Chapter 8 Nicolas
nicolas
On the outside, I was the perfect picture of calm and collected. The suave executive who had worked on a multitude of mergers and acquisitions.
On the inside? I was ecstatic. Turns out I liked the idea of calling her my wife far more than I thought I would. Was this inevitable from the first moment she’d joked about it?
I held out the pen to her, and she just stared at it. “What?”
“I figured you’d want to write it down.”
“Because I’m your assistant?” Her eyebrows practically rose to her forehead, her arms still crossed over her chest.
Her blouse covered her cleavage, but the motion still pushed them out, giving me flashbacks to when I’d had my mouth all over them, running my tongue all over her perfect tits.
Fuck. Thankfully, I was behind my desk, so I could rearrange myself in my pants without her knowing I was getting hard just from the thought of her nipples.
“No.” I shook my head, letting out a small laugh. “Because my handwriting is shit, and you know that.”
That got me a small smile. “Okay, fine. Hand it over.” Zo took the pen, and I slid the piece of paper over to her.
She started writing out in script across the top: Nicolas I was pretty sure he’d be trying to love on Zo’s cat the first day they moved in. He’d always loved other animals.
“Fine. I’ll move in once we’re married. But I’m not sleeping in your bed.”
I bit my tongue, knowing that if I pushed too far, she’d pull back entirely. “I’ve got plenty of guest rooms.”
“We can’t have sex again,” Zofia said, shocking me. “I’m already your assistant, and if I’m going to be your fake wife, too, that’ll get too complicated. We can’t complicate this with sex.”
I didn’t know why I hated that so much. Especially when that was exactly what we were proposing—a contract marriage. No complications, no feelings. Definitely no love. Maybe I just felt possessive of her because the chemistry between us was insane.
I had to remind myself that we weren’t doing this because of what had conspired between us in the bedroom.
“Fine,” I barked out, knowing I’d come to regret my next words. “No sex. But while we’re married, I expect you won’t be sleeping with anyone else, either. If word got out that either of us were cheating on the other…”
Her face seemed to turn gray, like she’d lost color. “Of course not, Nic. I know it’s not real, but I could never betray you like that.” There was hurt in her eyes, and I wondered who had put it there.
5. Zofia agrees to move into Nicolas’s apartment after the two are legally married. She will sleep in her own room.
6. Sexual relations will not be a part of the relationship, nor will they be expected by either party.
“How long?” Zofia asked, looking down at the paper.
I knew what she was asking without her having to elaborate.
“For people to take the marriage seriously, I think two years would be sufficient.”
“And then what?”
I thought about what I’d told her before.
When we’ve both gotten what we need out of the relationship...
If either of us decides we want out, or we meet someone else, we can get a divorce. No questions asked.
“And then… we can amicably divorce.” The words tasted like ash on my tongue. As much as I wanted to give her an out—a way to maintain her autonomy and freedom—I also wanted her tied to me.
My ring on her finger.
My last name as hers.
Now that I’d gotten those ideas into my head, there would be no getting them out.
Zofia winced, though she didn’t put her pen back down to add another clause. “I don’t want to lose my job after this ends. I know we’d be divorced, but…” She toyed with the small gold hoop in her ear.
“Hey.” I placed my hand over hers. “You know I’ll take care of you, right? I’d never let that happen.”
She let out a breath. “Right.” Her eyes met mine. “We’re really doing this, then.”
“Guess we are.”
7. The Marriage will last for two years unless either party wishes to terminate the contract sooner, no questions asked, or both parties agree to extend the length of the contract.
She signed her name at the bottom and then slid the paper over to me. “Time to sign on the dotted line, fiancé.”
I grinned. Damn, I liked the sound of that.
“Can I help you?” The man standing in front of the glass counter looked in my direction, and I tried not to get distracted by all the sparkly items surrounding me.
I shoved my hands into my pockets. “Yes. I’m looking for an engagement ring.” Swallowing roughly, I stepped up to the counter.
I was really doing this. Buying Zofia an engagement ring.
A real ring for a fake relationship, for this crazy scheme that somehow didn’t feel so crazy at all.
If it was going to be anyone, it was going to be Zo.
She could keep it after we ended things and sell it or whatever. I didn’t really want to think about that, even if we’d put it in the contract.
Maybe the contract had been a stupid idea. After I’d signed it, Zo had slipped out of my office, and I’d locked it in my personal safe for safekeeping. I didn’t need anyone getting their grubby paws on it to make a mockery of the woman who would be my wife.
“What’s your budget?”
“No budget,” I responded, thinking about the enormous sum in my bank account. “Just want to get the perfect ring.”
Most guys I knew with that kind of money would blow it on things like sports cars, but I’d hardly spent any of it. Maybe because I didn’t feel like I deserved it. I was lucky enough to come from money, and even though I’d made my own, I could never bring myself to spend it.
Until now.
The guy’s eyes lit up with delight. “Alright. Are you looking for something custom?”
Custom meant it could be one of a kind. Just like Zofia was. “What’s the timeline on something like that?” I tapped my fingers against the glass display case.
“Normally four to six weeks at baseline, but for more complex designs with intricate details or if we need to source a specific gemstone, it could be more.”
I frowned. “That might be a little tight.” Especially with the timeline we were working with.
“We have a selection that you could choose from in house.”
“Oh, that would be great.”
He nodded, turning to a display and unlocking it with his key. “Do you know if she prefers gold or silver?”
“Definitely gold.” Zo was always wearing gold jewelry, from tiny hoops to bangles and different gold rings on her fingers.
“Perfect.” He slid a tray of rings with gold bands onto the counter in front of me. “Take a look at these and tell me if there’s anything you like, and we can go from there.”
I took my time picking out the right ring, wanting something perfect for Zofia.
My assistant, and soon to be… my wife.