by Holly Jaymes
I finished my part of the CTS project the Friday before Thanksgiving. Technically, my job assignment took me through December, and I was still a resource for the team, so I would keep working. Cal had been talking to me about another project he thought I’d be good on, but I could see he was reluctant to commit to it since my immigration status was precarious.
The Monday before Thanksgiving was my interview date with Mr. Bigalow. Will’s would be Tuesday. We’d purposefully tried not to worry about it, although we did spend a few hours over the weekend when we weren’t at his mom’s house for dinner going over the sample questions for the Stokes interview.
Who pays the bills? Will does.
Who does the chores? We both do.
Who showers first? We shower together.
When was the last time you were intimate? Ten minutes ago.
I woke the Monday morning of my interview with Will’s hot naked body over mine.
“Is this part of my interview prep?” I looped my arms around his neck, and hooked my legs around his hips.
He sucked on my nipple. “If he asks when was the last time you made love, you can say …” He looked at the alarm clock next to the bed. “Six eighteen this morning.”
“It’s so nice of you to study with me.”
“I aim to please.”
And boy, did he ever. The woman in love inside me wanted to believe he felt the same about me, but neither of us had said the “L” word. I wanted to. So many times, I’d nearly blurted out my devotion to him, but it seemed foolish to open ourselves up to such emotions when at any time Mr. Bigalow could be putting me on a plane to Canada. So, the words stayed inside me. Instead, I tried to show him with my touch and my kiss.
My interview wasn’t until after lunch, so I went into the office to help the team finish up on the contract. It was so satisfying to have spent a year on something that started out as an idea, and now, was going through testing and debugging, nearly ready to be released to the government.
I was getting a mid-morning coffee from the staff lounge when Cal joined me.
“Ready for your interview today?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I said pouring a little creamer in my coffee.
“How’s Will holding up?” He poured himself a mug of the newly made hot brew.
“He’s fine.”
“So, the loss of contracts hasn’t hurt business? I guess I heard he was targeting non-government contracts now.”
“What?” I had no idea what he was talking about. “You mean having to withdraw from this project?”
“That, and he’s been passed over for some government contracts. I heard there were some concerns about existing contracts he has as well.”
Why hadn’t Will told me this? “He’s not worried.” I had no idea if he was worried or not. The fact that he hadn’t told me what was going made me second guess how close I thought we were. Or maybe he was protecting me.
“No doubt he’ll bounce back. He’ll probably still make the Forbes list.”
Bounce back? How significant was the impact of losing this work on his business?
“Besides, it keeps you fresh and creative when you have to keep your company from taking a nosedive.”
Oh my God. I mustered a smile and told Cal I had some things to check before I left for my interview.
“Good luck today, Addy. I’d like to keep you on here, if you can manage it.”
When I returned to my desk, I called Will’s office.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Sloane, he’s in a meeting with a potential client. If it’s an emergency, I have permission to interrupt.” His efficient secretary informed me. I had the feeling she wanted me to interrupt him. I think she liked the idea that Will had a wife. She probably secretly read romance novels as well.
“It’s not an emergency,” I said. I was going to hang up, but then decided that no one would know better about Will’s business health than his secretary. “How is he doing? Is he having any problems because of his marrying me?”
There was a pause. “I don’t feel I can share Mr. Sloane’s business —”
“Of course not. You’re very loyal.”
“I will say that if anyone can turn things around, it’s him.”
I closed my eyes as guilt washed through me. The more I poked and prodded those around him about his business, the worse Will’s situation sounded. Why hadn’t he said anything to me? I suspected he knew I’d feel bad, so he kept it from me. But it also highlighted that we weren’t as in sync as I thought. Married people shared everything, right? Better or for worse, and all that.
“Thank you.”
“You have your interview today. I know you’ll do fine. The two of you are a wonderful couple.”
From her mouth to God’s ears.
As I drove to the immigration office, my guilt and worry grew. I didn’t want Will to have to turn things around in his business. He shouldn’t be losing so much that he’d have to work to recover his losses. How much of this was hurting his reputation?
He’d done so much for me. Risked so much. It was my turn to sacrifice for him. When I parked, I pulled out a piece of paper from the notepad in my bag, writing a note and other important details. I left it on the passenger seat of the car. I took my bag that had all my immigration documents and my passport with me into the building.
Mr. Bigalow took me back to an interview room. It was probably set up to record and video tape, so everything I said could be used against me. Or maybe, if I was lucky, it would prove my love for Will, and it would be the key to letting me stay.
“Would you like some water before we start?” he asked.
“Yes, please.” My throat was dry and my heart was heavy.
“Are you okay, Mrs. Sloane?” he asked as he set the water in front of me. “Or is the honeymoon over?”
I stared at him. He was a government worker. Did he have something to do with Will’s business problems? “Did you set out to hurt my husband?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” He sat across from me with his notepad.
“Did you tell other government agencies to stay away from him?”
“Mr. Sloane’s work requires regular clearance checks. It’s probable that this investigation came up. However, I’m not out to get him, if that’s what you’re inferring.”
I took a sip of water.
“Of course, if this investigation concluded, that notice would be removed and he’d likely have no trouble.”
There it was. I could end all Will’s business troubles if the investigation could conclude. “Isn’t that why I’m here?”
“The process will continue after today. I’m still talking to others around you, I have to interview your husband, and then … well, as you know, there’s a lot of paperwork and slow moving parts in a bureaucracy. It could be another six months, maybe more.”
“What? Six months!” My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. I’d known this process would take some time, but I realized that I’d hoped it would conclude around the time my visa would expire. This year, at least. But six months? That was too long for Will’s business to continue to suffer.
He shrugged. “Is the marriage not working out?”
“It’s perfect,” I said looking down. Our marriage was beautiful and magical, but I couldn’t let Will go months and months losing business. There was only one solution. I had to follow through on what I’d set out to do when I walked in today. I had to tell the truth. I looked up at Mr. Bigalow. “If I go back to Canada, will that remove the alert on Will’s business?”
He sat back and studied me. “I thought you wanted a green card.”
“I do, but not at my husband’s expense. What do I have to do to help him?”
“You could tell me the truth about your marriage.” He was trying to act nonchalant, but I saw the gleam in his eyes that he thought he was going to have a Perry Mason moment.
I felt numb as I sat in the hard chair staring at the man who seemed hellb
ent to ruin my life. “I need your word, in writing, that you’ll leave Will out of this. That you’ll make it so he can run his business as he did before he married me.”
“I can’t dictate what happens to Mr. Sloane. But I will do what I can.”
I didn’t have much choice but to hope I could trust him. Not saying anything meant Will’s business would continue to suffer.
He sat forward, his pen ready to write on his notepad. “So, Mrs. Sloane, are you going to tell me that you got married for the purpose of getting a green card?”
“No.”
His eyes narrowed.
“I’m telling you that I stayed married to get my green card.”
Book 4: Chapter 30—The Fight of My Life
The Fight of My Life
Will
I left the meeting this morning feeling pretty good about getting the growing e-commerce’s online security contract. As much as I liked government contracts for their set duration and stability, working in the business sector had its appeal too. One was being able to charge more than I might have for the government work. Businesses tended to have more money to spend.
“Mr. Sloane, your wife called,” my secretary said as I made my way to my office.
I smiled, because thinking of Adalyn always made me smile. But then I remembered that her interview was today. I’d wanted to go with her, but she insisted that I didn’t need to. It was just another hoop we had to jump through, she said. She’d seemed so confident that the decision would go our way. I hoped to hell she was right. In the meantime, I needed to make sure I had new business coming in to replace what I was losing.
My interview was tomorrow, and while a part of me didn’t worry because I loved her and it seemed impossible, my own country would tear the woman I loved from my arms; I didn’t have any clue how much longer this process would last. The longer it went on, the more potential issue I’d have with the business.
One thing I had decided was that if everything went right for us, I’d tell her the truth about how I felt. I was afraid I’d jinx things if I told her I loved her and wanted to be with her now. Just my luck, we’d confess our love and she’d be deported. So I was biding my time. Waiting for Mr. Bigalow to recognize that what Adalyn and I had was true and real.
Hunter had done some research on Bigalow for me, but hadn’t found anything that would help me get him off our backs. Bigalow was a zealot in his work, but Hunter hadn’t found anything to suggest he was doing some illegal or unethical.
“Is she okay?” I asked my secretary.
“She sounded fine. She did ask about your business. I didn’t tell her anything, except that you’d be fine.”
My eyes narrowed. “What do you mean she asked about my business. Was there something specific?”
“She seemed to be asking about the recent setbacks you were having. I told her not to worry.” She gave me a satisfied smile, as if she felt she’d alleviated Adalyn’s concerns.
I knew better. I put my hands on my hips and tried to figure out what Adalyn might do with that information. I hadn’t said anything to her regarding my business, except about the project she’d been working on, because I didn’t want her to worry or feel at fault. Despite my secretary’s assumption that she’d relieved Adalyn’s concerns, I suspected the opposite was true. God only knew what she’d do with that information.
I checked my watch. She would have just arrived at the immigration office. I’d give her until three to contact me before I panicked that she’d done something stupid.
I texted her to let me know when she was done, and then went to work, my fingers crossed that she did well in her interview. At three, I started to get antsy. At three thirty, I called immigration. It took several minutes to get to the right department, but finally I was on hold for Bigalow.
“Mr. Sloane.”
“Where’s my wife?” I winced at the angry tone in my voice. I didn’t want to agitate the man.
“Adalyn Beaumont is being processed for voluntary departure.”
“What?” Fuck, what happened?
“She’s confessed, but agreed to leave on her own accord. I’ve recommended that the case of marriage fraud on you be dropped —”
“My marriage isn’t a fraud.” Fuck. “I’m coming down there. I want to see her.”
“Mr. Sloane —”
“I’m coming. You can’t stop me from seeing her.” God, I hoped that was true. I hit the button to end the call and went flying out of my office. It was the Monday before Thanksgiving, which meant traffic would probably be worse. Just my luck I’d get there and the place would be closed.
“What did you do, Adalyn?” I drove like a maniac, and God must have been on my side that I didn’t get pulled over or cause an accident.
I parked in a place that may or may not have been legal parking, but at that point, I didn’t give a shit if my car was towed.
I barged into the immigration building. “Where’s my wife?” I demanded as I tried to get past the gatekeeper to Mr. Bigalow.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“Fuck an appointment, he’s deporting my wife.”
“Mr. Sloane.” Ms. Slater appeared from a door to the right of me that I knew, from before, went back to their offices.
“Where’s my wife?” I demanded from her.
“Follow me.”
God, please don’t let her be on a plane home.
She showed me to an interview room. “Wait here while I get Mr. Bigalow.”
“My wife, is she okay? Where is she?” Why wouldn’t anyone tell me?
“She’s fine. Just wait here.”
I sat and then stood because I couldn’t sit. I raked my hands through my hair, wondering what the hell I was going to do if Adalyn was being forced to leave. What the hell had she told them?
The door opened, and Ms. Slater came in with Mr. Bigalow behind her.
“Where’s my wife?” It was all I could not to grab his lapels and shove him against the wall.
“She’s fine, Mr. Sloane. Please sit and I’ll discuss the voluntary departure process,” he said.
I looked at the both of them. “Voluntary departure?”
“It’s where she agrees to leave on her own accord.”
“Why would she do that?” I asked as I sank into the chair. Except I knew why. If she thought I was losing business, she’d do just this. Hadn’t she already talked about leaving because she didn’t want me to lose my company?
I couldn’t decide if I was angry at her for not trusting me. Over the last week, we’d been so together. Like a real couple. A real marriage. Hadn’t she felt that? Didn’t she know I loved her?
No, I chastised myself. She didn’t know, because I’d been too much a coward to tell her. Fuck, this was my fault. I didn’t tell her I wanted to be with her, and now she was lost to me.
“Mrs. Sloane admitted that you married for her to get a green card. You’re lucky we’re not charging you,” Bigalow said, sitting across from me with a large file.
I looked down as I tried to get my brain to work faster. There had to be a way out of this. I looked up at him as something finally popped. “No. That’s a lie.”
He quirked a brow, while Ms. Slater, sitting next to him cocked her head with interest.
“You’re saying your wife lied?” he asked.
“She wouldn’t have said that, because it’s not true,” I said, feeling such desperation for them to see how real Adalyn and I were. They were my only access to her. To having happiness. If I didn’t convince them to let her stay, I didn’t know what I’d do.
“It’s recorded —”
“What do you mean?” Ms. Slater interrupted Bigalow to ask me.
“We didn’t get married for her to get a green card. We stayed married for her green card.” Fuck, was I making this worse?
“What’s the difference?” Mr. Bigalow said.
I slammed my hand on the table, making them both jump. “I love her. Isn’t that what this
is about? Where, in all your papers and reports, do you measure love? Who cares how we started? You can’t deport the love of my life.”
“We’re not deporting —”
“Quiet, Dave,” Ms. Slater said. She was the key, I decided. If I could get to her, maybe Adalyn and I had a chance.
“Unfortunately, Mr. Sloane, love isn’t a factor in our decision.”
“What? That’s bullshit. You’re looking for whether or not we have a real marriage. I’m telling you that I love her and want to spend my life with her. How is that not relevant?”
“Intention is what we look at. Did you and Adalyn Beaumont marry to get her a green card?” Bigalow said. His voice was even and calm, I was sure from years of experience, but I could see a gleam in his eye that he was enjoying this. Zealot, was what Mitch had said. I wondered if he was a sadist, too. Did he enjoy ruining people’s lives? Taking away their dreams?
“No. I told you. We didn’t. And I don’t care what you say, she didn’t admit to that either.” Jesus, had she gone with the plan she had about saying she duped me? “I love her. I’ve loved her practically since the moment I met her, three years ago.”
“Why would she be voluntarily leaving if she didn’t do anything wrong?” Ms. Slater asked.
“Because she thinks if she leaves, she’ll save my business.” I glared at Bigalow. “Funny how Adalyn and I were here two weeks ago, and all of a sudden my government contracts started drying up.”
“Are you accusing me of something, Mr. Sloane?” Bigalow said, his voice tilting toward annoyance.
“It’s not unreasonable for agencies to check your clearances and find the note about your investigation,” Ms. Slater said.
