The Backpack Bride (Give a Bookish Girl a Biker #1)

Chapter Six

Christian

R oxy stares at me like I just spouted off a physics equation and expect her to solve it. Guess I should’ve eased her into that little admission. But when she mentioned pulling a husband out of thin air, it felt too serendipitous a moment to pass up. I literally need to wife someone up if I’m going to claim my inheritance and keep Grandfather’s business in the family like he would’ve wanted. And it should be someone, as Chantelle noted, who needs me in the same way.

Someone like Roxy.

I tried to forget about Chantelle’s hairbrained idea, but it won’t leave me. It’s somehow burrowed deeper into my brain and morphed into something that doesn’t sound crazy at all. In fact, it almost seems...logical. Maybe look at this like a business transaction instead of a marriage. She’d be helping you, you’d be helping her…

“You...what?” Both of Roxy’s dark eyebrows lift slightly.

“I said I need a wife,” I reiterate slowly. “It’s...well, it’s kind of a long, messy story.”

Breaking out of her stupor, she mimics the same pose I made earlier when I leaned against the shelves, ready to listen to whatever she told me. “I like long, messy stories. Have a whole bookshelf full of them in my apartment.” Crossing her arms, she lifts one dark eyebrow and waits.

“Well,” I say with a laugh, “this one’s actually a secret.”

She nods as if to say go on , but still, I waver. I don’t know anything about this woman other than what she just shared with me. There’s only so much a guy can tell from someone’s looks and employee profile. After her run-in with Shane, all I was able to gather was that she’s an understated kind of beautiful, she was a temp before I promoted her, and she’s only been at the company for about a month. None of those things tell me if she’s trustworthy or not.

But there’s just something about her…the way her dark green irises flicker under these dim lights, the little laugh lines that crease the sides of her mouth, her somber, thoughtful gaze...It all speaks to the kind of person she is inside. Honest. Hardworking. Loyal. Then there’s the fact that she shared something deeply personal with me. She didn’t have to; didn’t really want to by the look on her face when she tried to run from the storage room. But she did, and it only seems right that I return the gesture. So I take a deep breath and pray I’m not wrong about her.

“Well, I’m not sure if you remember me saying it yesterday, but I’m supposed to be taking my father’s position as CEO.”

“I do.” She winces. “I may have also heard it through the office grapevine.”

“News travels fast, I suppose.” With a sigh, I continue. “Well, Daddy Dearest handed me an inheritance contract yesterday. And there’s a lovely little clause that says in order for me to accept the position as CEO, and inherit the company, I need to take a wife.” I leave out the part about the procreating, because...well, just because.

“Wow,” she breathes, amusement lilting the curve of her lips. “You’re not kidding?”

“Not kidding.” I raise my hands in defeat. “Wish I was.”

“I guess it’s true that everybody’s got problems,” she mutters, looking toward the floor.

“Yes, they do. But maybe...” I push away from the shelves behind me. “Maybe we could be each other’s solution .”

Her eyes snap to mine. “What? How...” All at once, the truth dawns. I can see it in the way her mouth pops open and her brows lower. “You’re not serious.”

“Just hear me out.” I hold up one hand while I pocket the other, schooling my features to appear calm and relaxed. It’s a boardroom tactic I learned in some business course I took in college. Who even knows which one. Bottom line, you won’t convince anyone to strike a deal if you look desperate. They need to believe that it’s in their best interest to work with you...not the other way around. And in Roxy’s case, I do think this arrangement will benefit her. Especially with what her lawyer implied with the secret husband joke.

“I know we barely know each other,” I say in an even tone. “And I am fully aware that what I’m about to suggest sounds like the plot of some bad movie, but this wasn't entirely my own idea...a friend suggested I find someone to marry after I told her about the unreasonable conditions outlined in the contract.”

Roxy gives me a slow nod. “Thus the reason you laughed.”

“Thus the reason I laughed.” A smile tugs at my lips. Her sense of humor gives me hope that even if she thinks I’m a deranged psychopath after this conversation, we’ll at least be able to laugh it off like it was a joke later.

“You have to admit that it feels a little serendipitous.” I plant a hand on my chest. “I find out I need a wife to take over the company I’ve worked my whole life for.” Then I motion to her. “You think being married will help prove that you’re a suitable guardian for your nephew...”

“Okay, wait. Hold on.” She presses a hand to her forehead and rubs back and forth. “You’re saying that you think we—as in you and me—should pretend to get married so we can fool your dad into giving you the company and convince the courts that I’m the best person to adopt my nephew?”

“No,” I say immediately. “I’m not suggesting that we pretend to do anything.”

Her big greenish-brown eyes blink a few times. “You’re proposing that we actually get married?”

I smirk. “Was that pun intended?”

A slightly derisive laugh leaves her in a huff. “No. We’re going to forget that pun ever existed.”

Instead of pleading with her like every cell in my body demands, I offer her a lazy smile. “Fine. Yes, I am suggesting we do that. But it wouldn’t be what you’re thinking. It would be more like…a business transaction. We can even write up a contract for only you and me to see, if that makes you feel better.” My stomach sours at how easily I’ve managed to condense the joining of two lives into a meaningless transaction . But I’m desperate. And way in over my head and—

“A contract?”

“Just a bit of insurance for us both,” I clarify. “It would state your terms, as well as mine, and give us both an out should something go horribly wrong with our plan.”

“Like a fail-safe?”

“Exactly.”

Her focus drifts to the shelves beside us and her eyes dart back and forth. “A contract is one thing, but what about convincing people? I just started working here a few weeks ago. No one will believe that you and I fell in love that quickly.”

“Why not?” I counter. “Haven’t you ever heard of love at first sight?”

She laughs. “Of course, but I’ve never seen it work out for anyone.” Her throat muscles constrict on a swallow. “Well, no one in real life, anyway.”

I instantly want to ask what she means about real life but stop myself. “It’s a good thing we’re not in love then,” I say with a smirk, hoping to appeal to her more practical side. I know she’s an intelligent, pragmatic woman. It’s evident in the way she carries herself, the way she dresses. Her shoes aren’t the cutesy kind a lot of women wear in the office. They’re utilitarian, made strictly for comfort. The rest of her clothes are the same. Fitted and professional but not flashy.

“All we need to do is convince people that we’re in love,” I say. “That we had a whirlwind romance and decided to get married. My income will more than make up for what yours lacks in the eyes of this judge, and you’ll have the male role model he thinks Axel needs.” It hits me then that it’s not just the two of us we need to consider in this deal. It’s her nephew, too.

“How do I know that you're role model material?” she asks. “You could be a closet creep for all I know, scamming women like this once a week.”

A burst of laughter leaves me. “That’s true, I guess. But I have plenty of friends and acquaintances you could talk to for intel. I’m a private person, but let’s be real. There’s only so much privacy the son of a multibillionaire can have.”

“Unless you’re paying people off to keep your secrets.”

My brows knit as I fight back another laugh. “You weren’t lying about all those long, messy stories on your bookshelf, were you? You’ve got quite the imagination.”

She fires back with, “Maybe I’m just skeptical. This all feels a little too good to be true. Too convenient.”

I stick both hands in my pockets, infusing as much warmth into my voice as I can. “Look, I’m not saying that I’d be a perfect role model for your nephew. I’m not some sinless saint or savior. But to everyone who would matter, I could be your ticket to a stable homelife. And to Axel...” I pause, giving myself permission to mean what I’m about to say. “I could hopefully be a helpful friend.” An idea comes to mind, and I run with it. “Maybe even fund his college tuition when the time comes.”

She gasps. “You’d do that?”

I nod solemnly. She must know by now that I’m just desperate enough to give her anything she could ever want. Axel included.

She bites her lip, clearly giving the idea some thought. “I can’t ask you to pretend with Axel.”

I meet her gaze, dead on. “Who says I'd be pretending? I want to help you, Roxy. Both of you. Or I wouldn’t be offering myself up.”

“But you need my help in return.”

“I do,” I admit. “I need you to play the part of my wife. Just for a while, at least. And during that time, you and Axel would have access to everything of mine. My home, my finances, whatever you guys need. I want this exchange to be fair for us both.”

She runs a finger along her lips like she’s considering my offer. “How long?” she asks. “For how long would we need to stay married?”

This is the part I’ve been dreading because there’s no clear-cut answer. “Long enough for you to adopt and for me to sign my dad’s contract.”

“What if it takes months?”

I shrug. “Then it’ll take months.”

“And you’d be okay with that? Having a strange woman and teenager living with you for that long?” The look she gives me says she’s not convinced I would be. “What if it takes a year ?”

“It won’t take that long to convince my dad,” I say, confident in my answer. “He wants me to sign the contract within the month. I can’t say the same for your custody situation. However, if things still look bleak even after we tie the knot, you're free to back out at any time.”

“Right.” She bites her lower lip again. “The fail-safe.”

I nod, seeing it all come together in my mind. She’s softening toward the idea, toward me. If I can get her to believe that this will work, she might just say yes. “Why don’t you take a few days to think about it?” I suggest. “I’ll give you whatever info on me you need. Even a full background check if that’s what you want. Or I’ll give you the money to perform an independent one, whatever. I’ll give you my address, references...”

I stop myself. I’m coming on too strong too fast. If Roxy minds, though, she doesn’t say so. She just stares at me, almost like she’s seeing through me.

“What will I tell Axel? He knows I haven’t dated anyone in...” She huffs a little laugh. “Well, a stupid long time.”

It shouldn’t make me happy that Roxy’s completely unattached to another guy, but it does. “That’s actually a good thing. It’ll make our love story more believable. Neither of us will look like a rebound.”

She raises both eyebrows. “I take it you haven’t had a serious relationship in a while then, either?”

“Not for a while, no.” I don’t bother mentioning Stefany. It’s been months. Besides, Roxy’s a better choice for a temporary wife. Again, my heart tugs like it’s begging me to reconsider, begging me to stop from entering into what should be a lifelong commitment with a stranger. I shove the conflicted feeling aside, knowing I don’t have a better option right now.

“What if we can’t come to an agreement?” Roxy asks. "What if my terms are...too much?”

Something about the way her lashes flutter as she says it tells me she’s been told that before. That she’s too much. But I already know there’s nothing she could demand that I wouldn’t agree to. “They won’t be, I assure you. And if they are...” I try for a charming smile. “I’m an excellent negotiator.”

She smiles too, and it eases some of the tightness in my chest. “All right, Mr. Price. I’ll think about it.”

“Please, call me Christian.” I hold out my hand and am pleased when she takes it. Her touch brings a distinct kind of warmth with it, the kind I’ll have to walk off after this interaction. But I slip behind my professional facade and give her hand a shake. “I look forward to hearing from you, Roxy. You know where to find me.”

With that, I leave the supply room. It isn’t until I’m back at my desk that I realize I forgot all about the stack of sticky notes I went there to grab in the first place.