22. Shayla
22
SHAYLA
T he last thing I expected to see first thing Monday morning was Easton Walker waiting outside my office. He was fidgeting like he was nervous, his hand running through his hair before he gripped the back of his neck. At the sound of my approach, he whipped around, and his widened gaze softened as he took me in, as though he expected to see someone else. I quirked a brow, eyeing him speculatively.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, stopping outside my door.
“I, uh, wanted to check on you,” he replied, and I winced. I wasn’t proud of the little breakdown I’d had in front of him the other night. It wasn’t one of my finer moments, and I hoped we could simply forget about it and move on. But, of course, he couldn’t grant me the courtesy of pretending it hadn’t happened.
“I’m fine,” I declared, sticking my key into the lock, my tone more harsh than I’d intended. I opened the door and pushed inside my office. Not taking the hint, he followed me inside and gently shut the door behind him. I released a frustrated breath and crossed my arms. Why was he still here?
“I also wanted to run something by you,” he continued, taking a tentative step toward me. “I think I might have a solution to your…” he glanced away and cleared his throat as he shifted on his feet awkwardly, “problem.” He looked at me pointedly then, and I realized what he was referring to. I tried to hide my surprise, but my eyes widened and my face flushed with embarrassment.
“I don’t need your money, Mr. Walker,” I hissed, my spine straightening as my defenses went up.
“Please, call me Easton,” he said, his voice and eyes softening. It was startling and made my stomach do a little somersault. I steeled myself against his charms as he continued. “And that's not what I’m proposing.”
“Oh?” I asked, unable to hide my intrigue. “Then what are you proposing?” I asked. A sly grin tipped up one side of his lips, and he stepped closer. The energy in the room shifted, and a shiver ran down my spine. I was in trouble. So much trouble.
“Marry me.”
I stared up at Easton in stunned disbelief, blinking rapidly. When he said he might have a solution to my problem, this was the last thing I’d expected. He wanted to get married ? Like actually, legally married? I fell back against my desk and my ass landed on the top, my hands curling around the edge.
“Are you fucking insane?” I blurted out, and he winced. Squeezing my eyes shut, I brought one hand to the bridge of my nose and pinched. I hadn’t had enough caffeine yet for this conversation.
“Look, I know this isn’t ideal,” he began, and I bristled. Not ideal . Was he serious? “And it’s a bit unconventional, but it’s your best shot at getting the funds to help your mom.” My chin quivered, and I sniffed, trying to suppress the tears. Every time I thought about my mother and the colossal shit storm that was her current situation, I wanted to cry. She meant the world to me, and I’d do anything to help her. But what was his motivation for proposing this sham of a marriage? My gaze narrowed on him, and I pinned him with a suspicious glare.
“What’s in it for you?” He wasn’t doing this out of the kindness of his heart. He would get something out of it too. I had no doubt. He sobered, his features tightening as his lips flattened.
“As you probably already know, my reputation is,” he began, pausing to find the right words, “less than wholesome.”
That was an understatement. Before being traded to the Wraiths, he was frequently in the headlines for being a playboy. Tabloids photographed him with a different woman every time he was seen out in public. They painted him as a libertine with a penchant for beautiful women and no-strings-attached hookups.
“I’m trying to clean up my image,” he continued, glancing away as though he was actually ashamed of his past exploits, “and this is the fastest, most effective way to do that.” Why was he all of the sudden worried about his reputation? And why the big hurry? I needed to know exactly what I’d be getting myself into before I even considered what he was proposing.
Was I considering it?
Of course, it would be only on paper, not a real marriage, but still.
“This ultimately would be a mutually beneficial arrangement,” he added as though trying to sweeten the deal. That made me even more suspicious.
“If I’m going to agree to this—and I’m not saying I will—I need you to be completely honest with me.” His jaw tightened, but he nodded, so I continued. “Why now? What aren’t you telling me?”
He drew in a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks as he released it. “This is—” he started but then clamped his mouth shut as though he’d said too much. “Can I trust you not to share anything we discuss here today?” I nodded. “I’m serious, Shayla. This is a big deal. It could tank my career and—” He cut himself off, shaking his head.
His tone was equally terse and desperate. Now I was worried. What could be so bad that he was afraid to tell me? What could make him so desperate, he’d want to marry me?
“Of course,” I replied without hesitation. I would never betray one of my players’ confidence. “Anything you say in this room will stay between you and me. You have my word.”
He closed his eyes briefly as though he was gathering the strength to tell me. So many possibilities ran through my mind, but what he said next wasn’t one of them.
“I need to start from the beginning.” I leaned forward to listen closely and encourage him to continue. “I slept with my former coach’s wife.” My mouth fell open, and he winced. “I didn’t mean to.” He held his hands up defensively, and I shook away my surprise.
“So … what? You tripped and fell and landed in her vagina?”
He scowled, his mouth flattening in irritation. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Okay…”
“They were separated,” he explained, swiping a frustrated hand over his face. “I ran into her at a hotel bar. We had a few drinks, and one thing led to another. She told me the papers were signed and they were waiting on a court date. I thought it was over.” Genuine remorse filled his eyes, and I regretted my earlier snipe about falling into her vagina.
“They ended up reconciling, and she confessed to sleeping with me. He confronted me one day at practice. With his fist,” he added, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees before continuing. “After that, I got traded. Only a few people know what really happened since it occurred before practice and most of the team was still in the locker room.
“There was a lot of speculation around why I left Boston to join a new team with a losing record. The media buzz eventually faded, but with the Wraiths moving up the ranks, there’s renewed interest in my personal life. A couple reporters have reached out to Roni recently and judging by their questions, she thinks someone is talking. And if it comes to light that I slept with my coach's wife, my public image will be ruined. The fans will turn on me. It’s one thing to be a player, but being a home-wrecker is another story.”
So many questions swirled around in my head. But there was one more that was more important than the rest.
Why me?
That was all I could think as I mulled over Easton’s proposition. I wouldn’t let myself think of it as a proposal. That wasn’t what this was about. We weren’t two people hopelessly in love and planning to spend the rest of our lives together. It would simply be a transaction, a way for both of us to get what we wanted.
Still, of all the women he had to choose from—plenty of whom would be more than willing to become his fake wife—why had he chosen me? Sure, he’d said it would be mutually beneficial since getting married would unlock my inheritance, but why did he care? Did he feel bad for being an absolute pain in my ass the last few months? Had he lost someone he loved to cancer and could empathize with my situation?
Maybe I was reading too much into it. Maybe he’d chosen me simply because he knew he’d be able to walk away when it was over. Because it would eventually end. We’d stay married long enough to make it look believable then separate as soon as the media storm died down. A year or two tops. Then we could go our separate ways. He would move on and forget about me, and I’d be able to sleep easy knowing we weren't a hundred grand in debt from medical bills and a second mortgage. I just hoped my mom was still around once the dust settled.
That thought gave me pause. Could being married to Easton benefit my mom? Would it open the doors to better cancer care and opportunities for treatment? I hated to think that way, but people with millions in their bank account had more options than those of us barely making ends meet. Her medical team was great, but could Easton’s clout get us the best ?
It made me feel cheap and dirty to think of using him that way, but if it meant keeping my mom alive, I was willing to do just about anything.
I’d asked Easton for twenty-four hours to think over his offer. That time was almost up, and I finally had my answer.
“I have some … conditions,” I said, steepling my fingers as I gazed at Easton across my desk. We were back in my office again just like we had been the day before. He sat in the chair, his posture relaxed, a stark contrast to my rigid spine.
“Okay,” he replied, unfazed.
“No sex,” I blurted out, wanting to get that out of the way. It didn’t matter that we would be married; I was fully aware that he wasn’t attracted to me, but I also wasn’t going to be a convenient lay when he was horny and desperate. Which led into my next condition. But before I could open my mouth to speak, Easton cut in.
“None? Like at all?”
“None,” I reiterated.
“Isn’t that one of the perks of being married?” he asked with a sly grin.
“It’s not a real marriage,” I replied flatly.
His face fell, and he glanced away. He cleared his throat and nervously ran his hands over the arm of his chair. He seemed almost … disappointed, and that reaction confused me.
“Right,” he said, picking at the cracked vinyl. “What else?”
“This can’t interfere with my work. I won’t risk losing this jo?—”
“You won’t,” he interjected. “I’ve already spoken with my lawyers and someone in HR.” My brows shot to my hairline, and I stammered my surprise. “They’ve assured me there are no rules preventing us from seeing each other as long as neither of us reports to the other.”
“O-okay.”
“Anything else?” he asked, and I took a second to gather my wits.
I blew out a tense breath and straightened my shoulders, preparing myself for what I needed to say next. This part wouldn’t be easy because thinking about Easton with another woman made my stomach twist into knots I couldn’t explain.
“I don’t expect you to go without…” I began, dropping my hands to the desk and folding them together to keep from wringing them, “having your needs met. All I ask is that you are discreet when doing so. I would like to be able to hold onto at least some of my dignity. And having you running around on me, despite the nature of our arrangement, would look bad. I won’t tolerate that kind of disrespect.”
I chanced a glance at him, and what I saw stunned me. His jaw was set in a hard line, and the gold rimming his hazel eyes practically glowed. I’d never seen him look so furious. Was he seriously mad that I’d asked him not to flaunt his indiscretions while we were married?
“I want to make one thing clear,” he began, his eyes blazing as they burned into me. I held his stare, refusing to back down. This was non-negotiable, and I was prepared to fight for it. “I will not be sleeping with anyone else while I’m married to you.”
How dare h?—
Wait. What?
Had I misheard him?
“I-I don’t understand.”
“As long as we are married, I will not touch another woman. You have my word.”
“But why? I told you we won’t be having sex. Won’t that be…” I trailed off, trying to think of another word besides hard. “Difficult for you,” I finished, unintentionally glancing at his groin. Shit. He smirked, catching me looking at his crotch.
“It will. But like you said, I won’t disrespect you. As long as we’re married, I will honor my vows.”
Stunned silence settled between us. I was at a loss for words. I hadn’t expected him to take our potential fake marriage so seriously. It would be all for show, wouldn’t it? But he acted like some parts of it would be real, and I had no idea how to feel about that.
“O-okay,” I stammered. “I also will not sleep with anyone else,” I promised, unsure what else to say.
“Good.” His head bobbed in a nod. “Is that all?”
I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, contemplating how I should broach the subject I wanted to bring up next. Easton’s eyes dropped to my mouth and darkened ever so slightly.
“Just one more thing,” I replied, and he returned his gaze to my eyes. “It’s more of a request than anything.” I swallowed thickly then took a deep breath. “I’m hoping to … utilize your connections to find my mom the best care available,” I said, trying to hide my grimace. It felt tacky asking this of him before we even walked down the aisle, but I wanted to make sure I’d have the power of his name behind me once we were husband and wife.
His gaze softened, and he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Of course. Anything you need,” he said without an ounce of hesitation. And just like that, he stole a tiny piece of my heart.