“Yeah, and she can’t date anyone else for fivefuckingyears! Did you consider that?” Issac snaps, raking a hand through his hair. “Shit, Blake!”
I want to correct him and tell him shecanstill see him if they keep it on the down low, but she hasn’t even said yes yet.
For all I know, she might refuse.
“Hey, you’re the one that said to see it as a business arrangement.”
“She’s your ex.”
I don’t know where he’s going with this, so I let him carry on whining.
“She’ll never do it.” Issac sounds triumphant, and it pisses me off. “That explains why she was off today at lunch.”
The thought of Issac and Danielle having lunch pisses me off further, but what the fuck can I say?
Please don’t date my ex as she might be my fake wife soon?
“This isn’t my choice, Issac. I have to marrysomeone.”
“Yeah, but does it have to beher?” Issac jumps to his feet, pacing the floor. “She’samazing, Blake. She’s not let a thing slide in your absence, and she deserves more than this.”
I say at first nothing as he praises my ex. Then I respond, “Hmm, more than half the business and whatever she wants in the world? You got a better offer for her, Issac?”
“Yeah.Realfeelings.”
“Listen to me. This isn’t personal at all. I’m not interested in Danielle like that.”
“Bullshit.”
“Look, if she wants to date you, let her crack on. This is a business arrangement. So calm the fuck down.”
If Danielle likes Issac so much, I’m sure she’ll decline.
She isn’t the sort of woman to go half-assed into anything.
If they like each other, who am I to stand in their way?
I’m just her potential business husband.
CHAPTER 10
DANIELLE
This contract is making my eyes ache.
It’s two a.m., and I need to stretch my stiff muscles.
So far, I can't see anything that means I come out badly in any of this, but it's just whether I can marry Blake James for money.
I would have married him once for nothing but love, so why is this so difficult?
I reach for the ceiling, throwing down my highlighter. The last few pages are dense—full of sub-clauses I can barely read through the exhaustion—and I skim them faster than I should.
In four hours, I’ve got to be up for work, and I haven’t got a thing to wear that's clean.
If you lived with Blake, you’d have a walk-in closet and a swimming pool, my inner voice tells me.
“I’d probably also murder him,” I mutter, climbing into bed.
