"Complicated."
"That's a diplomatic way of putting it." She looks at me directly. "Can I ask you something?"
"You can ask."
"Why two months? Specifically?"
"The acquisition should close within eight weeks. The media cycle will have moved on. The board will have stopped circling. It's adequate time."
"Adequate time," she echoes. "For fake marriage maintenance."
"For managing a situation neither of us intended to be in."
She's quiet for a long moment, and I can see her struggling with this, likely trying to find the humor, the angle, the way to maintain some semblance of control.
Finally, she speaks. "I need some time to think about this."
"You have until end of day."
Her hazel eyes flash—just for a moment. "That's not very much time for a major life decision. I usually spend longer deciding what to order for lunch."
"It's enough time to review the terms and make a decision." I pick up a file from my desk and extend it toward her. "These are the specifics. Read them. And then let me know."
She takes the file with unsteady hands.
"Is there anything else, Miss Beaumont?” I ask.
"Just—" She hesitates. "This situation. It doesn't change anything about my job evaluation, right? I'll still be judged on my actual work?"
The vulnerability in the question catches me off guard.
"Your job performance will be evaluated separately," I say. "This arrangement is about managing a personal situation. Not your career."
She nods. "Okay. Thank you for clarifying that. Because I really do want this job. For the job. Not because of..." She gestures vaguely between us. "The accidental marriage situation."
"Noted."
She stands, clutching the file. "I'll read these and get back to you by five."
"Good."
She's almost at the door when she pauses, glancing back. “And Mr. Kade? It is…okay if I call you, Mr. Kade?”
I exhale. “Yes, Miss Beaumont?”
"For what it's worth, I think your office could really benefit from a plant. Maybe a succulent. Something low-maintenance that won't judge you for your life choices."
And before I can respond, she's gone.
I sit there for a long moment, staring at the door.
Harper Beaumont is smart enough to be scared, smart enough to understand the power differential. But she can't quite help herself. Frankly, the tiny brunette is mouthy. Insubordinate.
And, despite how it makes my cock twitch in my slacks, way too damn independent for her own good.
This would be much easier if Harper Beaumont was the kind of woman who would simply obey orders, get in line.
But from what I can tell of my new “spouse,” she’s definitely not. And frankly, I have no time in my life for the unexpected, least of all now.
