“Why don’t I give you a little more background?”
She nodded, so I continued. “When my grandfather passes, I must be married—and the marriage has to appear genuine. Should our arrangement ever be challenged, the courts would look at things like living arrangements, trips together and any gifts exchanged. So yes, we have to live in the same place, but that doesn’t mean our lives have to change.” I took a long sip of my drink. “My lawyer says that the more questions we can head off at the beginning the better. He’s suggested a public wedding in England—no elopement. We don’t have to make a huge affair of it, but friends and family should go. If we fly over a week ahead of time, that will give people enough time to get to know you—and buy into us.”
“You’ve thought about this,” she said, nodding slowly.
“My grandfather’s health is deteriorating, when he dies—” I swallowed hard against the thought of a world without my grandfather in it. “I could lose everything I’ve worked for.”
“So could I,” she said.
“Exactly why this works for both of us.” This was business, not a favor. We would both be saving our business by doing this.
“I’m not sure a week with your family, faking our relationship, would be so easy,” she said, her finger tapping against her cocktail glass. “I’m a terrible liar—people are bound to see right through me.”
“You’re American.” I shook my head with a laugh. “We can blame a lot on that.” I grinned and she rolled her eyes.
“Oh my God. Are we really thinking about doing this?” she asked, her eyes betraying her nerves.
“I really hope so.”
She ran her finger down her glass, collecting the condensation on her fingertip. “How long? I don’t think you said.”
“Three months—”
“Okay.” She nodded her head.
“Three months minimum after my grandfather dies.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Is that likely to happen . . . How soon—God, I’m sorry, I don’t know how to ask.”
I swallowed, while trying to build an imaginary wall in front of thoughts of my grandfather’s death. But she was right to ask. “Well, he’s eighty-two. Divorce proceedings can’t be finalized for three months after . . .”
“He could live another twenty years! There’s no way I’m staying married to you for decades—it’s just not worth it.”
“Gee, thanks,” I replied.
She closed her purse as if she were preparing to leave. “You can’t seriously expect me just to go along with that.”
Shit, I could see how a decade of an arranged marriage might be unpalatable. I’d not thought much beyond actually finding a wife. No one would accept an open-ended offer. No one except Aurora.
“Five years,” I blurted as she pulled her purse onto the table and stared at me. “Five years and if he hasn’t—if the estate hasn’t passed to me by then, we can either renegotiate, or I’ll find someone else.”
“Five years is a long time, Ryder. Too long.”
This was awful, negotiating over the date of someone’s death. “Three years. That’s my final offer.” She’d thought more carefully about the implications of this deal, which was good, as long as she said yes. “We move in together here in New York and you travel with me when I go to England.”
“I have always wanted to go to England,” she said, sliding her purse back beside her. My breathing slowed. “What did you say about dating?” she asked.
“I can’t take any risks that my cousin could then use against me,” I said, hoping it wouldn’t be a deal breaker.
“So no dating.” She nodded slowly as if she were trying to picture her future. “Okay, maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. I’m terrible at it anyway.”
That couldn’t possibly be true, but I wasn’t going to argue.
“But if I’m going to be celibate, so are you,” she said. “I don’t want to find out you’ve got sexist double standards.”
Wait . . . No fucking. For three years?
But what choice did I have?
That sounded like a yes to me. “Okay,” I replied before I could overthink it. I could go without for a few years if it saved my company. “I’ll write it into the contract.” And get to know my right hand, hell, maybe even my left, really, really well.
“Okay. When do you want to do this?”
I clenched my fists, trying not to give a high five. I cleared my throat and focused. “You mean when do we sign the contract? Or when do we get married?”
“All of it. But I want my lawyers to look things over. I want you to replace the loans by the end of next week and have it written in that your loans transfer to me automatically at the end of three years or on our divorce, whichever is the earlier.” She was leaning forward, her hands placed flat on the table. She meant business. But nothing she was suggesting was unreasonable. “And, I get to pick the ring, right?” She paused before she added, with a huge grin, “I’m a sucker for jewelry.”
“Sure.” Like I gave a shit about the ring.
“If I have to wear it, I don’t want it to be ugly. And of course, we can sell it at the end.”
“You can keep the ring, Scarlett.” I’d be a complete dick if I made her give me back the ring after what she would be giving up and giving me.
Eleven
Ryder
The sun glinted off the aircraft’s fuselage as we got to the top of the steps. I hoped the weather would be as nice when we arrived in London.
“But you don’t own it?” Scarlett asked as she glanced around the plane.
“No, it’s too much responsibility—and a little too flash.”
She laughed. “So it’s too flashy to own a private plane, but not too flashy to ride in one every time you fly?”
“It’s all relative,” I replied.
She slid into a cream-leather seat I usually preferred, so I sat across the table from her.
“You don’t have to entertain me,” she said. “It’s a long flight.”
“I know. This is where I normally sit. Well actually, I mostly sit there,” I said, nodding at her chair. “But I’m just as good with this seat. And anyway, we need to talk.”
She opened her purse and began to pull out all sorts of things—her phone, a tablet, a cosmetics bag, tissue and headphones. Jesus, who was she? Mary Poppins? “You want one?” she asked, catching me staring at the tin of mints she’d just set down.
I shook my head.
“Okay. What do you want to talk about?” she asked, looking past me toward the flight deck.
“Nothing specific. But as you’re going to be meeting all my friends and family in the days ahead of the wedding, we need to get to know each other. Get our story straight.”
She groaned and my cock twitched. “I told you, I’m a terrible liar.”
“Then we’ll stick as close to the truth as we can. What we don’t want is Frederick challenging the legitimacy of our relationship in the courts.”
“Okay, well, you tell me what to say and I’ll say it.”