Chapter 19
James
I’m desperate for her to sign this arrangement.
It has to be her. Because she was in the video. There can’t be anyone else in the role of my wife in this pretense.
I still remember that night at the club when we met.
I can see the way the lights caught her legs, and the way she looked in that dress.
The vanilla and coconut scent of hers, which I’ve carried in my memory since.
I've never forgotten how her curves fit in my arms. Her little sighs when she melted into me as I kissed her.
I was a Marine with supposedly iron discipline, but the emotions she evoked in me were overwhelming.
Seeing her again brought all of my old feelings for her to the surface. But I’m determined to hold them in check.
I drag my fingers through my hair and force myself to be patient as she turns the page.
“Any other questions?” I drum my fingers on my thigh, trying to hold onto my frustration.
She hesitates, then turns back a page on the agreement.
“This.” She points at another clause.
The parties expressly agree that no emotional involvement shall arise from this marriage.
“Is it really possible for an agreement to govern our emotions?”
“Absofuckinglutely.”
She seems taken aback. “You sound very confident.”
“I have plenty of practice keeping my feelings under control.”
Her forehead furrows. “I don’t.”
I run my fingers through my hair. “That clause is there to protect us both. The marriage may feel real, but it isn't."
This agreement is the antidote to the years when I was unable to push her out of my mind. I'll spend time with her. I'll see her faults. I won't romanticize her in my mind.
The clause will hold where my willpower can’t. I am not going to let myself get attached to her.
She thinks it through, then nods slowly. "If you can stick to it, so can I."
She continues reading until she reaches the end, then sets it down.
"What happens after the year is over? Do we get divorced?”
The word 'divorce' from her mouth turns my stomach to stone. Why does the thought of parting ways with her feel like I’d be severing a limb?
I swallow down the expletives that threaten to fall from my mouth and school my features into an expression of polite disdain.
"We can cross that bridge when we come to it.”
She purses her lips. “Does it have to be for a year? It feels so long?"
Is the thought of being married to me so repugnant to her? I bat aside the doubt.
"It’s only twelve months. Surely, the effort you’ll be putting in will be worth it when you become a full-fledged chef of my next restaurant."
She blinks. I take in the conflicting expressions zipping across her features.
"The money will be yours to use in any way you want. I’m sure there are things you could help your family with."
I’m assuming that a million pounds would be life-changing for anyone.
When she swallows and looks away, I know…I have her.
"My sister Briar and my niece Freya stay with me. I could use the money to pay for Freya to attend the Royal Drawing School. And buy my sister an apartment so she never has to pay rent again.”
Her shoulders sag.
"You’re right. There’s a lot I could do with a million pounds."
I almost feel sorry that I’ve put her in a spot where she has no choice but to accept the deal. If she doesn’t, she’ll never forgive herself. She’ll have passed over the opportunity to change the trajectory of her niece’s life.
And I’m enough of a bastard that I’m also grateful I have the means to coerce her into signing the agreement.
I’m doing it to save my restaurant and to get my inheritance.
Period. End of story.
The agreement ensures Harper won't get hurt because she won't expect anything more from me.
"You should have your solicitor examine the contract before you sign it.”
She shakes her head. "I don’t have one."
"I’ll arrange to have one appointed to you."
She looks up at me, a confused expression in her eyes. "You’d do that?"
"It’s only right that I watch out for your interests. I don’t want you to feel that you’re being deceived in any way."
Her lips curve with sardonic humor. "You’re my best friend’s brother. You wouldn’t risk misleading me. It’ll make Phe mad at you. And you don’t want that.”
At the sound of my sister’s name, I wince. "I’m going to have to tell her about us."
"We’ll tell her together."
I frown. "You sure? I can—"
"Nope. I’m an equal party in this arrangement. And she is my best friend. We’ll tell her together." She juts out her chin in a way that tells me, I won’t be able to change her mind on this.
"Fair enough." I snatch up my Montblanc pen and offer it to her.
She looks at it, then at my face. She hesitates. There’s residual doubt in her eyes.
This time, I can’t stop my heart from softening.
I reach out with my other hand, open her palm, and place the pen in it. "I would never take advantage of you. I promise, you don’t need to worry about anything nefarious from me." I cover the pen and her palm with my much larger one.
“Says the man who proposed a fake marriage.” She half laughs.
“There is that. But the agreement is in place to protect the both of us from getting hurt.” I hold her gaze.
She searches my features, then sighs. "What if I regret it?"
"What if you don’t?"
“What if I realize I made a mistake?” She chews on her lower lip.
My attention drops instantly to her mouth. Desire, which I only just forced aside, surges back to the surface.
I clamp down on it again.
My self-control wins. This time.
"What if it’s not a mistake?" I hold her gaze. "What if signing this agreement is the thing that dramatically changes your and your family’s life for the better?"