Page 148 of To Tango, with Desire

“Hear me out.”

“You had your secretary call me to say to come by for an urgent discussion this evening. I thought something was wrong.”

“It’s important.”

Amira glared. I had to fight against my desire to cross the room and kiss her senseless. The woman was infuriating and gorgeous all at the same time.

No wonder I was in love with her.

Knowing it, feeling it in my very soul, shifted something in me. Something that I’d kept locked away for a long time. I wanted to prove how much I loved her, to show her how I felt.

“Take a seat.”

“Zane, I want to go home. I’m behind on Christmas orders and haven’t even gotten presents for my nieces and nephews yet.”

I leaned forward in my chair. “We’ll courier them gifts. Hear me out, woman. I arranged this meeting at the end of our day so as not to disturb you.”

“So why can’t we have this conversation in the car?”

“Because you’re not my wife in this meeting. You’re a fashion designer, an entrepreneur, and someone I want to do business with. So sit.”

She huffed and walked over to my desk. “Fine.” With eyes snapping, she sat down, crossing her legs.

I knew she wanted to find fault with my logic, but I had long ago realized that Amira appreciated when I did things in reason, when I wasn’t just maneuvering her or using my wealth to clear a path. She would appreciate being respected as a peer and not a subordinate. In my mind, she’d been my equal from day one.

Not only in business, but in marriage. And it was the respect I had for her that had led me to this moment. I wanted to make her dreams come true. She needed someone who believed in her to make that happen.

“The reason I’ve called you in is because I want to draw up a contract.”

“We already have one.”

“Not the marriage contract.” I scowled, annoyed that the fucking thing even existed.

“Okay.”

“A business one.”

An uncomfortable sensation settled between my shoulders. Our anniversary was fast approaching, and the thought of Amira walking out once it was over left me feeling terrified.

That wasn’t an option.

We were married. We were partners. But perhaps she was counting down the days? Would I wake up one day in May to find her bags packed? Our marriage over?

She had every right to leave me after our twelve months were through. Her father was dead. Her mother had disowned her. The reasons for her staying married to me were no longer valid.

I shivered.

I wouldn’t let that happen.

But I was all too well aware of the fact that I had no power over her. I may have married Amira under pressure, but she was her own woman. She was successful, her business was booming . . . and she had no need for a husband.

“Zane?”

My mouth was dry.

“Yes.”

“You said a business contract?”