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“Of course.” He spread his hand and gestured at her. “Let’s work the details out.”
“Well, for starters, I need a roommate.” Her apartment was nice, but she’d give it up in a heartbeat if it meant crashing on someone else’s couch, just so she wouldn’t have to be alone. Plus, her Etsy soap shop wasn’t bringing in the cash that she needed to keep a NoHo apartment. It barely made enough for subway fare and food. Pisa hadn’t minded, but now that Pisa was gone, well . . . she was going to have to step up production and get creative to make more money.
“I have a penthouse off of Park Avenue. Six bedrooms. You can come stay with me.” His big shoulders shrugged. “We’d have to cohabit to make a sham marriage work anyhow.”
Oh, wow. She hadn’t really thought that far ahead. “Okay, you’re right. We’ll go with your place. Separate rooms I assume?” Her voice sounded prim.
“Absolutely. Once we’re inside, nobody has to know what goes on.” He grimaced. “Well, except for the staff.”
“Staff?”
“I have maids and an assistant.” His smile curled up on one side. “You don’t think I’d clean six bedrooms myself, do you?”
He had a point. Most guys she knew of did well picking up their dirty socks. “I’ll need an extra bedroom for my business, too. Preferably close to a bathroom or a kitchen.”
“There’s two kitchens. You can have one of them . . . after you remind me what it is you do again.”
“I make soaps and sell them online.”
His blank look told her that it was clearly something he’d never considered before. “People buy soap online?”
She chuckled. “Oh, heck yes. Mine are artisan soaps, and I have a vegan line that’s very popular.”
“Vegan soap? Why is soap vegan?” His lip curled.
“Because people oppose using animals?”
“Yes, but you’re not eating the soap, are you?”
“It’s still made with glycerin, which is made from animal hooves.” She leaned over and elbow checked him. “Can we not get distracted by soap talk? We’re discussing room arrangements. And since you’re the billionaire, I’m going to need you to pay for me to break my lease.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You gonna pay me back?”
“Hey, you need me. I don’t need you,” she said, voice teasing. Truth was, she kind of did need him. The thought of another person puttering around the house—even if it was his house—filled her with such relief that she knew she was going to take him up on this ridiculous offer, no matter how weird it got.
“Fair enough. I’ll break your lease for you.” He nudged her back with his elbow, a buddy move. “And you need a kitchen for soap. That’s easily done. And I can make the staff sign NDAs about our sleeping arrangements.”
“Or we can just tell them you snore.”
“Or we can do that.”
Chelsea drummed her fingers, thinking. There was a lot to consider with a marriage. “Do I need to take your name?”
“I don’t know. You think it’ll be suspicious if you don’t?” He rubbed his chin, thinking.
“Maybe we can hyphenate. How long is this sham marriage thing going to last? If we’re only doing this for a few months, there’s no point in changing my name.”
“It has to be longer than a few months, or that’ll cause more scandal than it’ll fix.” Sebastian considered. “Would you be okay with two years?”
Two years and she’d be tied to him? It seemed like a long time to date someone . . . but then again, this was platonic. She wasn’t interested in him romantically, just as a friend. And she’d lived with Pisa for three years, and that had gone by in a blink. “We can do two.”
He looked relieved. “You’re pretty easygoing about this.”
Chelsea shrugged. “I’m not after your money, so what’s there to argue over? I assume you want a prenup? I’m really not interested in cashing in.”
“Oh, there will need to be an ironclad prenup or my lawyers will freak the fuck out.” He grinned. “But I’ll give you a settlement. Whatever you think is fair.”
“One million dollars,” she said, quoting Dr. Evil. She raised a pinky to her mouth.
Either he didn’t get her joke, or he didn’t realize she was joking. “A million’s fine. You do know this will be in the tabloids for a month or two, right?”
