Chapter 7 Zofia #2
I winced. “Maybe not that kind of problem, Nic.” Unfortunately, this had nothing to do with work.
“Oh. Okay.” Nicolas leaned against his desk, casually crossing his arms. “What is it? I’ve got your back.”
I looked down at the skirt, picking a loose thread instead of keeping my eyes locked on his ocean-blue eyes. They were the perfect shade of turquoise that I wanted to drown in. “I might have… accidentally… sort of told my mom I was seeing someone.”
“You what?” he raised an eyebrow. “Who?”
“You.” I made a face. “I told her I was seeing you.”
His face morphed into one of surprise. And then amusement. And then—confusion. “But we’re not? The whole marriage thing, I—you said it was a terrible idea, us together.”
“Yeah, I know.” I wanted to bury my face in my hands. “I’m sorry. She was just trying to set me up with this lawyer, and I’m sure he’s a perfectly nice man, but after everything, I just—”
I couldn’t stop thinking about it, clearly.
Maybe that was why I’d told my mom what I did.
Now it was his turn to wince. “I thought we agreed it was a stupid idea, and that we’d forget about it.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I glared at him.
“I don’t know how you think I could forget you suggesting we get married, Nicolas.
” Seriously, the suggestion was practically ingrained in my brain.
I was going to be knee-deep in boxes if I kept using retail therapy to deal with it.
And potentially credit card debt, because I didn’t have a billionaire giving me unfettered access to their card.
“So, I panicked a little. It’s fine. I’ll figure it out.
Really. I thought maybe if I told her I was seeing someone, she’d get off my back for a bit.
Just like you said.” I knew I was rambling, but I couldn’t seem to stop.
“And it worked?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Sort of. I mean, now she wants to meet you. Asked when you’d be coming to dinner.”
I was surprised how quickly he responded, “Okay.”
“Really? Because I can put her off, tell her no, and then say we broke up.” It would be mortifying, but worse would be if I told her I had lied from the beginning. After my ex, she might literally disown me. But she’d get over it, right? At least I had brothers to give her grandkids.
Somehow, that didn’t stop her from harping on me about them.
He shrugged. “Sure, why not? Your family seems great. You’re all close. And this would be great for both of us. The board needs to see me in a serious relationship. We can use this to our advantage.”
I frowned. “But we’re not… actually seeing each other.”
“They don’t have to know that.”
“So we’re actually going to lie to everyone?” I squinted my eyes. “Even our friends?”
“It doesn’t have to all be a lie. We could…” Nicolas drummed his fingers against his desk. “We could actually get married. That part wouldn’t be fake.”
“So now we’ve gone from fake dating to seriously getting married?”
Nicolas nodded. “I know. I know it sounds crazy, but hear me out. We can actually make a contract. One with favorable terms for both of us. And when we’ve both gotten what we need out of the relationship.
..” He grimaced, as if realizing how it sounded.
“If either of us decides we want out, or we meet someone else, we can get a divorce. No questions asked.”
“You really want to be fake married to me? Your assistant?” Maybe I’d hit my head this morning, and it was all just a dream. That would feel more realistic than our current conversation.
“Make no mistake, Zofia. The relationship might be fake, but the marriage will be real. Legally, you’ll be my wife.”
A little shudder ran down my spine. Why did I like the sound of that? “And if I say yes?”
“Then, when I come to meet your parents… we’ll tell them the good news. That we’re engaged.”
“This is all moving so fast.” My head hurt.
I needed a drink. Or maybe more caffeine, after I’d spilled the first one.
Something to figure out why I was actually considering saying yes to this fake engagement, this fake marriage, with the man who signed my paychecks.
The man I brought coffee to every morning, not because I had to or because he’d ever asked me to do it, but because I liked to.
He stood up, coming to kneel in front of my chair, taking my hand in his. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. If you’re not comfortable…” Nicolas trailed off.
I stared into his eyes—the deep turquoise-blue ones that had held me captive in Napa. The night I couldn’t get out of my mind.
If I said yes to this crazy scheme, to marrying him, it felt inevitable that we would end up in bed together again. I knew it was a line we shouldn’t cross. This was only going to be fake, and like it or not, one of us was going to get attached if we had more nights like those.
“No, I…” I massaged my forehead. It was a good idea, all things considered. My parents would be happy because I’d be married, and well, the rest of it was stuff we could figure out later. “I’ll do it,” I told him. “I’ll marry you.”
Humming, he pulled out a piece of paper. “We can write it all out.” Nicolas reached for a pen. “Let’s outline our contract, wife.”
And if the tingle in my stomach from that one word held any indication of my future with this man, I was already in trouble.