway, for wealthy people to have a pre-nup.”

“But she’d have to live here with me for six months. Do you really think a couple million is enough for a woman who’d be expecting to be abused every day for six months?” Drew asked skeptically.

“People kill for a lot less.”

“Yeah, but are they willing to die for it?”

“I think you’re over-dramatizing this situation,” I said. “You’re not that scary. I’d say two million, tops, would get you a perfectly good wife.”

He folded his empty sandwich wrapper into a neat square. “Would
you
do it for two million dollars?” He sounded doubtful about the amount of money.

“Sure. Money like that would solve all my problems.” A second later I realized I’d walked into a trap.

“Okay. It’s a deal. Vegas would be the quickest way—you think it needs to be a church wedding?”

“Wait, Drew, I didn’t mean to volunteer for the job.”

“Why not? You
said
you weren’t afraid of me. You
said
the money would solve all your problems.”

“I can’t. I’m your lawyer. It’s unethical. I could lose my license.”

“With two million you wouldn’t have to worry about your license, and you would instantly solve most of my legal problems. I have a great guest bedroom, thanks to Meridith—I don’t know who she was expecting to stay in it—plus I have a room that would be a perfect office for you. It’s a big apartment. You wouldn’t be in my way.”

“In your way? What do you do that I could get in the way of?” I was buying time to figure my own way out of this, but he was distracting me with what felt like boyish enthusiasm.

The doorbell rang, and, a few seconds later, Meridith breezed in.

“Guess what, Sis, Medina and I are getting married,” Drew said. “Cool, huh?”

I wondered how he was able to sound both enthusiastic and sarcastic, simultaneously. I expected Meridith to step in as the voice of reason at this point, but I was dead wrong.

“Oh, Mia, how wonderful! I know you’ll make Drew very happy.” Meridith was acting like this was for real, as though Drew and I had been dating for months and it
was expected
.

She sat down at the table and cheerfully asked, “So, do you want a big church wedding, or something smaller?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” I said dryly. This was ridiculous…wasn’t it?

“Well, Sis, Mia doesn’t have any family here, and I’m, you know, Satan—”

“I wish you would quit saying that,” Meridith interrupted.

“What I meant was, I think a church wedding is out,” Drew finished logically.

I was annoyed that these two kooks thought they could swoop in and take control of my life, which had been completely self-managed up until this point.

I wadded up my wrapper and shoved it into the brown bag it came in. “I don’t want to burst anyone’s bubble, but I didn’t consent to
any
kind of wedding.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “That’s just a technicality.”

Panic suddenly overwhelmed me. Why had I agreed to come back here in the first place? Why did I still not want to leave? But I needed to get away and think.

“I’ve gotta go,” I said. “This whole conversation is ridiculous.” For a second there, I’d actually wanted to go along with this scheme, and the scary part was it might not have been because of the money.

Drew followed me outside into the hall, and said, in a hushed voice, “Three million and all expenses paid while you’re living here.” I opened my mouth to speak, but he beat me to the punch, “and
anything
else you want.”

I was stunned by those last words. Never in my life had someone told me I could have anything
I wanted. That was for people who were lucky, privileged, protected.

Drew was only inches away as he waited for my answer. His hypnotic gaze was dragging me inside him. I had the urge to reach out and touch him.

No, he didn’t really offer that.

But his chest was rising and falling as if he’d been running, and he looked so hopeful. Could he look at me like this if it was only about the money?

It hit me that I’d been lying to myself and everyone else, my entire life. I was always spouting off about how I wanted to be self-sufficient and didn’t need anyone. Yet, this man I hardly knew had looked into my eyes and offered to take care of me, and I was undone.

Anything you want
.

I remembered how badly I’d wanted my mother—or mostly absentee father—to say words like that to me. It wasn’t because I wanted so very many things. I just wanted to feel like someone valued me enough to say it once, in a toy store, at the grocery store…

I noticed they’d always managed to come up with enough money for drugs, but couldn’t afford so much as a candy bar when I asked.

And now that I’d convinced myself I didn’t need to be taken care of, and wouldn’t accept it anyway, here was this handsome—though possibly crazy—man, making me an offer that felt like it was about so much more than money.

His look was too intense now. He was only inches away, but his hands were shoved into his pants pockets. I knew that if he would only reach out and touch me, I’d say “yes” to anything he asked.

I felt tears gathering behind my eyes. I had to go. No one had seen me cry since my dad left when I was seven years old. So, why now?

“I’ll let you know,” I choked out before I fled down the hallway.

Safely in the elevator, I marveled at how close I’d come to agreeing to marry Drew Larson—on impulse. I didn’t remember doing anything impulsively since I was a small child.

Mia Medina always had a plan. It was well thought out—often years in advance, and it was safe and logical. But I’d never met a man before who could look into my eyes and make me want to say “yes,” just like that.

I thought of my mother and was frightened to the core, thinking I might be just like her after all.

Chapter Five

It was another terrible night. There were more disturbing dreams full of newspaper articles and eyes, and several times when I awoke, I wondered if I was coming down with something.

By eight the next morning, I was in absolute misery. It was only the third migraine I’d ever had, and I was sure I’d brought it on myself, but it didn’t matter at this point because the pain was excruciating and when I tried to get up, the nausea and dizziness prevented it.

At five after nine, the phone rang. When I managed a weak “Hello,” I heard Drew’s voice on the other end of the phone.

“You didn’t report for work this morning.”

“No,” I said weakly. “I have a migraine.”

“I thought you were supposed to get the headaches after the wedding.” When he got no response, he continued, “You can say ‘no,’ you don’t have to hide out in your hotel roo—”

“Drew,” I gritted out through clenched teeth. “I have a migraine. I can’t get out of bed.”

His voice became very serious. “Do you have any medicine with you?”

“No.”

“I’ll be right over with some.”

I stared at the clock on the nightstand, thinking how ironic it was that I was waiting anxiously for “Son of Satan” to come to my hotel room. I hated being so helpless, but I hated the agonizing pain even more.

Fifteen minutes after we spoke, my door was flung open by the manager. When he saw me, he started to apologize. “I’m sorry, ma’am. He said someone was dying in here.”

“He was right,” I mumbled.

“Yeah, thanks for your help. Now, get out.” Drew stepped inside and began closing the door on the distressed man.

“Uh, ma’am? Are you gonna be all right?” The last few words were muffled because Drew had already slammed the door in his face.

He flipped on the light, and the agony in my skull spiked to unbearable. He strode across the room to my bed. After he pulled a bottle out of his coat pocket, he poured water from it into a hotel glass.

“Here, take these.” There were two pills in the palm of his hand.

I tried to muster the strength to sit up. Through my half-opened eyes, I saw him scanning the room as he waited, his gaze pausing briefly on the lacy white bra I’d carelessly cast off the previous night
.
His expression didn’t give away any particular interest, though, which might have bothered me more if I wasn’t so overwhelmed by the pain.

“Where did you get that?” I waved a shaky finger toward his hand.

“I called and had Meridith’s housekeeper meet me over here with it. It’s real migraine medicine,” he assured me. “Meri’s got pills for everything over there.”

Not one to be picky about prescriptions when I was at death’s door, I pulled myself up and grabbed the tablets and glass of water out of his hands. I gulped them down and sank back onto my pillow.

“Come on. Get up,” he said. “You’re coming with me.”

“No, I can’t work this morning. Maybe later,” I murmured.

“You do think I’m evil.” He sounded like it was no big deal if I did. “I’m taking you to my place to recuperate.”

“I’m fine here.”

“In this dive? You’ll get eaten by cockroaches.”

“It’s not a dive—and what’s this obsession with cockroaches?” I turned away from him and pulled the blanket over my head to block out the sixty-watt light bulb now burning through my eyelids.

The covers were suddenly gone and the shock of the cool air on my skin made my whole body tense. I turned over and looked at Drew, who was bunching up the bedspread and throwing it into the corner, followed by the blanket and top sheet.

“Are you crazy?” I asked.

“Duh,” he said almost comically. “I thought you’d read the papers.” He moved back over to stand next to the bed. “You’re coming with me.”

“Why would I do that?”