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“Maybe you’re right.” I stand with a smile and a new outlook. “I need to finish that order.”
The rest of the day, I imagine every cake I design is my own—without the happily ever attached to it. And definitely no sex. A man who looks like him has plenty of options besides his wife, anyway.
As I drive home later in the evening, I decide the reward is greater than the risk. That night, I write out my own contract, with my own stipulations.
The next morning, after I drop Tennyson off at preschool, I drive to the formidable estate and request to see Gabriel.
My belly is a seesaw as I’m led down a marble floored hallway that seems to go on for a mile, and through a seating area to french doors.
“Mr. Prince is out back,” I’m told by the gray-haired butler.
“Thank you,” I tell him as he opens the door for me.
I step out onto an expansive concrete patio filled with more furniture than my house. Gabriel, looking very human in dark jeans and a black T-shirt, stands in the center of the lawn looking up at the clear blue sky.
I place the manila folder containing both contracts on a table. “Hello,” I call out, gathering my nerve to cross the patio to stand at the edge.
He glances over his shoulder. “Watch out,” he warns, just as something loud and metal whizzes within inches of my face.
“What the...” I exclaim, ducking and throwing my arms to protect my head.
He grins as the object crashes next to his leather clad feet. “Sorry,” he says with too much amusement to really be sorry. “A new toy. It’s a Fold Dragon Drone, top of the line.”
I lower my arms, knowing he’s trying to impress me with his expensive toys. All I can think is how Tennyson would have that contraption broken within minutes. “Ah.”
“It has twelve propellers.”
I nod. “Still haven’t learned to fly one, I see.”
His white teeth flash against the dark stubble on his jaw. “I think it’s just you.”
To my dismay, I want to smile back at his playful remark. Instead, I erect the shield that’s going to protect me through this arrangement. “I have a contract for you to sign as well.”
He stalks closer to me, unphased by my words, and the breeze rumples his hair, completing his casual look. “Ah, and what exactly is in this contract?”
His eyes sweep down my pink tank and jean shorts to my sandaled feet and back up again. Needing distance, I turn away from the force of him and cross to the table where my demands lie. Once I have them in my hand, I dig in my purse and pull out the only pen I have—a Pusheen the cat pen that Tennyson loves.
I hold it out, along with the papers. “Just sign and date it.”
“I’d like to read over it.” He leans down to whisper in my ear as he takes them from me, “I’d be a fool not to.”
A shiver starts at my toes and rockets up my body, nearly curling my spine. My eyes meet his, and I can’t help but think, the only fool here is me for agreeing to this.
Chapter 6
Gabriel
A contract? I almost want to laugh at her, but instead, I take a seat at the wrought-iron table. Normally, when handed a contract, I call Patrick, my attorney, and let him read through it before I even lay eyes on it. Patrick is smart. Patrick is wise. And he never lets me sign anything until he and his firm give it their utmost attention.
But, Clementine has piqued my interest. And no one ever piques my interests when it comes to contracts. I smile at her handwritten contract as she takes a seat next to me.
My eyes zero in on the words written there:
There will be no sex.
I read the vague line over and over. “Ever?” I ask her.
She straightens her posture. “No, never.”
