Chapter 11
LINCOLN
When I get out of the shower and head downstairs, I find a pile of boxes waiting for me on the doorstep.
I scoop the packages into my arms and haul everything inside to my home office. Dropping the boxes onto my neat, organized desk, I grab my letter opener and methodically open up each package.
A new set of graphic novels for Cameron. Some office supplies that have been sitting in my online cart for weeks. A fancy ergonomic mouse. A frame for an award Cameron won at school a few months ago. A book on athlete recruitment.
Before I even finish opening the last box, regret consumes me. This is insane. I’m insane.
I usually don’t make impulse buys. I plan, and I make pro-con lists, and I weigh my options.
But as I surfed the internet while stuck at the train tracks at the end of my painful lunch meeting with those egotistical, married assholes, I spotted this cheap engagement ring on sale—and available for two-hour shipping.
I didn’t think. I just acted.
And now I’m staring at this shiny little hunk of metal, wondering if accepts returns on the basis of ‘a moment of temporary insanity’. Because that’s what it was. Insanity.
When I placed this order, I was actually thinking I might be able to convince Jules to marry me.
It’s just that, those businessmen kept blabbing on with all their marriage talk, and it got to my head.
I felt desperate. But now, hours later, I see it for what it was.
A dumb, stupid, pathetic, laughable idea.
I don’t like Jules, and she doesn’t like me. One night in the sheets followed by one conversation in an abandoned alley doesn’t change that.
I whip open my desk drawer, tossing the ring box into the very back, hoping it never sees the light of day again. I don’t think I could handle the embarrassment of trying to explain this spontaneous purchase to anyone.
The doorbell rings suddenly, making me jolt. Good grief. I’m jumpy as hell.
Shaking the jitters off, I scoop up the rest of the cardboard boxes and drop them off in the recycling bin on the way to the front door. I swing it open, not knowing what to expect on my porch.
I’m definitely not expecting her.
My jaw flaps open.
My gut tightens.
My cock jumps. Stop that!
“Jules?”
She lifts her hand in a quick, awkward wave. “Um, can we talk?”
It takes considerable strength to keep my face blank while my mind is spinning out in a full-blown panic, trying to figure out why she’s here at my house, unannounced.
My first thought is pregnancy. I knocked her up. I impregnated a woman who hates me. Because that’s just how my stupid luck has been functioning these days.
But then I remember, we didn’t actually have sex in real life. Only in my head. Thankfully, you can’t get someone pregnant by fantasizing about having sex with them. Even if you’ve been doing it obsessively all day and night in every position imaginable for the past two days.
“Sure. Come on in,” I say, inviting her inside.
Bypassing the living room, I lead her to my office, because that seems a hell of a lot safer than the couch. Or even the kitchen, considering how things got started last time.
She drops into a chair in front of my desk, while I move to the other side. When she chooses to start picking at her nails and refuses to look at me, I finally speak up.
“So what’s going on, Jules? Is something wrong?”
She clears her throat. “I…I don’t know. Maybe? I’m well…I’ve been thinking about what you said.”
My heartrate picks up. “What I said?”
“Yeah. You know, that stupid joke you made about us getting married to solve all our problems.”
Am I dreaming right now? There’s no way Jules came to my house tonight to suggest we get hitched.
But I keep my reactions in check, trying to give off a stoic vibe.
“And?” I say, a master at hiding my excitement.
She shrugs out of her leather jacket and balls it up in her lap. “And…maybe it’s not a bad idea. This whole marriage thing.”
“Hmm.” I frown, pretending like this is all her idea. My brothers are always telling me I have a killer poker face, and it’s serving me well in this moment.
I’m a professional negotiator, and I have a strong suspicion that the only way this marriage thing will work is if Jules thinks she’s in control.
Besides, I kind of want her to beg and plead her case a bit. Her “I faked it” comment earlier bruised my ego. A little groveling is the least she could do to make it up to me now.
“Go on…” I say, crossing my arms over my chest, trying to pretend I’m not riding on a wild rollercoaster of emotions as I sit here, staring at her.
“Well, I was thinking, a marriage between us might work. I mean, none of it would be for real—not to us, at least—and we’d only have to stay married just until we both get what we want,” Jules lays out her case, her voice cracking.
This moment of vulnerability is rare for her, and I’m secretly enjoying it.
“How?” I mutter.
“I’m supposed to get my trust fund on my twenty-seventh birthday, which is just around the corner.
But now—thanks to Great-Grandma’s ridiculous new rules—I have to be married to be eligible for it.
” She rolls her eyes, and I never thought I’d find her look of defiance so cute.
Bonus points since her defiance might just benefit me now.
“And what do you know about what I want?” I challenge her.
This is when her face turns a little red. “Your business partners,” she says impatiently. “If we were married, I bet I’d be able to help fast-track your business deal.”
“So basically, a marriage of convenience?”
“Um, y-yes.”
On the outside, I barely react. Inside, I’m a tornado, spinning out of control. I can’t keep up with each new thought that pops into my head. I’m busy trying to sort it all out. Trying to figure out how all the pieces will fit. Trying to understand if we could really pull this off.
Is it actually possible?
But Jules takes my silence as something else. Her expression falls.
“This was stupid,” she says, rising out of her chair, jacket in hand. “I shouldn’t have come here.”
It takes her almost leaving before my brain can finally catch up with the rest of me. “Wait!” I call out.
She pauses, standing in front of my desk, uncertainty swirling in those pretty brown eyes.
I don’t waste any more time, yanking open my desk drawer, reaching all the way to the back until I find what I’m looking for. Then I’m holding the flimsy, cheap ring box in my palm. I pop it open.
“Fine. Let’s do it. Let’s get married.”
Her stare grows harder and harder as she realizes what just happened. “Wait. You made me beg? While knowing fully well that you wanted this all along?”
My half-grin gives me away.
“You are such an ass, Lincoln Raines!” She flings her jacket onto the chair and stomps her foot.
“Fair. But will you make me a married ass?” I ask coyly, which earns me another glare.
Her arms fold tightly across her chest. “Hell no! I’m not marrying you until you propose properly.”
I don’t hesitate. I immediately drop down to one knee on my office floor, right at her feet, looking up at her.
Before I can hold up the ring again, she barks out, “Both knees, sucker!”
I feel the urge to roll my eyes, but nonetheless I readjust and find myself positioned on both knees.
“Now, crawl around a little bit,” she orders me.
It’s my turn to give her a dirty stare. “Look—are you going to marry me or not?”
She exhales in an angry huff. “Ugh. Sure.”
A weight rolls off my shoulders. I suck in a deep breath, and then I take hold of Jules’s hand. It feels so tiny and delicate in mine. I sweetly kiss the back of it, pretending not to notice the goosebumps that pop up on her forearm.
I clear my throat, and look up into her eyes from my spot on the floor. “Jules—what’s your middle name?”
She frowns. “Mei. It’s Mei.”
“Jules Mei…uh…”
“Lannister,” she supplies with an annoyed grunt.
“Jules Mei Lannister, will you do me the most helpful of honors by marrying me?” I hold back a smirk.
“Yes,” she answers, her voice a little breathy. I don’t miss the way her eyes flutter when I slide the cheap ring onto her finger.
Something passes between us. An unavoidable chemical reaction in the spot where our hands are touching.
Jules quickly snaps her hand away from me. “Okay, good. Now we need to lay out the ground rules.”
“You’re right. Absolutely. Ground rules.” Rising to my feet, I rush back to my desk, wake up my computer, and immediately start typing up a one-page agreement.
Together, Jules and I list out all the important clauses to our unique arrangement, putting my law degree to use for once.
1) Lincoln Raines and Jules Lannister are entering into a temporary marriage that shall last only until Jules gains access to her trust fund, and Lincoln closes his business deal. Said marriage is solely a mutually beneficial business deal, and both parties shall remember that.
2) Said marriage will not be a real marriage in the traditional sense. The parties acknowledge that no romantic feelings shall be involved.
I run out of ideas there, so I pause to read aloud what I have so far. “What’s missing?” I ask my wife-to-be.
“What about…affection?” Her eyes shift to my mouth.
My cock throbs in my pants. Stop!
“Like, we have to make this look legitimate, right?” She seems uncomfortable at the idea of having to kiss me again.
When her honey brown stare crashes into mine, electricity explodes all over. Shit. I’d almost forgotten the effect her eyes have on me.
I clear my throat and look away. “Uh. Yeah. Good point. We have to look legit when we’re out in public.”
“But in private, it would probably be for the best if we take hooking up off the table,” she hurries to add.
I nod a little too zealously. “Completely.”
I get back to typing.
3) Both parties acknowledge that public displays of affection may be warranted to achieve the primary goals of said marriage.
4) However, the parties shall refrain from engaging in any form of physical intimacy behind closed doors.
That last part is painful to add.
My stare meets Jules’s again. “Anything else?”
“Money. Our money stays separate,” she says. “I don’t want you paying for me.”
I shrug a shoulder. “If money needs to be spent, I’ll spend it. I don’t want your money, Jules.”
Her nostrils flare. “And I don’t want yours.”
“So we’re on the same page then.” I add that in to the contract.
She watches intently as I print out two copies of our marriage agreement. I pluck my nicest pen out of its case, the one I usually reserve for big important deals. I sign my name on the bottom of both copies, and then I hand over my pen with a flourish.
“I feel like I’m signing my life away,” she mumbles, but she takes the pen and scribbles her name anyway.
“For better or for worse,” I say with a smirk.
Jules’s eyes flick up to mine, hard and determined. “For better or for better,” she says firmly.
I snort a laugh. “Fine by me. For better or for better.”
I’m only in this for the sake of finalizing my business deal. Nothing else matters as far as I’m concerned.
After Jules signs both documents, she slides one back across the desk to me.
We sit there in silence for several long moments.
She fumbles with the top corner of her own copy, mindlessly wrinkling the sheet of paper. “Okay. Well. Now, what’s the next step?” she asks, sounding unsure of herself.
I scratch at my stubbled jaw. “Um, well. I think we need to start telling people we’re getting married.”