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Her expression mirrors the surprise I feel. I had not intended to broach the subject this way.
"What?!"
I swallow. "You heard me. You heard me earlier today too. Marry me. We'll get you your green card. Isn't that what you need?"
"Are you insane? I'm not dating you!" she splutters.
I'd be offended if I didn't feel the same about her. "Who the fuck said anything about dating? I saidmarry." Guess this is how we were going to talk about this. "You for your green card, and me, me because apparently my lifestyle is affecting my business. It's a little too—" I clamor for the right word.
"Manwhorish?" she suggests.
She gets it. "I prefer the phrase'friendly to all.'"
Her face screws up. "Nakedto all, you mean."
I can't help but grin. "See how well we fit, Clarissa? Couldn't you do this every day for a few years?"
She makes a cross with her fingers. "Look at your face? No thanks. I'll take my chances with Patrick."
That's not funny. And I make that clear when I slam my hands down on the table, my own anger bubbling over. "The fuck you will. Come on, Clarissa, be smart about this. You know it's in your best interests. I promise I won't touch you. I promise you won't have to touch me. All I need is for you to smile adoringly at me for a few pictures, come to a few dinners with me, get some free meals out of it, and charm a shitload of people who have nothing better to do than worry about my sex life." I stand back up. "Nothing you haven't done before. Except now, you'll finally be married to a Baxter. I mean, isn't that what you always wanted?"
The air sizzles with hate.
"You are a fucking asshole." But in her eyes, the resolve is crumbling. She's going to go through with it. I know she is.
Why am I celebrating? Is this really something I want to be doing?
She knows, she can see, I need this too. And that puts us both at each other's mercy.
"But I hate you," she proclaims.
"Well, darling, that's okay. Because I fucking hate you, too."
Chapter 13
Clarissa
"Youhateme?"Idon't know why I'm asking since it's a given considering our history. But something about him actually saying it out loud...hurts.
Annoyingly, he looks amused. "That's a surprise? You know you're not innocent, right? You made Damien breakup with his girlfriend to take you back. And even though you saw how miserable he was, you still tried to make him go through with it."
"But hedidn'tgo through with it." The mention of Damien still stings. My ego, not my heart. My heart was never in play.
"No. He didn't want to marry you, Rissie. You can't blame him for wanting to be happy."
The use of my childhood nickname catches me off guard. "But nowyouwant to marry me?"
"What can I say? I'm a glutton for punishment. And I probably have more experience handling someone who hates my guts."
It takes more restraint than I have not to throw something at him. I grab the stapler off my desk and launch at his head. He just side steps it, and it clatters on the floor.
"Matthias Baxter, you're easily the biggest jerk I've ever met in my life."
"Please. Stop with the sweet talk. We're trying to have a serious conversation."
The only thing left on my desk to throw is my phone and I'm not going to wreck that just to see it hit him on the head. "Do you really think that I'm so desperate that I'm going to take you up on this? If I can't marry Patrick—"
"You can't, Clarissa," he interrupts.
