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He bursts out laughing as he grabs my hand again and guides me to the nearest bar. My lungs burn as I inhale, then exhale.
Is this the same man that told me he doesn’t do relationships? That he was only committed to his business? My parents don’t believe in divorce, they view that as worse than me not marrying Link.
We take seats on the barstools, Jasper resting his hand on my thigh, squeezing gently.
“Why are you asking me to marry you?”
He doesn’t take his eyes off me. His deep brown pupils flash with lust and desire, sending moisture to my core. I don’t need to think about the way he fucked me five nights ago.
“I need to be married in order to inherit my uncle’s business.” He sighs. “He passed away the day I met you in the bar.”
I stroke my fingers along his big hand soothingly. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
The pain is etched in his face, and he removes his hand. I didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable.
I want to help him, but I can’t commit to marriage.
And just like that, my hope deflates. But all is not lost—I can find someone else. I have six months of membership here.
“It wouldn’t work,” I say, smoothing out my dress.
Disappointment flashes across his face. “Why not?”
This sucks so bad.
My shoulders sag and I slouch on the barstool. “My family doesn’t believe in divorce. If we get married, then you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life. I don’t want to be your ball and chain.” Frustration rises in my chest like a balloon. I get up from the stool and sling my clutch across my body. “You said it yourself, you don’t desire a relationship, and I don’t either. So let’s cut our l—”
“Poppy, sit back down, I’m not finished explain—”
“There isn’t anything to explain.”
What’s the point of talking this through? We have different goals. Every chance I get, I hit a brick wall and I have to start over at ground zero.
He frowns as he rests his hand on my shoulder. “Poppy, sit back down,” he repeats. “Don’t walk out on me.”
I slither my way back onto the stool. “Another glass of that expensive wine. I’m going to need it,” I tell the bartender.
What he’s asking for is absurd. The thought of being married to anyone scares the crap out of me, which is one of the reasons why I backed out of my marriage with Link. I don’t know how Jasper is when it comes to living with him. He could be a complete weirdo. He could turn out to be crazy like Link. He may not look the type, but Link was good at hiding it at the beginning of our relationship. When he proposed to me, that’s when he became my worst nightmare.
Moments later, the bartender sets my glass of wine in front of me. I chug it down as if I’m dying of thirst.
“We can be married for the rest of our lives, but I can’t promise you happily ever after. I can’t promise you hearts and flowers. I can’t promise you any real love, Poppy.”
“Trust me, after what I’ve been through with my ex, love isn’t on the table for me either.” I sip my wine before I add, “Why will you make that sacrifice for me? Clearly you can have any woman you want.”
He strokes his beard as he flashes me his pearly whites. “If I’m married to someone, I want to at least have intelligent conversations with them.” He downs his glass of amber liquor.
I might not have a choice, and this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I refuse to go back to my ex, and I might not find anyone at this point to agree with my terms. So yeah, I’ll take him up on his offer. Plus, Jasper checks everything on my list—and more. My mother would love him. He’s one of the biggest names in the country, his connections can take my stepfather’s winery further, and he’s abillionaire. My mother will be delighted. Yes, it’s a lifelong commitment, but I’ll be taken care of and I can leave my shitty job and find somewhere else to work. Not to mention my living conditions will be a lot better than they are now. We can even live our lives separately.
“Fine. I’ll be your wife.”
He grins ear to ear at my answer. “We need to go over some ground rules.” He sweeps a lock of my hair behind my ear and lifts my chin so I have no choice but to look into his eyes. A deep blush creeps up my neck to my cheeks. This eye contact is too intimate for my liking, so I lean back, putting some distance between us.
“Go on,” I say.
“In public we act like the loving couple. We hold hands, kiss—you know, to keep my image. If my father gets the slightest hint of this marriage being fake, he’s going to take me to court for my uncle’s business.”
I nod in agreement.
