Chapter 15 Dorian #2
She watches me the whole way. I grab the scotch and pour two glasses, filling them halfway, then head back to her, holding hers out for her to take.
"Drink." It’s not a question. She knows, so she takes it and knocks it back in one swig.
"Thank you." She swallows and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
I lower myself in the chair opposite her and take a sip.
I'm not a nervous person. I've sat across from men who wanted me dead and kept my pulse at resting. Unlike her, I can do the same thing now.
"So, let’s hear it." I lean forward and take another sip. "You look like you have a lot of questions."
She sets the glass on the coffee table and lifts her chin, a spark of courage entering her eyes. "I'd like to accept the offer. But I have some terms of my own."
Okay. This is going well so far. She wants to accept.
But Elodie Harper isn’t exactly in a position to be making demands, especially of me.
Nevertheless, I’ll hear her out. There will be things she thought about that I won’t have.
I just hope none of them have anything to do with Jack. "What are your terms?"
Her shoulders set, her jaw firms, and her hands still.
"I have three. The first is about my career," she starts.
"I want to be able to pursue it with no interference.
I've always wanted to be a teacher, and I'm close to the height of my career right now.
In a few years, I could be head of the department if I stay on track.
I don't want to give that up. Of course, um… having children would be an exception. I’d take breaks then, but I want to always work. "
I’m impressed she’s thought about so much, even down to the children.
"I see no problem with that." I mean it. “I would never come between you and your career.”
Relief is evident on her face. “That’s great.”
"What else?”
She narrows her eyes. "What exactly did you mean by living separate lives?"
I don't answer immediately. I drain the rest of my drink and set the glass down. “It means we live under one roof as man and wife, but we can see other people.”
She stiffens. The whole idea must be completely against her, but she’s still looking at me like she’s interested.
“What happens if we find someone we want to be with?”
I lift my chin toward her. “You mean you, little lamb.”
“Or you.”
“No. That’s not likely to happen to me, so let’s talk about you. If you find someone, we'll figure it out.”
“Just like that?”
I shrug. “Just like that.”
“And you’d be okay with me having a relationship?” She looks at me as if she’s trying to search for some shred of emotion that shows I’d be bothered.
She won’t find anything. Sure, the thought of anyone touching what’s mine irks the fuck out of me. But she doesn’t need to know that right now.
“Like I said, we’d figure it out.” I drag in a breath.
"Is there a time frame for the arrangement?"
"Not as such. There is no get-out clause, but I can’t imagine that my father would want either of us to stay in a marriage we’re not happy in.
That said, we’d need to stay married for a few years.
" My father is not letting up this time. And I know what he’s like when he gets like this.
He’ll find a way to block me into doing everything exactly as he wants.
Slowly, Elodie nods. “Years. Okay. I can do that."
"Good. So, what's the actual question?"
She takes a breath. "I don't want to be embarrassed.
" She goes still. "If you're seeing someone, I don't want to know about it.
And I don't want the world to know about it, either.
I don't want to run into her at the mall, or the supermarket, or anywhere, and have her look at me as though I'm… less."
That sounds like it’s coming from a place of experience.
“My father loved us,” she continues. “But he wasn’t a saint. He cheated on my mother. All the time.”
I wonder what she’d think if she knew it was me who first caught him cheating. I told Jack, and it was his decision to keep his mother in the dark. I would have told her to leave, but it wasn’t my place.
"Done," I say. “I will not embarrass you.”
She blinks. "Really?"
"Yes."
She stares at me for a beat too long, as if she prepared a longer argument and doesn't know where to put it now. But her bravado slides back in place. "What about the scandal? And Grace Astor?"
She’s had time to do her homework. "You don't have to worry about that. I'm handling it. No one will expose me in that way again."
I would never put myself in that position again. We have a mole fucking with us, but it was my fault. I was careless. And I shouldn’t have been with such a high-profile woman.
Elodie watches me, cataloguing my reaction. "Are you still seeing her?"
Her guarded eyes give me nothing. She’s almost as good at keeping her emotions on a leash as me, so I can't tell if she's asking because she's genuinely curious or if she wants to know for practical reasons. Like a heads-up, should she ever run into Grace.
"I thought you didn't want to know." I cock my head and give her a flinty stare.
"This is different. It's a known scandal. If we're getting married, I don't want people to think you're still seeing her."
Fair. "They won't. And I'm not seeing her. We'll get married in three to four weeks. By then, the scandal will have blown over.”
Her skin pales. “Three to four weeks? For the wedding?”
“Yes.” I already expected the time frame to shock her, so I’m not surprised. “I move fast.”
“You certainly do.” Her brows pinch. “How will we explain such a quick wedding?”
“My team will build a new narrative for the public."
"What does that mean?"
"It means the public will think whatever I want them to think.
We build up to the engagement, then the wedding.
Everything will look natural. By the time we're standing at the altar, no one will remember Grace Astor's name.
At least not linked to me." It’s true. Yes, the whispers will remain, but with the right amount of money, you can paint whatever picture you want people to see.
Elodie considers this. "Okay. I guess that works."
"What's the final thing, little lamb?"
She's been steady all this time, but something shifts in her composure. She looks down at her hands, then back up at me, and there's a discomfort in her eyes she can't mask.
"I don't want to do IVF." Her voice is quieter. "I… don't want to put my body through something so drastic for a contract."
Her fingers twist together in her lap. She won't look at me fully, and I understand what she can't bring herself to say—she won't go through that for a man who doesn't love her.
Which means… our only option of children is the natural way.
A flush creeps down her neck at the same time the thought enters my mind.
I've known for a while now that sleeping with her would ruin something in me, so I placed her at the top of the do-not-fuck list.
Where do I stand now with that?
My legacy is on the line. Legacy is the reason we are sitting in this room. But she is right; she shouldn’t have to put her body through something so drastic. This isn’t just about terms and conditions anymore. It’s about her.
The idea of touching her—of going beyond the kiss at the club—doesn’t sit well with me. But it spreads through my mind in ways it shouldn’t, sliding under my skin and into my dark desires before I can shut it down.
My eyes drag over her relentlessly, catching on the flush in her throat and the slight tremor in her hands.
I imagine owning her body and watching her yield at my touch. The temptation is as enticing as dangling a mouse in front of a lion.
I shove the thought from my mind, but I can see she’s thinking about it, too.
She’s looking at me as if this request is the term that matters most to her, but she understands how many lines we’ll have to cross.
"Done," I say, putting her out of her misery, but my answer carries more weight than I imagined.
What the hell am I getting myself into?
Thanks, Dad. You’re the real hardass.
Elodie’s cheeks flush, and she looks more taken aback than relieved, but relief comes moments later.
"Is that it?" I ask, steering the conversation back to safer waters.
She fumbles. "Yes. Um… is that it from you? Do you have a date, or something, for when you'll let me know if we're going through with it?"
"Now." I rest my hand on the arm of the chair. "I choose you now."
Her breathing picks up in tandem with the clock on the mantel. “Oh… thanks.” She’s right to sound uncertain because I’m sure she doesn’t fully know what she’s agreeing to, either.
"I'll have my lawyers draft a contract. You'll have it by tomorrow." I finish the scotch and set the glass on the cabinet. "In the meantime, go pack your things. I want you moved in by tomorrow night."
"Tomorrow night?"
"Yes. I’ll send people to collect your things."
She opens her mouth, closes it, then stutters. "Okay. I can do that."
"Good.”
"I guess we’re getting married, then.” Poor girl. She doesn't sound that different from a mourner at a funeral.
"We are."
She stands, smooths her coat the same way she did on the porch, and I recognize the gesture now. It's what she used to do when she needed a second to collect herself.
"I better get going. I'll see you tomorrow. Or… whenever." She dips her head and turns toward the door.
I stand, too, but there’s something I’m curious to know. "Elodie."
She stops and turns to face me.
"Why did you say yes?" Our eyes lock, and she stills, tension returning. "Besides the obvious financial benefit. Why?"
She looks at me for a long moment, and her guard slips, allowing me to see the chaos within.
"I'm done with this version of me," she says. "Time to wake up. Get my head out of the clouds and try something different. That might work better than what I did before."
“What did you do before?” I don’t know why I ask.
“Dream.” The word comes out fragile, like it doesn’t belong to her anymore.
I almost feel sad. The version of herself she's burying was the one I liked.
She was one of those people who should still believe in things—whatever that thing was.
Now she sounds broken. As broken as me.
I push the thought out of my mind and stop myself from examining why that bothers me.
Elodie gives me a curt smile, then leaves. I listen to her footsteps until I can’t hear them anymore, then the house is quiet again.
I pour another scotch and think of the victory I just claimed.
I got myself a wife. Who would have thought it would be Jack’s little sister?
The girl who was off-limits to me.
Now she’s mine.