CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER FIVE
‘W HAT ?’ W HAT KIND of a question was that? The man was mad. Whatever else had happened in the last twenty years, and however successful he’d become, it was clear that he was losing his marbles.
‘It’s a perfectly simple question. All it requires is a yes or no answer. If it’s yes—your name would suggest you could be—you were Marianne Wheeler back then, if I remember correctly—and then, as much as I’d love to catch up with you and talk over old times, you’re free to leave.’
Mari licked her lips. ‘And if it’s a no?’
‘Then I have a proposition for you. One that you might want to hear. One that will profit you generously.’
‘I want nothing from you. I already told you: I won’t work for you.’
He cocked his head to one side. ‘Which would seem to indicate that your answer would be no, and that you’re not married.’
She opened her mouth to speak, and just as quickly closed it again. Because he was right. Because if she’d said yes she’d already be out of here.
‘That still doesn’t mean I’m open to offers.’
‘Then maybe you might want to reconsider. What if I offered you a little inducement? How does one million dollars sound?’
Her mind boggled. Her accounting brain got to work. What could she do with one million dollars? What would it mean to her? No desperate rush to find another job, for a start. Money to give Valerie that raise she’d been so patiently waiting for. Maybe even some much-needed upgrades to Suzanne’s house. Sure, it wouldn’t last for ever, but it would be a good start until she could find another job.
But Mari knew that there was no such thing as free money.
She swallowed. ‘And what would I be expected to do for this windfall?’
‘Nothing illegal or unpleasant,’ he said. ‘All you have to do is marry me.’
Mari laughed. The sound started on a hiccup before swelling up from deep in her belly, long and loud and maybe even a little bit hysterical. Because the idea was hysterical. It had to be a joke. The man could not be serious.
‘Marry you?’ she managed when finally she could breathe again. ‘I’m sorry, but now it seems you’re the one writing the comedy routines.’
There was a glimmer of steel in his dark eyes. He didn’t like being laughed at. ‘I assure you it wouldn’t be a permanent arrangement. I need a temporary wife for a few short weeks, that’s all.’
‘I don’t care what you need. You’re asking the wrong woman.’
‘I seem to recall that once, a long time ago, you might have been more amenable to the suggestion.’
Her spine stiffened. How dared he bring that up? It was almost as if he was taunting her. ‘Like you said, Dom, we were both kids. And twenty years on, be it temporarily or otherwise, I wouldn’t marry you—’
‘If I were the last man on earth?’
‘In the universe, more like it. And now, can I go?’
He smiled. Not the reaction she’d been expecting. ‘So, let’s make it more interesting. What if I offered you two million dollars?’
She shook her head, trying to make sense of the conversation and finding none. ‘This is madness. Why are you even talking like this? Why would you even ask me?’
‘Because you’re perfect. Because you hate me. And because my mother is dying and wants to see me married before she dies.’
Forget the ridiculousness of his offer. Her fingers clutched at the jacket over her chest. ‘Rosaria is dying?’ The blows just kept coming, first Eric and now Dominico’s mother.
‘You remember her name?’
‘Of course I do.’ Mari had met both his parents, if only briefly. They’d been visiting family in Australia when Dom had introduced them at a dinner shortly before they’d returned to San Sebastián, leaving Dom to complete a second semester at university. The Spanish woman had struck Mari with her beauty and elegance and her deep love for her Australian husband. She’d been adamant that her son should stay on to study and learn more of his Australian heritage, even when her husband had preferred Dominico go home with them to learn the family business. ‘But she’s so young,’ Mari said. ‘She can’t yet be seventy.’
‘Sixty-nine,’ he said. ‘And she wants to see me married before she dies.’
For a moment Mari wavered. What must it mean to have your one final wish fulfilled? But no, Mari told herself in the next moment, don’t fall for that. This was Dom’s problem, not hers, no matter how much she’d liked the woman. No matter how sad the news.
Her backbone stiffened. ‘And she wants you to marry someone who hates you? How bizarre.’
‘No, I want to marry someone who hates me. My mother is wanting the whole fairy-tale scenario. You’ll have to pretend to love me when we’re in Spain until…well, until she dies. And, given you clearly hate me, the divorce will be both a release and relief for the two of us.’
This was bonkers. He was bonkers.
‘Do you know how crazy you sound?’ Once upon a time she’d been crazily, totally in love with Dom, but there was no way she could pretend to be in love with him now, not after what had happened. There was no way she could convincingly pull off such a farce.
‘I know, but my mother has weeks to live, if that. Why wouldn’t I want to make her last days happy?’
That, at least, made sense. She was here, wasn’t she, at the behest of her mentor, Eric Cooper, promising to meet the man she’d least wanted to meet. You’d do such a thing for family or a good friend.
And this was Dom, who’d taken off from Sydney the moment he’d heard his father had suffered a heart attack. Family was important to them both. Except, it seemed, for the family they’d been growing together…
The family he’d been all too ready to discard.
She couldn’t do it. There was too much pain in going back. Too much pain in being anywhere in the orbit of this man. There was too much raw hurt. There was no way she could turn a blind eye to what he’d done and—what? Marry him?
What a joke. She’d dreamed of marrying him back then. She’d dreamed of making a family with the man she’d loved.
And what had happened to those dreams?
They’d turned to dust.
The man before her was still waiting for her answer.
‘No,’ she said, resolute. ‘I can’t be the only woman on the planet who wants nothing to do with you. I’m sure there’s quite the queue. Find somebody else who doesn’t want to have anything to do with you.’
‘Two million dollars isn’t enough? Then what about three?’
‘You’d pay someone that much money to pretend to be your wife? Notwithstanding the fact that you’ll be deceiving your mother. Lying to her in her final weeks or months. Expecting me to lie to her too. What if she finds out? What if she learns that her duplicitous son was trying to trick her? How do you think she’ll feel?’
His jaw tightened. ‘She won’t find out.’
She shrugged and turned, reaching for the door handle. So close to escape that she could taste it. ‘Good luck with that. But you’re going to need a better actor than me.’
‘Five million,’ he said.
Her hand hovered over the door handle. Could this day get any weirder? Bad news, a late train, even worse news, a lost job and then a ridiculous offer for her to marry the man she least wanted to. Surely this must be some kind of Alice in Wonderland dream? What the hell had she eaten last night?
‘Well,’ he said, ‘is five million dollars enough to convince you to marry me?’
She heard the hum of a vacuum cleaner in the corridor outside. She heard a helicopter returning joy flight tourists to the helipad on the river. That signature ginger flower Langham scent was still there with every breath she took. So no, she wasn’t dreaming, but it was clear the power was firmly in her hands. She abandoned the door handle and turned back to face him.
Mentally, she totted up the yearly costs of Suzanne’s care, costs that would escalate year on year. Costs that she’d find near impossible to cover on even a decent salary. It was a lot. And then she added a margin for error. A fat margin.
‘All right. You want my price to faux marry you? I’ll do it. But it will cost you. I want ten million dollars.’ She waited a moment. ‘Or no deal.’
A nerve in his jaw popped. His eyes bored into her. ‘I never figured you for a gold-digger, Marianne.’
‘I never figured you for a ditherer. Do you want to cement this deal, Senor Estefan, or should I just leave now? I’m perfectly happy to leave right now.’
She reached a hand for the door handle again.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Ten million dollars it is.’