Page 58 of To Tango, with Desire

“What, you’re just gonna throw money at me? You can do that without marriage, you know.”

“And where would the fun in that be?”

“I don’t want you interfering in my business. I want to earn it and pay for it on my own.”

Annoyance turned into low-key anger.

“You’d suffer on your own rather than have my money help you?”

“It’s my business.”

“Wake up, Amira. Money buys you everything in this life. I’m an entrepreneur through hard work, yes, but there were a lot of other factors that led to my success. It’s not just luck. It’s who you know and, bottom line, how much capital you have. Money leads to success. It breeds more money, and if you want to set yourself up in life, you’d better learn how to accept help. Being stubborn won’t do anything for your business prospects.”

“And being an asshole won’t do anything for you in this marriage. You forget we aren’t officially engaged, not in my mind. I can walk away from this deal at any time.”

I braced myself, ignoring the gripping icy sensation in my chest. “Walk and your father doesn’t get the help he needs. He’s got an appointment with the senior surgeon on Wednesday, doesn’t he? I’m the one who had him bumped up the list. I’m the one paying for his private health insurance. I’m not doing it for my own damn ego, but for you. Don’t forget, I take care of what’s mine. And that’s you. And your business.”

“That’s emotional blackmail.”

I gritted my teeth. “It’s a low blow. I admit that. But do you remember when I told you I always—”

“Get what you want. I know that. What about what I want?” She leaned forward and the engagement ring shifted on its chain. “I have my store. I have a room upstairs if my parents kick me out. I can walk away from everything and everyone and watch it all burn.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

“You care about your family too much to do that.”

“I care about myself more.”

I hesitated, just long enough to study her face. All I could see was cold determination. A part of me admired her spirit, her desire to do things her way, but it frustrated me. Here I sat, one of the wealthiest men in the world, and the woman who was to become my wife wouldn’t take my money when it would help her achieve her dreams.

It was maddening. Infuriating.

Disgustingly admirable.

“You forget I have money and power and if I want to make you crawl and beg to me, then I will.” I sat up, placing my palms flat on the desk. “But I appreciate that you want to do what’s right for your business. If you want my help, I’ll wait until you ask it of me. But—” I noted the satisfaction in her eyes and had to bite back a grin. “I want you to meet with my business adviser. To talk through your strategy. I won’t be there for the meeting, but I think this will help your business to grow.”

“Fine. But no other interference. I won’t take your handouts.”

“Agreed. However.” I noted the way her smile faltered. “I will be paying you a monthly allowance. Wait—” I held up my finger. “You’ll want evening gowns, designer shoes, handbags, a whole new wardrobe. The money I place in that account every month is yours. You can do with it what you like. This isn’t up for negotiation.”

I watched the thin line form at her mouth.

“Fine,” she muttered. “But I want a six-month trial period.”

“Excuse me?”

“If, after six months, we decide we can’t be married, we get an annulment or a divorce. Get your lawyers to write that up.”

“Six months is a honeymoon.”

“And no sex.”

“No.” The word exploded from my mouth. I clenched my fists, keeping my anger in check.

“Those are my terms. I don’t want this marriage to be clouded by lust and desire. Zane, if we’re going to make this work, then we need to actually get to know one another. And I can’t do that when you touch me.”