“Let me get this straight,” he said, leaning back in his leather chair. “You barged into my building without an appointment, demanded to see me, ignored my secretary, and now you’re asking me to marry you.”
“Yes,” I said, lifting my chin.
He blinked once. Twice. “You’re still married, Nadine.”
“Not really.” I slid a thick envelope across his desk. “I already filed for divorce.”
His brows rose. “You filed this fast?”
“My mother helped,” I said simply. “So yes. I’m free. And you—” I looked him straight in the eye “—you can marry me now.”
His lips curved. Not kindly. Not mockingly. More like someone fascinated by a fire spreading across a field. “Why me?”
Because Lewis once told me to stay away from Isaac Halt. Because Lewis hated him. Because Isaac was the one man Lewis never beat, never intimidated, never matched. Because Isaac is everything Lewis pretends to be. But I didn’t say that.
Instead, I said, “I heard you were looking for a wife.”
That got his attention. A slow, assessing look swept over me.
“And what exactly,” he asked, voice dropping, “do you think you can offer me?”
“Everything.”
Isaac’s brows arched slightly.