Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Not recently, anyway.
“You do know I can’t pay you.” Her eyes darkened further. They were the closest thing to purple I’d seen on a human, and I fought the urge to drag her to the window, to natural sunlight, and take a picture of them to see what they’d look like behind my lens.
“I don’t need your money.”
She curved an eyebrow, giving me a slow once-over. Daphne was unapologetically money oriented, which was a huge turnoff. At least there was no risk for us to truly get along. “I do beg to differ.”
“Look, Poppins, you wanna get hitched or not?”
“Not,” she answered decisively and then, after a beat, rolled her eyes. “But I’m afraid I must. First, I want you to tell me what made you change your mind.”
She wasn’t going to let it go, and I wasn’t in the mood to do this song and dance for the next couple of hours. Plus, I needed to get out of her office. It smelled like a candle shop.
“If you must know, I need a fiancée as an excuse to keep me in New York for a while. Work stuff.”
“Oh, you have a job. Marvelous.” She seemed surprised. “What do you do?”
“I’m a photographer for Discovery magazine.”
She popped one eyebrow. Clearly, the answer she’d expected was trafficking small children and deadly drugs across the border. “And having a wife would help you, how?”
“My boss won’t be able to spring an eight-month stint in deep Alaska on me. Apparently, it’s an assignment fit for a single person without responsibilities. I need a responsibility. Some baggage. That’s where you come into the picture.”
She stared at me with the enthusiasm of an inmate on death row. “I’ve always wanted to be someone’s burden.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I’m sure you already are.”
Shaking her head, she groaned. “So how do you see this working?”
Her hostility was low-key turning me on. I’d never met someone so immune to my charms, to my looks; this woman honestly only cared about high fashion and men with deep wallets. If only she knew she was standing in front of a man who was worth more than this entire block and its retailers combined.
“By setting expectations and some ground rules.” I opened my arms wide.
“Rules.” She tapped her chin, frowning. “I do enjoy rules.”
“Shocking.”
“You’re quite rude, you know.”
“You called me a loser,” I reminded her.
“How else would you describe a man who conducts an affair with a married woman?”
“Horny,” I replied flatly, raising my palms in the air. “Guilty as charged, by the way.”
“Unbelievable.” She tipped her head back, closing her eyes. “Your rules. Start listing them, please.”
“First—no catching feelings. I’m terrible husband material. I’m not a bad guy. But I’m not a faithful one either. I can barely stay in a committed relationship with my inner organs, let alone another human. And there’s definitely no reliable bones in my body. If we get married, I need you to remember it’s all for show. I’ll be free to engage in extracurricular activities with other people and travel as I please.”
She stared at me with an odd look on her face before letting out a raspy, sexy laugh.
“Dear God, you’re serious.” She cupped her mouth. “Rest assured, Mr. Bates, I’m in no danger of ever becoming infatuated with you.”
This woman was not great for my ego. The amount of humble pie she shoved into my mouth was making me nauseous.
“Remind me why I gross you out so badly?” I was a glutton for punishment. Maybe it was time to try BDSM. I bet this woman would love to smack me around if I asked her.
“Well, for one thing, I’m rather involved with someone else. Before you ask—marrying him is not an option. Secondly, even if he wasn’t in the picture . . .” She trailed off, squaring her shoulders. “No offense, but you’re not my type. I like ambitious, driven, smartly dressed men with impeccable manners and noble pedigrees.”
“You mean you want to marry a rich asshole,” I translated, stroking my chin. “You know, Daphne, I think you might be my favorite feminist.”
She crossed her arms, her glare deepening. “I’m not going to defend my morals to you.”
“Thank fuck.” I stacked my ankles over her desk and sit back. “I find morals too boring and constrictive to preserve.”
Another long-suffering sigh escaped her. “Anything else?”
“Yeah.” There wasn’t, but I needed to pretend I’d given this more thought than a subway ride. “Don’t ask me for a penny. I have none.”
“Terms and conditions accepted,” she said. “Now my turn.”
“Hit me with it.”
“You must cosign my petition for a visa and attend our appointments and interviews with the US Department of State. Make sure we’re in compliance with everything they need. I know quite a few people who’ve done that.”
Easy-peasy. Worst that could happen if we got caught would be to pay a penalty and get some community service, with her being deported. The world was too full of actual criminals to lock the two of us up.