He was out of his bloody mind if he thought I would marry him. Especially, after I just left a room of women he had slept with and was still apparently friends with. Not to mention that he hadn’t told me he loved me, only that he cared about me. I couldn’t take the job even if I got it. Even if I wanted it, it would all be too awkward, and I was now mad at myself for wanting it. Trinity hated me. Lace looked at me skeptically. Allora certainly had fond memories of Arturo from her embarrassed smile. How could I be in the same room with those women and play in the quartet? On second thought, I could be in the group now being labeled as one of Arturo’s conquests.

I shook my head at him as I crossed my arms over my stomach and leaned against the couch. The same couch he took me up against only yesterday. He was coming on strong, and it made me nervous. He was so intense. It both thrilled me and scared me. In this case, it angered me.

“I can’t marry you,” I said softly.

“Why not?”

“I just…I just can’t.”

“What is this really about?” he asked, as he sidled up to me from where he stood across the room.

“You tell me what this is about?”

He smiled slowly, rubbing my bare arms tenderly.

“I want you to be my wife. That’s what this is about.”

“I can’t be your wife.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m still figuring out who I want to be for me.”

“That makes no sense.”

I knew he wouldn’t understand. Although I thought, if anyone, he would be the only one to get it. He knew it was important for me to be someone for me. Not because of who my father was, and not because of who Arturo was. I couldn’t be marked as another lady on his long list.

“You’re Arturo King. But who will I be?”

“You can be my queen.”

“And what does that do for me?”

“I’m selfish. It does for me.”

“I want something for me.” I paused. Then I added with confusion, “It does what for you?”

“It allows me to worship you every day the way you deserve to be worshipped. It provides me with my muse. That is what it does for me.”

“And what will it do for me?”

“It will allow me to worship you every day. The way you deserve to be worshipped.”

Well, who can argue with that?

“I love you, Guinie. More than anything. You’re my one and only. My future. Let me let go of the past.”

Of course, it wasn’t a real proposal. After he made love to me on the couch this time, he assured me that he was going to ask me to marry him again for real in a traditional manner. He added that he wanted my father’s blessing. I had to laugh because I knew that my father really liked Arturo, but I wasn’t sure he would give his blessing for a marriage after only a few weeks of being with him.

Like a thief in the night, I snuck out of Arturo’s bed, and went home to my own room that night. I needed to gather my thoughts without the suffocating presence of Arturo. It wasn’t suffocating in a smothering way; it was suffocating in an all-consuming way. A way that I knew would break me if something went wrong. I got a hint to add to my concern when I went to see my father in the morning. His office door was slightly open, but I could hear heated voices on the other side.

“Things are moving rather quickly, don’t you think?” my father said.

“I think it’s moving in our favor, Leo.” I recognized the voice of Kaye Sirs immediately.

“This isn’t like her. She didn’t come home on Sunday night. She came in after two AM this morning. I won’t have her be one of his groupies.”

“She’s not going to be a groupie. She’s an asset, Leo, and you know it. He asked for your permission to marry her, already.”

I sucked in a breath as I listened and covered my mouth in horror. How could my father already know and not mention it? How could Arturo play it off like he hadn’t already asked my father?

“She’s not an asset; she’s my daughter.”

“You know what I mean,” Kaye interrupted the angry growl of my father. “She’s a bonus. If she makes Arturo happy, he’s more likely to follow through with signing over control of the company to us. You have the upper hand because Guinevere is your daughter and he wants her.”

My eyebrows pinched together as I tried to process what I was hearing. Was I being bought and sold for business? What business did my father and Kaye want from Arturo?

“I might want to run Camelot Records because this bar scene is getting old to me, but I’m not trading my daughter to secure Arturo’s promise. Either he gives me control because he has faith in me, or he doesn’t give me the position. Guinie is not a bargaining chip.”

“Leo, you understand that she can be. You give your permission for them to marry, and he gives you the company in return. You planned it this way yourself. You introduced them in hopes that Guinie would win him over to the idea.”

Bile rose in my mouth. It had all been a setup. He forced us together for that fateful walk in hopes of … in hopes of gaining a company. He kept up the ruse encouraging me to go upstate with the band. He knew that if Arturo paid me any attention, I might win him over. That’s what I had been trained for all my life. The society functions as the quiet companion to my father all those years. I was out of the rock-and-roll scene, so I could charm my way into it. No, so Leo DeGrance could charm his way into a company.

“Guinevere?”

Talia’s sweet voice behind me made me jump. I turned to look at her in slow motion. Her forehead crinkled in concern as she told me that Arturo was waiting for me in the living room. At the same time she spoke, my father opened the door to find me outside his office, standing frozen with my mouth literally gaping open.

“Guinevere?” he questioned with a firm tone, before realization crossed his face. He noticed my rigid stance.

“Guinie, honey, come into my office? Let me explain.”

I was rooted to the carpet in the hall. My feet wouldn’t move. I couldn’t form a sound to respond to my father.

“Guinie?”

Arturo’s voice behind me was the final straw. I turned to him, all my anger funneled at him when it shouldn’t have been. He stood sheepishly with his hands tucked in his jeans’ pockets; his hair still damp from a shower. He actually kicked at nothing on the floor before he spoke.

“Where did you go last night?”

“Home,” my father answered over my shoulder. “Arturo, this isn’t a good time. I think you need to leave.”

“No,” I squeaked out. Arturo took this as an invitation to move toward me.

“No,” I said to him as well, putting my hand up to stop his motion.

“I’ll leave instead,” I replied, and mustered the strength to exit through the emergency stairs, next to the elevator that adjoined the two halves of The Round Table: my father’s business, and what I thought was my home.