Prologue

“Marry me, Lottie.”

Those were the words most women dreamed of hearing from the man they’d been dating for the last year. Most women would be hanging on every sappy, thought-out word of the proposal with teary eyes and a smile that reached their ears. Not me. Not this woman. Those words caused a heavy pulse to pound loudly in my ears and air to get trapped by the heavy weight on my chest. But not for the same reasons it would for most women. Pure panic. That was all I felt.

I could barely hear David as he pledged his undying love for me. As I looked across the table and down at the ring he held in a little, black box, all I could do was think about how I was about to knock him off his emotional high, how I was about to break his heart and tell him no.

Don’t get me wrong. David was great. Do I love him? Have I ever actually reciprocated his ‘I love you’ when he said it?

Love was a pretty strong word. I guess I loved him—or more accurately strongly cared for him. I wasn’t in love with him, though…now the ring. The ring I could fall in love with. How many carats is that thing? It almost had me second-guessing whether I should say yes. I wonder if he’d let me keep it, anyway? No that would be a bitch thing to ask, even for me.

My stomach rolled as I dragged my sweaty palms down my dress pants, dreading the moment he’d stop talking. That exact moment was when he’d look at me, hopeful and expectant. It was when I’d have to tell him we wanted different things in life, and it would never work.

I was not ready for that moment. I was not prepared for that moment at all. At least, not tonight.

No. Definitely not tonight. Tonight was supposed to be in honor of my impending thirtieth birthday. I was headed to Milan in the morning for a work trip. David insisted on us going to dinner tonight to celebrate early. He’d been anxious to celebrate the big three-o with me. I guess it all made sense now. The ring had obviously been burning a hole in his pocket. Or maybe he took me for one of those women who dreaded their thirties. Dreaded being unwed and unengaged at thirty.

Maybe that was the problem with David and me. He obviously didn’t know me well. Didn’t know I looked forward to my thirties. That getting married was the last thing on my mind. In fact, I didn’t ever want to get married. I wasn’t the kind of woman who dreamed of her wedding day or wanted a house full of kids. Nope. Not me. Ever.

Oh, no. His eyes started to brim with tears. Shit. This was not going to go well. David was a prideful man. He had an ego the size of his cock and his bank account. Rightfully so. Both were large. It was one of the reasons I’d stayed with him for a year now—for the sex, not the money. The sex was off the charts. I normally ended things with men at the three-month mark. It was deliberate. A safeguard to avoid situations like this.

Men for me were like a new pair of shoes. An impulsive decision. My favorites until they weren’t. Until they became too painful to force myself to keep. The blisters they brought no longer worth it.

Yes, David Cumming was not going to take this well. Cumming. His last name alone was reason enough for me to refuse his proposal. Cumming. Ugh. I could never.

My sorry excuse for parents not only left me with relationship and trust issues, but they named me the worst possible name they could. Alotta. Understandably, I went by Lottie, and few people knew my birth name—Alotta Louise Davis.

Mrs. Alotta Cumming. I cringed at the thought. Though with David, it would be an accurate description of our relationship. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he took my last name instead. Mr. David Davis. That had a nice ring to it. He would never, though. He had that ego after all.

I smiled at the fact I was crazy enough to even be considering name options in the moment. It must be the ring making me think of the possibilities. Shit. He caught me smiling. Now he was smiling even wider, incorrectly interpreting my smile.