7. Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Keaton
“You mean sex.”
Layne’s gaze darted around the hipster restaurant and occupied tables as if scared someone was listening in on our conversation. So what.
Her mahogany eyes returned to me. “Among other things, yes,” she said quietly, pulling at the sleeve of her gray hoodie.
I couldn’t help the smirk. Man, she was uptight. “Physical interaction is a two-way street for me. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want.”
A coffee machine hissed somewhere behind me, mingling with the chatter of the other patrons eating lunch. The buffet looked delicious, but I wasn’t hungry.
“Good.”
The way she said it sounded like I was the most repulsive man she’d ever crossed paths with and would rather die than having to touch me. Ouch.
She took a sip of her tea. Set it back down. “Will it be a non-monogamous marriage?”
“Do you want it to be?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then it won’t.” I was all for doing whatever the heck you pleased when single, but when in an exclusive relationship, you stayed loyal to that person. End of story.
Meaning if Layne didn’t want to get physical, I wouldn’t get to see any action for a year.
A whole freaking year.
Man.
I leaned back in the metal chair, second-guessing my plan for the first time. Could I last that long?
For LGD. I had to do it for LGD.
Even more for Monroe and Alfie. They deserved this sacrifice.
Sniffing, I leaned forward again, resting my arms on the small table. “All right, summing up. We have to stay married for a year, during which I’ll teach you everything about investing and starting your own business, so you can stand on your own two feet after we get divorced. I’ll provide whatever you need—including money to invest—and you accompany me to events in return. Physical contact only when we’re in public and have to pretend to be a couple. None in private unless you initiate it.”
“I won’t.”
“We’ll see about that.”
The corners of her mouth tugged upward, like a dare.
I gave her one of my own smug smiles. I’d prove her wrong.
Not that Layne was my type. She was pretty with her bronze tan and long, dark brown curls, but her shyness smothered any chance of attractiveness. She hid her body under a hoodie and jeans, and was too soft-spoken. I normally wouldn’t even pay attention to a woman like her. I needed fire.
The kind the woman at the table next to us exhibited. Confident movements, her outfit—leather skirt, crop top, and heels—daring but not too revealing.
“What if it doesn’t work at all?” Layne asked, drawing my attention back to her. “I mean, what if I’m not well before an event even starts?”
“Then you stay home in bed.”
“Okay.” She white-knuckled her tea. When she saw me looking at her, she pulled her hands back and hid them under the table.
“Something wrong?”
Her expression darkened. “It’s just so little. I don’t want to . . .” She let out a sigh. “I don’t want to live off your money.”
I laughed. She obviously didn’t know my net worth. Even if I bankrolled ten people, it wouldn’t make a dent in my assets.
“Believe me, you won’t.” I tossed the rest of my coffee back and set the empty cup on the table. “You accompanying me to events will boost LGD’s income.”
Her eyebrows dipped into a frown. “How so?”
“Sales are closely linked to the company’s image. I’m the face of Lincoln Grady Distillery, and if I get married, it will polish my image and with it, the company’s. That, in turn, boosts the sales.” I wasn’t willing to go into details about my current image and the resulting dropping numbers. She probably already knew about it from the media anyway.
“Okay . . .” Layne glanced to the side, apparently still wrestling with some doubts. “When do you need an answer?”
“How about this: I’ll have a contract drawn up and sent to you that states everything we talked about. I’ll give you a week’s time to think on it.” I dug a business card out of my wallet and extended it to her. Doubted she still had the one I’d given her three years ago. “If you have questions, call me.”
“Sounds good.” Her smile seemed almost relieved. She cleared her throat. “Then I don’t want to keep you any longer.”
We rose, and I followed Layne out of the restaurant into the crisp spring air. People walked and cycled past us, train breaks screeching in the background.
“Where do you need to go?” she asked.
“My ride is there.” I pointed my chin at the black SUV parked along the curb to my right.
Layne blinked. “Okay . . . I have to catch the train.” She threw a thumb over her shoulder at the train station. “Thank you for taking the time. You must be very busy.” Her words sounded sincere.
I smiled. “I’m always happy to take the time for a promising business deal.” These words were chosen deliberately. She had to understand that it was nothing more than that.
“Okay, then . . .”
As she looked up at me expectantly, I put a hand on her back and leaned down. The kiss I planted on her cheek caused her to stiffen. Definitely the complete opposite of the women I usually associated with.
After we said our goodbyes, I strolled over to Alec, one of LGD’s drivers, who held the back door open for me. I nodded my thanks and got in. During the drive to the airport, I mentally replayed the conversation with Layne. She was the complete opposite of what I was looking for in a woman. She lacked fire, and that made her boring. Which meant she was the perfect fit. She didn’t work, which Regina deemed “lazy,” and she was anything but ladylike—also unacceptable. Regina wanted a woman with elegance and grace, and Layne possessed neither. She wasn’t rude or lacking manners, but definitely had a tomboy thing going. Regina would kill me.
I grinned. It was brilliant.
I could also get one over on the media. They would be surprised if I married a normal woman instead of a Barbie. She wasn’t a model or an Instagram celebrity—she was a nobody. She didn’t even run in the circles of the rich and beautiful. How could they not think I had turned my life around a hundred eighty degrees?
And once they found out she was sick, I’d score even more points. Who wouldn’t automatically like a man who married someone despite their illness?
Man, I was a selfish jerk.
Leaning back in the comfortable leather seat, I sighed. Yes, Layne Rhyner was my perfect future wife.