Chapter 2 #2
She doesn't flinch. "Yes. But also, because I believe in this town, and I believe your hotel can be more than just another luxury property that locals can't afford to visit."
I find myself studying her more carefully. The determined set of her jaw. The intelligence in her eyes. The way the morning light catches the golden highlights in her chestnut hair.
"It would be a real marriage," I state, watching for her reaction. "Legally binding."
"With an annulment clause," she adds quickly. "Eight weeks. We do the publicity, drive the bookings through the holiday season, and in January, we quietly go our separate ways. Unless..." She trails off.
"Unless what?"
A faint blush colors her cheeks. "Unless we decide otherwise, which seems unlikely. But the contract would leave that option open."
I take a slow sip of my coffee, buying time to think. The idea is outrageous. Risky. Potentially damaging to my reputation if it goes wrong.
It's also the most innovative marketing approach I've ever encountered.
"How would we explain our sudden relationship?" I ask, surprising myself by engaging with the concept. "We've only just met."
Charlie smiles, sensing my interest. "The beauty of holiday romances is that they move quickly. We met, there was an instant connection, and we both knew it was right. People eat that stuff up at this time of year."
"And what about your agency? Your boss? How do you explain suddenly marrying a client?"
"I've thought about that." Of course she has. "I'll take a leave of absence. Personal reasons. The agency keeps the account, but I step away from day-to-day management during our... arrangement."
I tap my fingers against the portfolio, my mind racing. "This would require absolute commitment to the act. Public appearances. Shared accommodations. We'd need to convince everyone this is real."
"I'm aware." Her voice is steady, but I notice her fingers tighten slightly around her mug.
"And what do you get out of this, besides saving your job?"
Charlie leans forward. "A bonus. Ten percent of whatever revenue increase we see above the current projections. Paid after the annulment."
"Ambitious," I comment, not entirely displeased by her boldness.
"I believe in betting on myself," she replies. "And on good ideas."
I close the portfolio, my decision crystallizing. "I need to discuss this with my lawyer. Draw up proper terms."
Hope flashes in her eyes. "So, you're considering it?"
"I'm more than considering it, Charlie." I stand, gathering my coat. "I want terms drafted by the end of the day. If we're doing this, we move fast."
"How fast?"
I check my watch. "I have a meeting with my lawyer at eleven. Can you meet me at my office at four?"
She nods, a mix of relief and determination in her expression. "I'll be there."
As I turn to leave, I pause, looking back at her. "Just to be clear, this would be strictly business. A contractual arrangement."
She meets my gaze unflinchingly. "Of course. Neither of us is looking for anything real here."
I nod, ignoring the strange twist in my gut at her words. "Four o'clock, Charlie. Don't be late."
My lawyer, James, looks at me like I've lost my mind.
"A marriage contract," he repeats slowly. "For a publicity stunt."
I pace the conference room in my penthouse suite, energy coursing through me. "It's brilliant, actually. The kind of publicity we could never buy."
"It's a legal nightmare," James counters, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Marriage fraud...”
"Not fraud if we're actually legally married with the intent to be married, even if only temporarily," I argue. "People get married for less noble reasons every day."
"And the potential personal complications? You're talking about living with this woman, being seen with her publicly, creating a convincing relationship."
I shrug, though the thought sends an unexpected thrill through me. "It's acting. We're both professionals."
James sighs, recognizing my resolved tone. "Fine. But we're going to structure this as tightly as possible. I want everything in writing; the duration, the terms of the annulment, the financial arrangements, confidentiality clauses."
"Of course." I stop pacing, my mind already racing ahead to logistics. "We'll need a ring."
"Excuse me?"
"A ring. An engagement ring. If we're going to do this, we do it right." I pull out my phone. "I need the best jeweler in Starlight Bay."
James shakes his head. "You're really going all-in on this, aren't you?"
"Go big or go home, James," I say with a grin. "Besides, it's an investment. Part of the marketing expense."
Three hours later, I'm sliding a velvet box into my pocket, the weight of a two-carat diamond ring heavy against my thigh.
It's ostentatious enough to make a statement, elegant enough to suit what I've observed of Charlie's taste.
The fact that I found myself considering what would look good on her hand is something I choose not to examine too closely.
By the time Charlie arrives at my office, the contract is drafted, printed, and waiting on my desk.
Forty-eight pages of legal framework for our fake marriage, including the eight-week timeline, the terms of our public appearances, the separate sleeping arrangements (with provisions for exceptions ‘as mutually agreed upon’), and the clean exit strategy.
She looks slightly nervous as she steps into my penthouse office, her eyes widening as she takes in the panoramic view of Starlight Bay.
"Impressive," she comments, setting down her bag.
"The view helps justify the room rates," I reply, gesturing for her to take a seat on one of the leather couches rather than at the formal desk. I want this conversation to feel less business-like, more personal. A contradiction, given the contract sitting between us.
Charlie skims the document, her brow furrowing slightly as she reads. "This is... comprehensive."
"I believe in clarity," I say, watching her reaction. "Especially in unusual partnerships."
She pauses at a particular section, her cheeks coloring slightly. I know without looking that she's reached the part about physical intimacy, how it's not required but not expressly forbidden, provided both parties consent.
"Problem?" I ask, not bothering to hide my amusement.
She clears her throat. "No. It's good to have everything spelled out." She continues reading, then looks up sharply. "The prenuptial agreement seems excessive."
"Standard for any marriage involving significant assets," I counter. "Even temporary ones."
Charlie finishes reading in silence, then sets the contract down. "I accept the terms."
"Just like that?"
She meets my gaze directly. "I've spent the day thinking about this. I'm committed to making it work. Are you?"
Instead of answering, I reach into my pocket and pull out the velvet box, placing it on top of the contract. "I believe proper proposals include a ring."
Her eyes widen as I open the box, revealing the diamond. "That's..."
"Too much?" I ask, suddenly uncertain.
"No," she says softly. "It's perfect for the story we're telling."
I take the ring from the box and, without fully understanding my own impulse, kneel before her. Her sharp intake of breath is audible in the quiet office.
"Charlie Davis," I say, holding the ring up, "will you fake marry me for the sake of hotel occupancy rates and your career?"
A startled laugh escapes her, genuine and warm. "When you put it that way, how can I refuse?"
I slide the ring onto her finger, surprised by how right it looks there. How my hand lingers on hers longer than necessary.
"We should seal the deal," I say, reaching for a candle on the side table, one of the ones from the Harbor Arts Collective, I realize, that I'd purchased after our meeting.
Lighting it, I drip wax onto the final page of the contract, then press my signet ring into it. "Your turn."
Charlie takes the contract, signing her name in a flowing script before dripping wax beside mine and pressing her thumb into it. "Old school," she comments.
"Sometimes the traditional ways are best," I reply, finding myself drawn to the curve of her neck as she bends over the document.
When she looks up, her face is inches from mine, close enough that I can see flecks of gold in her hazel eyes. My pulse quickens.
"So," she says, her voice slightly breathless, "what now, fiancé?"
The title sends an unexpected jolt through me. "Now," I say, standing and offering her my hand, "we celebrate our engagement."
"With the investors? A press release?"
I pull her to her feet, noting how she fits perfectly against me. "No. Tonight it's just us. The public performance begins tomorrow."
Her eyes search mine, confused but curious. "What did you have in mind?"
I lead her to the door, my hand settling naturally at the small of her back. "Dinner. Champagne. Getting to know my future wife."
Charlie's smile is tentative but genuine. "Strictly for authenticity's sake, of course."
"Of course," I agree, though as we step into the elevator, I'm no longer entirely certain of my own motivations.
What I am certain of is that the next eight weeks are going to be anything but ordinary. And as Charlie's shoulder brushes against mine in the confined space, the diamond on her finger catching the light, I find myself looking forward to every minute of it.