“I . . . no one told me that,” she says, her voice quiet.
“You could leave and never look back,” I continue, my tone flat but honest. “But you’d be leaving a lot of people’s futures hanging in the balance.”
I know this because, even when I couldn’t care less, I’ve heard it before. Keir—the suit of the family—just gave me a whole damn economy lecture while I told him to shove Old Birchwood Timber wherever it would fit and leave me the fuck alone.“Sell it, manage it, but don’t just abandon it, asshole,” he said.
Galeana sits quietly for a moment, staring at the papers on the table like they hold all the answers she’s been looking for. Then, finally, she looks up, meeting my gaze dead-on. “Marry me.”
The words land like a bomb. The silence stretches, thick and deafening.
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” she says, like it’s the most logical thing in the world. “Marry me. At least for a year.”
I stare at her, trying to process the insanity of what just came out of her mouth. I mean sure, I came here to propose but the last thing I expected was for her to be the one doing it.
“You want me to marry you?” I let out a disbelieving laugh. “Galeana, you don’t even like me.”
“That’s not true,” she argues, though she doesn’t sound completely convincing. “And besides, it’s just business. I have rules.”
“Rules?”
She nods, leaning forward like she’s about to negotiate a corporate merger. “First, we’ll sign a prenup. You can’t touch the money or the company. Everything stays mine.”
“Generous,” I mutter, fighting back a grin.
“Second,” she continues, ignoring me, “it’s temporary. Once the year’s up, we’re done. No strings. No drama.”
I lean back, pretending to consider, even as my brain is already spinning. She’s serious about this. Marrying her. A year of playing house. A year of her mouth, her fire, her?—
Then an idea hits me, and a slow grin curls at the edges of my mouth. “What exactly am I getting out of this deal, darling? Because right now, it sounds pretty one-sided.”
She hesitates, clearly caught off guard. “I’ll . . . pay you a fee, I guess.”
“I don’t need money.” I tilt my head, enjoying the way she’s squirming under my gaze. “You have anything else to offer?”
Her cheeks flush, and for once, she doesn’t have a comeback.
So I decide to spell it out for her. Slowly. Deliberately.
“We’re not just going to be pretend spouses,” I say, letting my voice drop low. Her eyes widen as I lean in, the tension crackling between us like a live wire. “We’re going to be pretend spouseswith benefits.”
Her jaw drops, her face going crimson. “Benefits? What kind of benefits? You need health insurance?”
“Don’t play dumb, professor. You’re smarter than that.” I grin, letting my gaze dip, just enough to make her shift in her seat. “I get you. Your mouth. Your perky tits. That pussy I’ve been dying to taste since Italy. Hell, even your ass. A year’s a long time to play house without enjoying the perks.”
She looks like she’s about to throw me out a window. Or kiss me. Honestly, I’m fine with either.
Her lips part, and her voice comes out breathless and sharp. “You’re unbelievable.”
I grin, slow and wicked. “And yet, here you are. Asking me to marry you.”
“You’re impossible,” she mutters, standing abruptly and pacing the room.
“Maybe,” I reply, watching her with a smug grin. “But you’re the one who proposed, remember? I’m just making the terms a little more . . . fun.”
“There has to be another way,” she says, almost pleading.
“Nope. That’s my price, take it or leave it.”
