Chapter Six #2
“Maybe. You think Tarek set it up? It was a huge blindside and very public, at the last event before the finals.”
“Using a baby to hurt someone?” he asked. “That’s not right. And where’d he get the kid?”
Anger simmered in her stomach. She knew that not everyone treated children like they were treasures.
“Cam was planning to buy land in Montana. He wanted a ranch for the family he was planning to have, the legacy he wanted to build. I couldn’t imagine him out of the city.
I was the one who’d head into the mountains every chance I got.
But he kept talking about ‘we’ like he thought I should join him.
Maybe he was trying to push me to head to Montana and see if I could discover any blood family. ”
*
He watched her sip her latte like she was truly enjoying it. She scrolled through a few more videos, totally engaged.
The idea came out of nowhere. It was madness. He never operated from impulse. Not ever. What was this madness thinking he should enlist Ayana to help him create a legacy for Cam? Help him approach his maybe family?
Cam would grin his do-it-for-the-plot grin. But setting out for Montana, a wealthy, nonlocal, far from a cowboy man alone would stand out. Make people suspicious. And with his lack of the social niceties, he’d hardly make any inroads. Ayana had charm to spare. But did he want to do this?
Cam had been the easy one in society. Up for adventure.
Like Ayana.
But why would she consent to his mad idea? She’d repeatedly rejected the bride concept. What did he have to offer?
He eyed her over the rim of the cup he’d yet to drink from.
She said she had no job to return to. No apartment.
Her roommate off with a new man to a new city.
She was alone. Likely no income. Surely, someone who worked river cruises didn’t have a large financial cushion. Telford could solve those problems.
She could think of a marriage contract with him as a job.
He’d think that too. It would be an adventure for her, much like Cam would enter the spirit of the deal.
The weekend could serve as an interview.
Already he was impressed—her looks, of course, they appealed.
But he liked how quick her brain was. She problem-solved and dealt with the unexpected with aplomb—probably her years in food service and hospitality.
“You’re planning to stay for the weekend, right?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “You promised me dinner.”
“What if I promised more?”
She pushed her phone to the side, her expression schooled, but her stunning eyes were alive with curiosity.
“You said you’re between jobs,” he began cautiously—not really wanting to be shot down before he could articulate his case. “Could you extend that time with a financial incentive?”
“Depends on the legality and amount of the incentive.”
She continued to surprise him with her honesty.
“I’d like to open a negotiation.” He pulled his iPad closer and opened a notes file.
“You have my attention.” She sipped her latte and then placed it on the coffee table and straightened her posture. “Is this like a job interview—should I tell you a few pertinent things about myself and then you make your case?”
“To be upfront, sex is optional.”
“Now that’s an opening.” Her nose crinkled, and her smile widened. “Now I’m fully intrigued,” she murmured under her breath. “But before we go too far, I had an … unconventional childhood. I ran. Escaped. I will never go back so if publicity is a huge factor, I’m not on board.”
Now he was intrigued. And worried for her as his protective instincts fired to life.
“Cam was the social front of our business. I circled in the background. I like it there.”
Maybe he should have suggested something stronger than coffee if they were playing two truths and a lie and possibly about to discuss their childhoods.
“I’ve supported myself since I ran. I don’t want to be under anyone’s control.
I’ve BSed my way into most of my jobs, but no one can outwork me.
No one. I’m smart. A quick study and honest to the point that when I have been fired, it’s because I won’t cheat, and I won’t have sex with a man just because he has money or power or flexes on me by holding my job hostage. ”
She faced him, steady, defiant. He admired her strength and confidence, and the idea that had sounded crazy, even as it sprouted in his brain, now seemed solid.
He knew men could be jerks, wealthy and poor ones.
He winced thinking about the gauntlet she’d faced as a young woman alone in the world.
And her choice of the verb ran settled hard in his gut.
“Are you in danger?” That was important to know.
“No.” She broke eye contact. “That might be a lie. Eight years is a long time, and I’m seen as damaged goods.”
“Anyone thinking that is a clueless idiot.”
She didn’t relax. Her chin tilted up in challenge. “So, what are you looking for?”
“You.”
“Huh?” That threw her, pleasing him. She didn’t look like an easy mark to confuse.
“You’re smart. Savvy. Stick up for yourself. Confident. Think on your feet. Innately kind.”
She blinked at his list.
“How are you at pretense? Improv?”
“Prefer to play it straight, but with nearly eight years in the service industry, I know how to work it. Get the job done. Keep people happy. To a point. I’m not a pushover.”
“I don’t want a pushover. I want a wife.”
*
“What? No!” She popped up off the couch and paced away to the window and stared out. Her body shuddered at the thought. “I’m never becoming anyone’s possession. Never will I give up my agency to become whatever a man wants me to be.”
Silence greeted her outburst.
She dragged in a deep breath. “Pull it together,” she whispered under her breath.
Maybe she should cut her losses. Run. She looked toward the door. He wouldn’t chase her. Why would he? He had nothing invested. Yet. But why a wife? Maybe she should get more information. She liked him. She needed a job. Surely, he didn’t really want a wife—for what possible reason?
“We have a different view of marriage,” he said quietly after several long moments. “I opened with a negotiation. Much like an improv exercise or a dance. I made my opening play. You parry.”
“You’re mixing metaphors.”
“What would it take for a woman like you to marry a man like me?”
“A woman like me?” she echoed.
She was the last woman who’d marry. Marriage was a nightmare. She’d barely escaped alive. Alissa hadn’t.
“You’re rich. Beautiful. We’ve just met. Why would you want to marry a stranger?”
“Yes, that is a good line of questioning to pursue. Why would I—a loner, a man who’s lost his best friend, mentor, and business partner a week ago—want a wife?”
“Temporary insanity. Grief?” she posited.
He didn’t respond, but he eyed her steadily, and her stupid curiosity kicked in.
“Can you think of any reasons why I would find you an ideal candidate at this time?”
“Sexual attraction. That sparked at the beginning,” she said. “If your bio dad hadn’t—” Oh.
She broke off. Did he have something to do with it? Why? Because even though he’d taken her to lunch at her suggestion, she was pretty sure when she’d barged into his penthouse suite that he was not thinking of keeping Cam’s appointment with his mail-order bride.
He inclined his head toward her, acknowledging the truth.
“I’m an unknown to everyone in your life.
I’ve lived mostly off grid for a reason so the only social media I have is where I advertise my small online business, but my name or pictures don’t appear on them.
” She was warming up to the assignment. “I’m not desperate, but I am hungry for work.
I’m between jobs and places to live so I’m free to make a change.
I’m used to dealing with a wide variety of people from very different walks of life.
I’m honest, proud, and fiercely independent so I wouldn’t steal or try to take you for a financial ride. ”
His smile nearly knocked her sideways, and she realized he was a better negotiator than she’d imagined, Cam or no Cam. He was having her do all the talking.
“But why do you want a wife?” She asked, curiosity taking over.
“I didn’t,” he said. “I don’t.”
She appreciated the honesty. And waited.
“But now I’m thinking of the advantages for us both.”
Ayana hesitated—not wanting to let fear rule her. Telford was cool headed. Smart.
“Terms,” she continued, liking the feeling of power and the way he watched her, like he admired her, wanted her.
She crossed the room, hiked herself up on the island, so she was a little bit higher than he was, and her position was unconventional, to hopefully distract him off whatever game he was running.
“First. Does the marriage have to be real?” Why would it need to be?
“Yes. Practical. Life leaves a digital trail. No need to get caught in lies. Plus, safer for us both. I intend to pay you for your … role … your time as my wife. The contract will protect you. Additionally, there will be a prenup to protect what Cam and I built.”
“I want a time limit.”
“A year.”
“Six months.”
“I might require more time.”
“To do what?” she demanded, feeling energized by the back-and-forth.
With most jobs there’d been a posting, and she’d shown up and they asked all the questions and made the demands.
This handed her some power. “Six months. A year. Those are both a long time.”
“Do you enter every job interview with one foot out the door.”
She returned for her coffee and sat down again, picked up her cup, she palmed it for the warmth and to keep her fingers from trembling. Was she really considering this?
“I’ve had to,” she said, wanting to keep her claim of honesty real. She lied only to protect herself. “But my work with the cruise ship was my longest position though I moved around ships, routes, positions. Three years, so I can stick if I want to.”
“Six months with an addendum that we will renew for a second six months if both parties are agreeable, and there will be a bonus for you to re-sign.”
“You might want out.”
“I won’t.”