Read Online The Mogul's Maybe Marriage by Mindy Klasky - Free Book Online
Authors: Mindy Klasky
Tags: Romance, Contemporary
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his fiancée a reprieve, and so he would. Just like with the genetic testing.
Grandmother might be unhappy when she learned the truth. But Sloaneâs happiness was far more important to Ethan now. Grandmother would just have to wait.
Â
Sloane knew she should be grateful. Precisely as Ethan had described, Daniel retrieved her from herapartment, lifting her suitcase with one hand, firmly grasping her elbow with the other. He led her past the soaking-wet reporters, growling the âno commentâ that sheâd already come to understand was now her standard way of life. He settled her in the back of yet another Town Car, taking the driverâs seat himself.
James greeted her at the house. Sloane had to smile. The older man looked like somebodyâs uncle. He wore neat khakis and a polo shirt that barely managed to cover his potbelly. He took Sloaneâs bag from Daniel, nodding an amiable dismissal, and then he ushered her into the kitchen. A cup of chamomile tea and a fresh-baked cinnamon roll later, Sloane was almost ready to believe that being transplanted to Ethanâs home was a good thing.
She had the better part of the day to think about it, and the evening besides. Ethan sent a message through James. Some production matter had come up at the Swiss plant, and he was going to be late coming home.
A production matter. On a Saturday.
Sloane shivered in the aggressive air conditioning.
What was she getting into? Who was this man she had agreed to marry? A workaholic who spent his entire life at the office? She needed better for their baby. She would fight for more.
James showed Sloane into the library. He helped her log on to a laptop computer kept for the convenience of guests. She sighed at the springy touch of the keyboard, so unlike the brick that sheâd rescued from her own apartment. She was eager to get back to work on the Hope Project. But tomorrow would be soon enough. She had even more important work to do. She needed to organize her thoughts.
Taking a deep breath, she clicked on the button thatlaunched a word processor. Half an hour later, she was still staring at an empty document. What, exactly, did she want from Ethan? What did she expect to get out of their marriage? And why was she so afraid to commit anything to a silly computer file?
Ethan Hartwell, she finally typed across the top of the screen. To delay a little more, she retyped his name, in all capitals. She made the font bold, and she underscored the two words, hitting the enter key twice to place the cursor at the beginning of a new line.
Unable to delay further, she typed a new word. Trust. She needed to trust Ethan. Needed to believe that he would always be there for her and the baby, that his days of playboy escapades were over forever.
Respect, she added. She needed Ethan to respect her. To appreciate what was important to herâthe Hope Project, for exampleâeven if he never fully embraced it himself.
Friendship, she typed. She stared at the cursor blinking after the word. What did she mean by friendship? She didnât have enough practice to understand the concept herself. Shaking her head, she backspaced carefully.
Partnership, she wrote instead. She and Ethan needed to be equals. They needed to talk, to share, to accept each other on level ground.
Trust. Respect. Partnership.
That sounded more like a formula for a business arrangement than for a marriage. But what else could she type? âTrue loveâ? How could she demand that? How could Ethan promise it? True love was something that either happened or it didnât; it couldnât be subject to negotiation.
Sloane sighed, and then she typed something else, atthe bottom of her list. A dateâa deadline for their wedding. The baby was due at the end of December. Add three months to get back in shape. Another three months to actually plan the wedding. June 1 of next year. That was the earliest that they could get married, the first
Grandmother might be unhappy when she learned the truth. But Sloaneâs happiness was far more important to Ethan now. Grandmother would just have to wait.
Â
Sloane knew she should be grateful. Precisely as Ethan had described, Daniel retrieved her from herapartment, lifting her suitcase with one hand, firmly grasping her elbow with the other. He led her past the soaking-wet reporters, growling the âno commentâ that sheâd already come to understand was now her standard way of life. He settled her in the back of yet another Town Car, taking the driverâs seat himself.
James greeted her at the house. Sloane had to smile. The older man looked like somebodyâs uncle. He wore neat khakis and a polo shirt that barely managed to cover his potbelly. He took Sloaneâs bag from Daniel, nodding an amiable dismissal, and then he ushered her into the kitchen. A cup of chamomile tea and a fresh-baked cinnamon roll later, Sloane was almost ready to believe that being transplanted to Ethanâs home was a good thing.
She had the better part of the day to think about it, and the evening besides. Ethan sent a message through James. Some production matter had come up at the Swiss plant, and he was going to be late coming home.
A production matter. On a Saturday.
Sloane shivered in the aggressive air conditioning.
What was she getting into? Who was this man she had agreed to marry? A workaholic who spent his entire life at the office? She needed better for their baby. She would fight for more.
James showed Sloane into the library. He helped her log on to a laptop computer kept for the convenience of guests. She sighed at the springy touch of the keyboard, so unlike the brick that sheâd rescued from her own apartment. She was eager to get back to work on the Hope Project. But tomorrow would be soon enough. She had even more important work to do. She needed to organize her thoughts.
Taking a deep breath, she clicked on the button thatlaunched a word processor. Half an hour later, she was still staring at an empty document. What, exactly, did she want from Ethan? What did she expect to get out of their marriage? And why was she so afraid to commit anything to a silly computer file?
Ethan Hartwell, she finally typed across the top of the screen. To delay a little more, she retyped his name, in all capitals. She made the font bold, and she underscored the two words, hitting the enter key twice to place the cursor at the beginning of a new line.
Unable to delay further, she typed a new word. Trust. She needed to trust Ethan. Needed to believe that he would always be there for her and the baby, that his days of playboy escapades were over forever.
Respect, she added. She needed Ethan to respect her. To appreciate what was important to herâthe Hope Project, for exampleâeven if he never fully embraced it himself.
Friendship, she typed. She stared at the cursor blinking after the word. What did she mean by friendship? She didnât have enough practice to understand the concept herself. Shaking her head, she backspaced carefully.
Partnership, she wrote instead. She and Ethan needed to be equals. They needed to talk, to share, to accept each other on level ground.
Trust. Respect. Partnership.
That sounded more like a formula for a business arrangement than for a marriage. But what else could she type? âTrue loveâ? How could she demand that? How could Ethan promise it? True love was something that either happened or it didnât; it couldnât be subject to negotiation.
Sloane sighed, and then she typed something else, atthe bottom of her list. A dateâa deadline for their wedding. The baby was due at the end of December. Add three months to get back in shape. Another three months to actually plan the wedding. June 1 of next year. That was the earliest that they could get married, the first
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