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“It’s ridiculous," he says. "But as it so happens, I've decided to do it."
"To get married, sir? To whom?”
“I’m glad you asked, Miss Myers," he says. There’s a hint of humor in the ice blue of his eyes. "To you."
2
Cecilia
“You want me to marry you?”
Victor meets my gaze. I've never looked at him for this long before. It's terrifying. "You want a new job.”
"Not as your wife."
“Marrying me would get you out of this office."
"Yes, but not away from you."
St. Clair blinks once and then his usual scowl breaks, lips curving. Something glitters in his eyes and damned if it doesn't make me more afraid. "I always knew you wouldn't last a year.”
My hands curl into fists, nails digging into the meat of my palm. “Six days from now,” I say, "I will have worked for you for an entire year."
“Well, then you have nothing to lose."
The man is serious. There are a billion reasons why this is a bad idea, but as I grope for them, I say the first one I can think of. "But you're not the marrying type."
The same half curl to his lips. "This would be a marriage in name only, Miss Myers. We would not actually be in a relationship."
“No. Right. I would never... of course not."
"You'd be compensated handsomely for your time,” he says. "You're in quite the bargaining position here, Miss Myers. How much do you want for agreeing?"
“I’m not going to marry you for money.”
"You worked for me for money," he says, voice dropping. "You already trade your time for money. I'm asking for very little of your time for this contract. Only your name, signature, and one year of not being able to marry anyone else. It's a far better bargain than the job you're currently at."
Victor St. Clair is infamous for driving a hard bargain, and he doesn’t relent until the other party accepts. I know. I’ve listened in on more than one of his negotiations, when he pesters and coaxes and intimidates until the person across from him folds. And then he walks away, victory glittering in his eyes, having doubled his fortune.
I just never expected to be the one on the other side.
“But… it’s marriage,” I say, in a brilliant stroke of verbal genius. “It’s not the same as a job.”
“We can decide it is. Come on, Miss Myers. What do you want?” He leans back in his chair, eyes narrowing as he studies me. “An entirely new wardrobe? A year of traveling around the globe? There must be something you want, more than simply out of your current job.”
“You’re really doing this. You’re buying a wife.”
He snorts. “If I was trying to buy a wife, I’d go online. Plenty of people in the market for a green card. No, I want a contract. I want someone I know, someone I can trust to follow orders, who is organized and reliable. Someone who understands exactly what this is.”
“So you thought of me.”
“Well, you submitted your resume.”
“Not intentionally.”
“Does it matter?” he says. “You said you wanted away from me. Well, you won’t have to work for me anymore.”
I stare at him. “But I’d bemarriedto you.”
