Listed: Volume I (4 page)

As
usual, everyone glanced over to acknowledge his entrance. He’d always been the
center of any room he walked into.

Now,
he frowned and started over to her. “What are you doing?” His eyes unerringly
took in the rag in her hand and the apron she’d wrapped around her waist. “Are
you working?”

“Jill
had an emergency.”

“Why
are you—”

Since
he looked irrationally annoyed by her decision to fill in for her friend, Emily
had no qualms about interrupting him. “You know Chris?”

“Sure.
Laura’s brother.” Paul held his hand out and shook Chris’s hand distractedly.
“There’s no reason you need to be working…”

Emily
assumed he’d finished the thought, but she didn’t hear it because she walked
away.

She’d
never liked anyone to boss her. Not even her father.

She
certainly wasn’t going to stand around and be bossed by Paul Marino.

She’d
gone to the back to get some more coffee cups, dutifully ignoring Paul and his obnoxiousness.
When she pushed through the door again, though, he was right there waiting.

For
some reason, she felt an unexpected surge of attraction, which was ridiculous
because he obviously wasn’t trying to be sexy at the moment. Mostly he looked
grumpy and exasperated with his rumpled dark hair and tense jaw.

But
she experienced an intense wave of attraction. Not in the old way—that distant
idolization—but rather a visceral response to the masculinity he exuded.

It
left her breathless. And incredibly annoyed with herself.

“You
shouldn’t have to be working,” he said, as if there hadn’t been any
interruption in their conversation. “Especially not now—”

“That
I’m dying?” she finished tartly.

He
took a breath, obviously planning to respond.

She
didn’t let him. “I don’t care if you think work is somehow beneath me now I’m
going to get married to you. I’ve worked all my life, and that’s not going to
change now. I’m not a spoiled rich boy who lives on a trust fund and wastes his
life partying, sleeping around, and jumping out of planes. This is me. This is
what I do. Most people can’t lounge around all day doing nothing.”

Paul’s
expression grew tighter and tighter as she spoke, and his eyes were cold and
hard when she’d finished. “What have I done to deserve that?”

Emily
drooped, letting out her pent breath in a rush. “Nothing. You haven’t done
anything to me. I’m sorry if I was harsh.”

His
mouth softened slightly. “I really wasn’t suggesting that you shouldn’t work
because we’re going to get married.”

“Then
why all the bossing?”

“I’m
not convinced ‘bossing’ is the appropriate descriptor of my conduct just now.”

Despite
herself, Emily snorted in amusement at his dry, lofty tone, even though she
knew that was the response he’d been looking for.

Paul
might be irresponsible and entitled, but he’d always been incredibly smart. He
finished college when he was twenty and went on to get his MBA. How he managed
to successfully earn his degree last month while still indulging his very wild
lifestyle she couldn’t even imagine.

“Well,”
Emily said, forcing down her defensiveness since it wasn’t really Paul’s fault,
“It wouldn’t kill you to get a job.”

To
her surprise, he didn’t laugh or shrug her comment off. “Believe it or not,
I’ve been trying.”

Taken
off guard, she blurted out the obvious question. “Where do you want a job?”

“Simone’s.”

Paul
was neighborhood royalty not because of his father’s reputation. His mother’s
family had been equally important in the community—her great-grandfather having
made a fortune by starting Simone’s, a national department store chain, and her
father having been savvy enough to transition to successful online retailing
just in time to keep the company from going bust.

His
mother had died last year, leaving all she had to her son, but he couldn’t
claim most of it or his share in the company until he turned twenty-five.

Emily
could hardly blame the woman for not risking everything her family had worked
to achieve on a reckless bad-boy like Paul.

“What
kind of job are you trying to get? Mail room clerk? Receptionist?”

The
corner of his mouth turned up briefly. “I’m not expecting to be appointed CEO
at twenty-three, but I’m perfectly well-qualified for some sort of position.
The board just doesn’t trust me.”

“Can
you blame them?”

The
smile disappeared. “It’s my family’s company.”

“Yeah.”
Emily thought about it for a minute, surprised and faintly pleased that Paul
was actually serious about his desire to work in his mother’s company. In all
the years she’d known him, he hadn’t appeared to take anything seriously. Not
until recently. “Good thing the press hasn’t caught wind of that. Evil board
members heartlessly shutting out grieving son from his birthright.”

Paul
was leaning on the counter, but now he straightened up suddenly. His brows drew
together.

“What?”
she asked.

He
shook his head. He might have said something, but Jill burst through the door
just then, immediately breaking into effusive thanks for Emily.

Not
wanting to leave Jill with a mess, Emily went to clear some of the plates and
cups from a couple of tables. When she turned around, she realized that Laura
had gone over to talk to Paul.

Actually,
hang all over him would be a more accurate description. And Paul was smiling back
at her.

Emily
met Chris’s eyes across the room, and she knew what her friend was thinking.

Chris
thought Paul was a player. Thought he’d never be faithful, never be a good
husband, not even for a few months.

He
didn’t realize that Emily wasn’t expecting Paul to be any such thing.

This
wasn’t about fulfilling some girlish, fairytale daydream. It was simply about
completing her list.

One
thing Emily knew very well.

There
were Lauras in the world, and there were Emilys.

The
Lauras were adored by all who saw them, winning admirers and lovers by doing
nothing more than flashing a smile. The Lauras married rich men and lived lives
of ease and safety.

The
Emilys of the world had to scrimp for every penny. Even though they were smart
and nice and pretty enough, they still made it through high school without ever
having a real boyfriend—since no one of interest ever asked them out. The
Emilys of the world made stupid mistakes, like overhearing a mob boss’s
conversation about drug trafficking and money laundering. And, being too
stubborn to be intimidated into silence, the Emilys of the world ended up in
ridiculously melodramatic scenarios like becoming witnesses in federal trials.

And
then they contracted mysterious viruses that would kill them at eighteen.

Emily
used to have daydreams like everyone else, but she’d long since given up hoping
they would come true. It was fine. She’d always been self-sufficient, and she
wasn’t going to start feeling sorry for herself now.

She
had her list, and Paul had agreed to help her complete it. That was all the
kindness she could expect from the universe.

There
were Lauras in the world, and there were Emilys.

The
Emilys didn’t get the happy ending.

And
they never got the prince.

The polished
middle-aged woman behind the desk glared at Paul like he was a degenerate.

It
occurred to him that she might be right.

He
didn’t have any difficulty reading her mind as she slanted him disapproving
looks while she called back to the judge to verify Paul’s request and then
searched through a stack of paperwork in her outbox.

He
was an experienced twenty-three-year-old man who was taking ruthless advantage
of the innocence and vulnerability of a seventeen-year-old girl without a
family. The woman was likely aware of Paul’s unsavory reputation and had come
to her own conclusions about his insistence on an expedited marriage license so
he could marry a girl who hadn’t yet reached legal age.

While
Paul was used to people questioning his moral credibility, the judgment in the
woman’s eyes made him slightly uncomfortable.

He
wasn’t sure he should be marrying Emily either.

Because
of an overflow of pity he hadn’t been able to control, he’d agreed to her
unconventional proposal. He couldn’t go back on his word now. It would crush
her completely.

So
he kept his expression impassive and pretended he didn’t notice the woman’s
obvious censure.

He
watched as she put the document she'd retrieved into a large envelope and
tucked the flap under the edge instead of sealing it. “Here you are, Mr. Marino.
You should have everything you need.”

He
thanked her coolly and left the office, checking inside the envelope in the
elevator to make sure everything was in order.

Going
from proposal to marriage ceremony in three days created a lot of logistical
hoops for one to jump through.

He
got a phone call as he was leaving the building, and he stopped on the sidewalk
to take it.

Emily
was waiting in the back of the waiting car as he climbed in.

“Did
you get it?” she asked, looking up from the smart phone she’d been tapping on.

He
showed her the envelope. “We are now legally allowed to wed.”

“Don’t
you feel special, pulling strings so you can hook up with a minor?” She grinned
at him in that way she had—somehow both sunny and ironic at once.

She’d
seemed depressed after her aunt died, compounded by the stress of the
approaching trial. But, ever since she’d accepted she was going to die, the
depression had faded. He didn’t think she was genuinely happy, but she acted
almost normal—as if she was determined to live out her last days with as much
good spirit as she could muster. 

Paul
couldn’t help but smile, the discomfort he’d been feeling earlier easing at the
affirmation that this marriage was exactly what Emily wanted. After all, in a
few months, she wouldn’t be alive to want anything at all.

“What
was the call?” she asked, peering at his face as if she could read something in
his expression.

“What
do you mean?” He knew exactly what she meant.

“It
seemed important, since you stood on the sidewalk for the whole phone call. And
now you look like you have a happy secret.”

He
gave a faint huff of amusement at her choice of words. “Actually, it was good
news. They gave me a job at Simone’s, thanks to you.”

“Thanks
to me?”

“Yeah.
You gave me the idea. I threatened the board with going to the press, and they
caved and gave me a position.”

“Really?”
She looked almost happy for him. “What’s the position?”

“Assistant
Vice President of Management.”

“What
does the Assistant Vice President of Management do?”

“From
what I was just told, he will evidently be the dumping ground for all tedious
or impossible projects on other people’s desks.”

She
seemed to hide a smile. “Oh. Well, at least it’s something.”

“Yeah.
It’s definitely better than nothing.”

As
his driver took them the few blocks to the law office that was handling their
pre-nup, Paul checked his messages and Emily kept tapping on her phone.

She
wore a skirt suit he’d seen her wear before—very likely the most professional
outfit she owned—and her hair was pulled up in some sort of twist. She was very
pretty, with sandy blond hair, unusually vivid blue eyes, a small, curvy figure,
and an extraordinary smile.

He
did think her top revealed more cleavage than was entirely necessary. Not that
he was in the habit of complaining about women flashing some skin, but he’d
rather not notice such things in his seventeen-year-old bride-to-be.

At
least Emily looked older than her age, so most people seeing them together
would probably not immediately peg him for a sleazebag.

When
Emily smiled down at her phone and let out a breathy laugh, his curiosity was
piqued. “Who are you texting?”

“Chris,”
she told him, glancing up before she started to reply with another message.

 “How’s
he doing?”

“He’s
fine.” Her expression was fond as she worked on her smart phone.

Paul
was silent for several minutes, since she didn’t seem to want to chat. He
reflected with a good dose of irony that tomorrow he would marry a woman who
would obviously rather talk to someone other than him.

How
many men could say the same?

*
* *

The meeting with the
lawyers about the pre-nup took less than an hour. He’d asked them to draw up a
simple contract in which the terms of their marriage were specified.