Chapter 4 Emily
“Well done, everyone. See you tomorrow,” the yoga instructor says, signaling the end of class. I sit up slowly, rolling my mat and glancing at Lisa, who’s already on her feet, her usual energy barely contained.
“You want to grab something to eat?” she asks, stretching her arms over her head.
I nod. “Yeah, let’s go downstairs.”
We head out of the studio and down to the deli shop on the corner. The nutty scent of freshly brewed coffee greets us as we walk in. We get two coffees and two salads, an early dinner for both of us.
The small table at the corner empties and we quickly make a beeline for it.
“You’re not actually considering it, are you?” Lisa asks, picking up where we left off before class, her eyes widening as she leans over the table.
I sigh, tearing open the top of my salad container. “I am. The company is in a bad state. You know that.”
“You could bring in an investor,” she insists, stabbing her fork into the salad. “Someone who’ll be a silent partner. There’s got to be a company willing to do it without tying you to… well, this.”
I shake my head. “It was an option at first. But most of the investors I’ve talked to want to restructure the hotels completely. Some even suggested demolishing a few locations.
“They’d bring in their own teams, cut costs, replace our employees—people who have been with us since they were eighteen. They’ve built their lives with Riviera. Most of them hope to retire with us.”
Lisa’s eyes soften as she listens, her fork suspended midair. “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”
I nod, taking a sip of my coffee. “It is.”
There’s a pause, and then she says, “I could be an investor. ”
I blink, surprised by the offer. I know she means well—Lisa’s always been the supportive, jump-in-with-both-feet type of best friend.
She runs a cosmetics company that’s already causing a buzz in the market, but they’re still growing.
“Lisa, you’ve got your own business to think about,” I say gently. “Your company is doing amazing, but you’re not in a position to direct funds into saving Riviera. You don’t need to take on that kind of risk.”
She frowns, poking at her salad. “I hate seeing you like this, Em. You’ve worked so hard. Your Dad worked so hard. There has to be another way.”
“I wish there was. But if we don’t get a cash injection soon, we’ll lose everything. The hotels need renovations, repairs, marketing… without capital, we’re dead in the water.”
Lisa leans back in her chair, studying me with her usual intensity. “So, what? You’re seriously going to marry Andrew Bennett?”
I let out a breath, staring out the window at the cars passing by. “I don’t know. It’s insane, right? But I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Of course it’s insane,” she exclaims, setting her fork down with a thud. “You barely know him. You don’t even know if you can stand being around him for more than an hour.”
“I know,” I murmur, stirring my coffee absently. “But if we get married—even if it’s just a year—the company survives. His family gets what they want, we get what we need, and then we can both walk away. A year will go by before I know it.”
“And you’re okay with that?” Lisa asks, her voice softer now, more concerned than shocked.
“Honestly? I don’t know,” I admit. “It’s not like I dreamed of this kind of marriage. I didn’t even love Daniel, but at least I knew him. Andrew’s different. He’s cold. Distant. But he understands the stakes. And right now, I can’t afford to let emotions get in the way of what needs to be done. The fact that he understands the situation – it may just be enough. ”
Lisa’s quiet for a moment, watching me. “Just promise me you’ll think about this long and hard before you say yes.”
“I will,” I say, though in the back of my mind, I’m only thinking about how high the stakes are. How quickly things are unraveling. How the solution might be sitting right in front of me, in the form of a marriage that neither of us wants, but both of us need.
After dinner with Lisa, I head home, still mulling over our conversation. It’s crazy to think that marrying Andrew Bennett might actually be the solution to all of this.
But, what other options do I have left? As I sit on the couch, my phone in hand, I stare at the screen for a long time before I finally begin typing.
Could you come by my office tomorrow?
I hit send, my heart pounding a little faster than I’d like to admit. Almost immediately, the screen lights up with his reply.
Andrew: Yes. What time works for you?
I bite my lip, thinking it over. Mornings are usually chaotic, but better to get this over with then let it hang over me all day.
How about ten?
The response is quick, as always.
Andrew: I’ll be there.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. There. It’s done. I put my phone down and head to the bathroom, hoping a shower will clear my mind, but, even the hot water can’t wash away the worry of what’s to come.
At least with Daniel, I knew to expect wild parties, never seeing my husband, and possibly affairs. With Andrew, it’s a complete blank slate. If we do go ahead with the wedding, I don’t know what to expect.
***
I sit at my desk, my eyes flicking to the clock on the wall. Ten to ten. Andrew should be here any minute .
I check over my notes again, not that I need to. The facts haven’t changed: Riviera needs a capital injection, and fast. But Andrew's proposal is driving me crazy. One minute, I’ve made up my mind and in the next, I decide it’s a completely stupid idea.
At exactly 10:00, the intercom on my desk buzzes. I can’t help but grin as I press the button. At least he’s predictable, responsible, and reliable to a point. She definitely wouldn’t have that ‘nanny’ feeling she had with Daniel.
“Mr. Bennett is here, Miss Young,” Catherine says.
“Please, show him in.”
Andrew’s time-keeping is refreshing, honestly. The first time I went for dinner with Daniel, he kept me waiting at the restaurant for half an hour, not even a text to let me know he’d be late.
I like that Andrew values my time, values time in general.
The door opens and he steps inside, his expression inscrutable, all business. He’s wearing a sharp suit, every inch of him put together, like nothing could ruffle him.
His dark brown, slightly tousled hair that falls just above his collar, giving him a rugged, sexy look. It didn’t help that even in a suit that was obviously made for him, the fabric seemed slight strained over his muscles, emphasizing and drawing the eye to what she could only imagine lay under the fabric.
“Good morning, Andrew,” I say, keeping my tone professional, quickly disregarding the path my thoughts had taken.
“Emily,” he says, walking toward my desk. He sits down without hesitation, his movements precise, deliberate. He doesn’t waste time with pleasantries, and for a second, I wonder if he ever does.
“I appreciate you coming in,” I start, clasping my hands together on the desk in front of me. “I’ve had some time to think about your proposal.”
His eyes narrow slightly, but he remains silent, waiting for me to continue. Those sharp blue eyes don’t miss a thing, and I can feel him gauging my every word, every move .
“It’s unconventional,” I say, searching for the right way to phrase it. “But I’m not dismissing it outright.”
“It is unconventional,” Andrew agrees, as if we’re discussing the sale of a property. “But we both know what our families need. It’s practical, and right now, practicality is what matters.”
I lean forward slightly. “And you’re comfortable with that? With marrying someone you barely know for the sake of business?”
He shrugs, not missing a beat. “Comfort isn’t part of the equation. This is about what needs to be done.”
I stare at him for a moment, trying to read between the lines, trying to see if there’s anything else behind his calm, calculated demeanor. But Andrew Bennett is an enigma, and I’m not sure I’ll ever crack that exterior.
“And what happens after the year is up?” I ask, leaning back again. “What then?”
“We go our separate ways, as we agreed,” he says simply. “No strings. Our families get what they need, and we move on.”
It sounds so straightforward when he says it. So clean. Andrew seems to have worked out the whole thing in his head.
“What about the living arrangement? Would we live in the same house?” I ask.
Andrew frowns. ““My house is bigger. It would make more sense for you to move in with me.”
“No,” is my instant response. “I’m not moving into your house.”
He waves off my protests. “We can fight about that later,” he says, like the logistics of where we live are a minor detail compared to the rest.
I take a breath. “What about sleeping arrangements?” My voice falters. I hate how unsure I sound, but this is the reality we’re discussing—a marriage, even if it’s just on paper.
That’s when I see it. A smile. The first time I’ve ever seen him smile, and damn it, he’s incredibly handsome when he does. The smile softens his otherwise serious face, making him look more human, less animalistic statue.
For a second, I forget the stoic man who walked in earlier.
“Surely,” he teases, his voice light for the first time, “You don’t think this is a ruse to get you into my bed?”
Heat rushes to my face. “That’s not what I’m saying,” I protest, embarrassed, looking anywhere but at him.
“Relax,” he says, the hint of a smile still on his lips. “Different rooms. We’ll only be married in name, Emily.” His lighthearted voice changes back to his business tone, “But, don’t do anything that will embarrass me, or our families.”
That wipes the away my embarrassment. The insinuation stings, and I can’t stop the flash of anger. I lean forward, my eyes narrowing. “What do you take me for?”
Andrew’s expression shifts, what was left of his smile fading completely. His eyes lock onto mine, serious again. “I don’t know you, Emily. And you don’t know me. I might have researched you, but there’s only so much a search brings up.”
I open my mouth to argue, but then close it again. He’s right. We don’t know each other. Not really. The craziness of this entire proposal hits me all over again. We’re talking about marriage—an actual marriage—and we’re practically strangers.
I exhale, leaning back in my chair, trying to calm myself. “We really don’t know each other, do we?”