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I narrow my gaze at her sarcasm but I choose not to pursue it. Because I sense the perfect opening to deliver my pitch now that she’s hooked.
I lean forward, ensuring I have all her attention. “I don’t get everything I want, Stella. And whether I become CEO depends on how well I can play the game. If I lose, my lineage loses out, and Don gets the position.”
She shakes her head in confusion as her curiosity wins. “What game do you have to play?”
It’s now or never. I knew all the talk about my family would bring us here. That’s why I didn’t shut down her questions.
I stand, then round the table and go to her, perching on the edge. I usually don’t make eye contact with women, but this time, I need to see what her expressive green eyes are doing when I say, “Something happened to me ten years ago. I won’t bore you with details. But in order to deal the winning hand, Stella, I need to be married before I turn thirty-one.”
Her eyes get luminous but I don’t think she sees where this is going yet.
“How old are you now?”
“I’ll be thirty-one in four weeks.”
“Really! So who will you marry…” her voice trails off as her head snaps back to me in shock and disbelief when she gets it.
“Ryan?”
“Now, now, Stella. Listen.” I murmur in my best soothing tone.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No, Stella. I need you to marry me.”
Chapter Nine
Stella
I stare at the crazy man who just asked me to marry him. If he hadn’t been telling me about his family mere seconds ago, I would be inclined to think he was playing a prank. But the earnest, solemn look in his eyes tells me Ryan isn’t joking.
“Why on earth would you want to marry me?”
“I don’t want to marry you. I need to. Or else I’ll lose the only thing I care about. This company. I’m asking you to help me ensure that doesn’t happen.”
“Wow.” You really are an asshole, Ryan Fairchild.
I didn’t expect declarations of undying love. But, the casual way he just told me he didn’t care about anything except his company stung more than I care to admit.
I muster a nonchalant response. “Why on earth would you think I’d want to get married, least of all to you?”
“Because I’m prepared to pay you.”
My eyebrows fly to my hairline and I huff out a disbelieving breath “You couldn’t pay me enough to—”
“Twenty million.”
I gasp, “Twenty million dollars?”
He nods.
“Like twenty, and then six more zeroes behind it?”
“Yes, Stella.” He confirms, apparently not seeing the big deal about that figure.
What was that idiotic thing someone just said about not being able to pay me enough? Because it sure wasn’t me talking. For twenty fucking million, I wouldn’t only be his wife; I’d be his hitman. Half a million dollars alone would make all my problems disappear, and then some. Multiply that by forty times!
Come to Mama, Harriet darling!
