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“I feel like an idiot; I had no idea. I guess I thought you looked a little familiar, but I just thought that you were maybe a model or one of those sexy thirst trap influencers who do outfit videos, but no, you’re the man who recently bought the Chicago Blackhawks.”
“Sexy influencers?”
“You know, the guys who show different outfits and do transitions where they jump”—she proceeds to hop in place, her breasts swaying with her movement—“and then they’re in another outfit.”
“And they’re sexy?” I stifle a chuckle as a blush creeps up her neck, but I don’t linger on the subject. “Shall we continue our discussion?”
“I’m sorry.” She shakes her head and walks back toward me, her delicious hips swaying with the movement. “I’m still having trouble wrapping my head around your?—”
“Proposal?” I interject.
“Yes.” She says the word slowly, realizing that I did, in fact, just propose to her. “I feel a little embarrassed. I thought you were asking me…” She looks down at her feet, her cheeks redder than ever.
“On a date?” I finish. Her head whips upward and her eyes light up, and my stomach drops at the rapid change to disappointment when I answer her. “No, I am not asking you on a date. I guess jumping straight to proposing might seem romantic, but I assure you this marriage arrangement, if you will, would be purely transactional, a business agreement,” I say, internally reminding myself that is exactly what this is, nothing more.
“Business agreement?” Her expression transforms as she struggles to understand what I’m saying. “I don’t—” Her face scrunches. “Can we start with why you need to get married?”
I walk back around my desk and reach for the contract, sliding it across toward her. “Due to an unfortunate clause in my father’s trust he left to me, I have to be married to inherit it when it matures on my fortieth birthday. Which is the reason why I need to get married. There is no way around it, no loophole, no legality that I can get around, unfortunately, so I’ve decided the next best option is to be completely transparent with someone that too would benefit from my predicament.”
“Benefit how?”
“Payment, of course.” I reach into my desk drawer and pull out a pen to place next to the contract for her. I lean back in my chair as she picks up the document and begins to look it over. “Obviously, I’d expect you to take that and have a lawyer read it over before signing it, but the terms would be that we would need to be legally married within ten days of you signing that document, after which you would move into my residence where you’ll live, with your own room, of course. All your expenses would be paid for during that time and you will be allowed to live as you please, just no partners during that time as this needs to be seen as legitimate. After one year, you will be given a no-contest divorce and you’ll be able to keep any and all assets acquired during the marriage.”
She lifts her eyes from the document. “What’s in the trust?”
I hesitate, not a question I was expecting, but there’s no point in lying. I need her to say yes. “The majority shares of the company I’ve dedicated my life to.”
“And why is his one requirement that you be married for a year?”
I run my hand over my jaw, thinking through how to explain things in the most concise way. “Basically, my father didn’t feel I deserved the company unless I had an heir to pass it along to. He thought that by tricking me into marriage, I’d end up falling in love and having kids. What he didn’t expect was for me to beat him at his own game and just find someone who would agree to a contractual marriage with all terms outlined, thus mitigating any chances of love, children, or staying together.” She stares at me, unblinking, most likely shocked at my bluntness about how fucked up my family is. “My father had a sick sense of humor.” I smile, attempting to soften the fuckery.
She nods, offering a nervous laugh before going back to the contract.
“I’m sure I am only adding to the growing list of questions you have but I’m happy to answer them for you. As for our relationship, like I said, it would be purely transactional. There will be events I will need you to attend as my wife for work, but you will not be required, expected, or desired to do any… wifely duties.”
“Wifely duties?” Her hand drops into her lap and at first I think she’s playing coy but she has a genuine furrow of confusion to her brow.
“Sex, Miss Porter. This contract has no requirements for sex, as that would obviously be illegal, but beyond that, sex or any sort of sexual relationship between us is neither required, expected, nor wanted on my end.”
“Oh.” Her face drops and I almost think she’s going to cry, but then her expression turns a touch angry. “So, you thought you could bribe me into marrying you because what—you think I have a crush on you or something?”
“No, not at all. In fact, I think if you did have a crush on me, you would have given me your number, but your friend did because she wants you to like me.” She focuses her scowl on me. “I thought that we could both benefit from a problem that I have. Obviously, I would get the majority shares of the company and you would receive a payment of at least one million dollars, along with the other benefits I mentioned earlier.”
“A million dollars?” Her mouth hangs open. Now I have her attention. “Lead with that.”
“At a minimum, should you want to negotiate, I’m more than willing. I have no interest in lying to you about any of the details of this contract, Miss Porter. All I want is to fulfill this requirement of my father’s trust in the most simple and smooth way possible. No complications.”
“And marrying for love is a complication?”
“Indeed.” I smile. “It’s not an option at this point in time and frankly, I don’t have the time or desire to embroil myself with someone romantically.”
“Or sexually,” she reiterates my point from earlier.
“Also a complication. And since it seems neither of us want to fuck each other, I’d call it a win-win situation.”
She flinches at my brash word choice. “Wow, what an elaborate way to let me know you have zero interest in me physically or romantically.” She laughs.
“My apologies. That wasn’t my intention. I guess I’m not very good at proposing.”
