“I trust you, Molly. I don’t trust many people. I especially do not trust many women. But, I trust you.”
That much was completely true, he silently consoled himself. There wasn’t a woman on Earth he trusted more than Molly Ramsey. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the way she was raised, or if it was just the innate purity she held in her soul, but the woman she’d become didn’t know how to lie. Not convincingly.
Oh, he’d seen her try to tell some half-hearted whoppers over the years, but they’d always fallen flat. His Molly simply didn’t have the poker face it took to pull off prevarication.
Unlike him.
He had made an art form of deceit and dishonesty. In his business, it was a requirement. He’d never broken the law, but he wasn’t above projecting one image to somebody while clandestinely aiming for an entirely different goal. He played the game and he played it well.
For him, the end justified the means.
It’s what had made him so successful. Hell, he’d gotten rich by wheeling and dealing. Unfortunately, it also might be the one aspect of his personality that guaranteed him to fail with Molly.
Being completely honest with her now, however, would be a mistake. If she knew just how deeply he felt for her, she’d either assume he was lying and cut him off at the knees – or separate him from something much more important that he was fairly certain he could not live without. Or - and this was the part he worried about the most - the truth would send her screaming for the hills.
Either way, she’d never agree to become his wife.
And that was not an option he was willing to contemplate.
So, for now, he wouldn’t outright lie to her, but instead simply tell her the partial truths she needed to know in order to make her peace with marrying him. After that, he’d have more time to make sure he could get the future he truly wanted.
“You trust me,” she echoed, lifting startled eyes to his.
“That surprises you?” he asked with a hint of a smile. Pleased, he realized that he’d said something that had given her a moment’s pause.
“I never really thought about it before,” she admitted with a small frown.
“Molly, do you know why ninety percent of the women I date want to be with me?” he asked, propping his chin on his hand as he stared into her confused eyes.
“Oh, I’ve got a pretty good idea,” she mumbled, blushing as she reached for her coffee and gulped, barely wincing as the liquid scalded her tongue.
Snorting, Devil shook his head. “No, honey, you really don’t.” His future bride was truly convinced that he was a horndog that fucked any woman that twitched her tail in his direction. He wasn’t sure how to overcome that misconception. Especially since he was the idiot that had cultivated his reputation.
He only knew he had to try and make her understand that what she’d believed for so long wasn’t entirely accurate. He just needed to be careful about the methods he used to do it. Waiting until she’d put her mug back on the table, he remarked, “Molly, I’m very rich.”
“So what?” Molly shrugged and rolled her eyes.
“Exactly. That’s one of the many reason that you’re the only woman for me,” he said with a wide smile. He adored the fact that Molly didn’t give a damn about what he could offer her materially. Oh, he’d give her anything she wanted. There was no doubt in his mind about that. But, like his Nana, the promise of monetary compensation wasn’t what guided her decisions. It hadn’t ever crossed his intended’s mind that she could milk him for every penny he had. It wasn’t her style.
“Huh?” Molly grunted, cocking her head as she looked at him like he’d lost his mind.
“You don’t care,” he commented with a satisfied nod.
“Devil, I’m not following a word you’re saying. How hard did I hit you last night? You got a concussion?” Molly worried aloud, peering at his forehead with concern.
Chuckling, Devil sighed. “My head is fine. What I’m trying to say is that most of those women I’ve dated were only interested in one thing. My money, Mols. They wanted what they could get from me. With you, I’d never have to worry about that. You couldn’t give a damn how much wealth I’ve accumulated.”
“Meaning I won’t rob you blind when we inevitably divorce,” Molly surmised, leaning back in her chair as she grabbed her half-eaten doughnut and took another bite. “Okay, you’ve got a point there.”
“Thank you, but that’s not exactly what I meant,” he murmured uncomfortably. The words “inevitably” and “divorce” sent a chill down his spine. He hadn’t even married her, and she already had one eye focused on a divorce. He knew he shouldn’t blame her. As far as she was concerned, this was a farce...but it still stung.
Rubbing her temples, Molly groaned and peered into her now empty coffee cup. “I need more coffee if I’m gonna continue this conversation,” she muttered.
“I’ll get it,” he offered, grabbing her mug before she could rise. “You know, you’ve made a lot of assumptions about me, Molly Brown. Some of them aren’t correct, you know,” he informed her over his shoulder as he poured her a second cup of coffee. “Some of them could even be considered downright slanderous to my good name,” he stated pointedly, carrying her cup back to the table and sliding it in front of her. “Did you know character assassination is a crime in most courts of law?” he asked, just to goad her. A man had to have his hobbies, after all.
At that remark, Molly strangled on her sip of coffee, spewing the brew across the table. Reaching for a napkin, she blotted the mess as she continued to cough. “Are you serious?” she managed to choke through her gasps for air. “Your good name? Character assassination?” she croaked, blinking back the tears that had formed in her eyes. “Devil, you may be the biggest jackass Atlanta has ever produced!”
“See what I mean?” he asked with a smirk, delighting in the flush that slowly crept up her neck as he calmly reached for a napkin and blotted the coffee droplets clinging to his face. “Character assassination.”
He ducked as the first donut went sailing through the air.
He might be the ass she accused him of being, but luckily for him, he also had lightning fast reflexes.