A Tangled Web

by A. Claire Everward

  He glanced at his watch. Robert was a no show. He’d called, said he had something to do and that he would update Ian later. Ian didn’t need him for this meeting, now that the original strategy for InSyn was back on, but since they were both due to head back to San Francisco in just a few hours, he wanted everything that might necessitate their presence here in Denver to be sorted out before that. He had no patience for any more delays.

  At least it was the weekend and InSyn was nearly empty. He hoped this meant that woman wasn’t somewhere in the basement two stories below him.

  She was the last person in the world he wanted to see.

  The building was one of those bleak concrete and metal affairs built when someone still thought impressing meant trying to intimidate. Tess stood on the sidewalk and looked up at it, she had no idea for how long, then lowered her gaze to the simple glass door set in the somber exterior. She wasn’t in a hurry to go inside, but then the idea of staying out here didn’t appeal to her, either. Denver’s bustling Central Business District felt to her far too crowded.

  She took a deep breath, walked up to the door, pulled it open resolutely and walked in. Inside, the building had been renovated recently enough to be bright and almost cheery. Almost, but not quite, but then again maybe that had more to do with her state of mind than with anything else.

  There was no one in the lobby, and she went ahead and took the elevator up to the seventh floor as the attorney had instructed. The entire floor was occupied by the law firm of Parker and Williams. She breathed in again, bracing herself, and walked on the colorful checkered tiles toward the receptionist’s desk, also empty.

  “Ms. Andrews?”

  She turned around to see a man coming to stand a distance from her. He was thin, delicate almost, and the same height as her. His face was longish, clean-shaven, his blond hair slicked back, every strand in place. There was a smile on his face, a friendly expression, but he was clearly scrutinizing her. Which was only fair, she supposed, since she was scrutinizing him, too.

  There was nothing threatening about him, in fact he seemed amiable enough. But not for a moment did she forget that this man was an attorney. And a high level one, quite obviously. His three-piece suit was meticulously pressed, custom-tailored, and very expensive. Too expensive for the offices they were in, that much was certain. This man didn’t belong here. Not in this building, and not, she thought, in this city.

  He approached her with a measured step, extending a well-manicured hand. His shake was light and formal.

  “Thank you for meeting me, and at such a short notice,” he said and led her to a large office at the end of a wide corridor. The name on the door was that of Gerald A. Parker, Senior Partner. The photos along the corridor walls were enough to show her that this man was not him.

  She declined his offer of a refreshment and waited, standing, facing him. Careful. She had long ago learned to be careful.

  “May I close the door?” he surprised her by asking. “Several of this firm’s attorneys are here, in their offices, and I would like to have privacy for this conversation, if that is all right with you.”

  She nodded. He closed the door and came to sit not behind the desk, but on one of the chairs beside a long, rectangular table that stood not far from it. The chair farthest from the door and from her.

  Making sure she wouldn’t feel threatened, she thought. This man wanted her to listen, and to focus on what he was saying, not on anything else. And he was aware that for her he was nothing but a stranger who had called unexpectedly on a Saturday morning, so far giving her nothing in return for the trust he had asked of her.

  Now she was curious.

  She took a seat opposite his, the closest one to the door, putting the table between them.

  He nodded. “I’ve asked a lot of you. And yet I have two more things to ask.”

  She waited.

  “First, I would like you to hear me out before I tell you who I am.” He gestured to indicate the office around him. “You’ve quite obviously noticed that this is not my office and have guessed that I don’t work in this law firm, although I can tell you that Gerald Parker is a trusted colleague, which is why we are sitting in his offices on a Saturday.”

  She considered this. “And the second thing?”

  “I need you to promise me to keep this conversation between us. Regardless of its outcome.”

  She frowned. “Why not simply have me sign a non-disclosure agreement, then?”

  He wasn’t surprised at her familiarity with the option, considering her work. “This matter involves a great deal of trust. That trust has to begin somewhere,” he said evenly. It was, in fact, the most crucial element in their conversation.

  She contemplated this, and him. He found the eyes that held his disconcerting. Highly intelligent, calculating. Not unlike his client, he thought. And there was something else there, too, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

  Finally, she nodded once. “You have my word.”

  He was taken aback at her choice of words, and she saw this.

  “I apologize, it’s just that I don’t usually hear people say it quite that way. My client does, too,” he chose to tell her. “Which brings me to the crux of the matter. I have a proposal for you.”

  She waited, intrigued. She’d already understood that, contrary to her initial concern, this had nothing specifically to do with her, her work, her life. Her past. All that was left, then, was her curiosity.

  “As I said, I am an attorney. For one client. A very rich and powerful client.” He watched her. She watched him back. Good. Most people had some reaction to those words, usually fear or greed. Or both, in most cases. She had neither.

  He paused, not sure how to do this. It was, he realized, more complicated to put it forward than he had thought it would be. Both because of the nature of the proposal he was making to this woman, who was not quite the type he had thought he would be making it to, and because of the necessity to hide his client’s identity.

  He considered his words carefully, not wanting to point her in the right direction. In the past weeks alone his client’s name had been constantly on the gossipers’ lips, mentioned too many times for it to be missed. And as it was he had worried, before their meeting, that she might recognize him, and thus understand who he was representing in this matter. After all, he occasionally joined his client in business meetings, or at certain social functions, with his wife. And his photo appeared on Ian Blackwell Holdings’ website, since he was its general counsel. She would have seen him if she had in fact followed his client on the media, or, frankly, had simply looked deeper into the company that had bought InSyn. Apparently she hadn’t done either, which he found interesting.

  “Because of his status,” he proceeded to say, speaking slowly, “my client’s relationships with women are too often too closely watched. In addition, my client finds that at times it would be easier to have a woman by his side, to . . .” He struggled to find the words.

  “You’re having quite a bit of difficulty with this, aren’t you?”

  He started. Then he laughed. He hadn’t expected that. “It shows?”

  She nodded, a shadow of a smile on her face. “Just say it like it is. What’s the worst that can happen?”

  “Right,” he said. “Right. Here it is, then. My client wishes to marry a woman who will not be his wife in the . . . biblical sense of the word, if you will, but more like a business partner. Someone who will be present at the various social functions he is required to attend, with him or in his stead, someone who will, for all outward intents and purposes, be known as his wife, taking the . . . eligible bachelor title away.” He risked it, willing to bet that she had no idea who Cecilia Heart was.

  It was her turn to be taken aback, but she collected herself quickly. “A contract marriage. In the twenty-first century.”

  “The twenty-first century with its media and social media frenzy, the too readily, too immediately available information
that is all too often inaccurate, can pose quite a lot of difficulty for a man like my client. It has become very disruptive, if I do say so myself.”

  She tilted her head slightly, and Robert allowed himself a smile. The reality he was describing wasn’t familiar to her. Good. It seemed that this world, the world of gossip, of celebrities, of runaway impressions, did not appeal to her.

  “The outside world will not know that this is a business arrangement,” he continued. “It is quite easy to say that you two have been meeting in secret for a while.” Especially since she worked in one of Ian’s companies, although this was something Robert could not yet say. “If they believe it, fine, if they talk, then they will, but at least, whatever they think, he will still have a wife, and even nowadays that counts for something. Especially if the marriage lasts, and follows a set of careful guidelines, which I have already drawn in detail.”

  She wasn’t telling him he was crazy, nor was she running away. By now he found he wasn’t surprised. Whatever the outcome, this woman would hear him out as she had promised.

  “You would be married in a private civil ceremony. The media will talk about that, too, the absence of a big wedding, but they will talk no matter what my client does. I’ll make sure they blame their own prying behavior for this. You will move into my client’s home, where you will have your own room, your privacy, of course. At no point”—he emphasized, wanting her to understand, to be sure, wanted her to be the one to accept the proposal—“will you be required to be his wife in any way other than outwardly. In other words, he will not touch you.”

  She had understood that part from the outset, which was why she was still there.

  “However, the two of you will be putting up the facade of a married couple, so you will need to get to know each other. To learn to be comfortable around each other, at least to the required extent. I have therefore inserted a clause requiring the two of you to spend at least one meal a day together, when you are both in the city.” He was careful not to say which city. “I have also added another clause requiring my client to refer to you in your conversations as Mrs. . . . let’s say X, for the time being, and you will refer to him as Mr. X.”

  When she frowned, he added, “You are strangers who will need to prove to the outside world that you are far from it. This clause is meant to ensure that you get used to the new arrangement as quickly as possible. This simple form of address will remind you constantly of what you had both agreed to and will therefore reduce the risk of slip-ups during your appearances in the outside world.” He couldn’t tell her that he suspected she and his client would not be assuming the comfortably familiar use of first names anytime soon. “Outwardly, when speaking to others, you will refer to him as your husband, and he will refer to you as his wife. At least until we convince the outside world of the authenticity of the marriage.”

  “What about outward affection?”

  “My client is a private man. He doesn’t normally exhibit physical affection when he goes out with a woman. It would, I imagine, be accepted that he would adhere to the same privacy in his marriage.”

  “Good,” she said. That, no displayed affection in this deal of a marriage, was certainly acceptable to her. In fact, it would be a deal breaker if it weren’t so, and she said so now.

  He nodded. Interesting that this was her emphasis. He wondered about her, but the fact was that the more he sat here with her, spoke with her, saw her reactions, the more he liked her for his client’s wife.

  “You’ve thought this through.” She contemplated him.

  “Necessarily so. This is quite a complex matter.”

  “That’s an understatement,” she said.

  “Please understand, this idea was not arrived at lightly. And yes, it will be complex, you would understand why if you knew who my client is. Also, you should know it is intended to be a long-term arrangement. The contract will not set a term in order not to limit either of you, and if you absolutely do not get along or if anything else happens that would require it to be voided, this can be done. But obviously this is something my client wishes to avoid. The chosen wife would be expected to remain by his side for a significant term.”

  “The chosen wife.” Her brow furrowed. “Your client doesn’t know about me, does he?”

  “No more than you know about him.”

  “What kind of a man sends an attorney to choose his partner in marriage for him?”

  “But that’s just it. I am choosing a partner in marriage, a business partner.”

  “Still.” She considered this, not quite sure what to think. But then the entire situation was surreal. “To come to this.”

  He let her think about it for a while. Digest it. “This won’t be easy for whoever accepts this proposal, either, not only for my client, please don’t think either I or my client are overlooking this fact,” he finally said. “For you specifically it would mean leaving your job and your home, and moving to a strange city to live a strange life in a strange house with a stranger.”

  “Well put,” she said, and didn’t tell him that the first three she’d been planning to do anyway, and, in any case, she had never called this place home. There wasn’t, for her, any place she could call home, hadn’t been for too long for her to remember what it was like for it to be any other way.

  “My client acknowledges this,” he continued. “He wishes to provide you with at least some sort of a safety net, other than the contract, of course. Something that would be yours without any precondition, and that you can use as you wish if you ever feel the need to. For this reason, he has instructed me to open, when the time comes, a bank account in your name only, with a substantial sum that would make you quite comfortable. It would be yours to do with as you please, no questions asked. But note that you will not need it while this arrangement is in effect. As his wife, you will be provided with everything you need or want. My client insists on it.”

  “This shouldn’t be a part of your proposal,” she remarked, preoccupied with what she’d heard so far, putting things in context. Hers.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Too early for you to say this. The promise of wealth can’t keep a woman in the type of situation you’re describing, unless she is greedy for it, for the status, for the opportunities that would benefit her. And that, I think, is not the type of woman you want to trust with keeping your client’s interests.”

  “At this moment I’m hoping I won’t need to make this proposal to anyone else,” he said frankly. “In truth, I believe you are it.”

  She looked at him in surprise.

  “I consider myself a good judge of character, Ms. Andrews. It comes with the territory. And with the personality, or so my wife says.”

  She smiled at that. She found she liked him. And unfortunately, she had also had to learn to be a fair judge of character.

  “It is clear to me that it is not the money that would appeal to you, Ms. Andrews, which is why I wanted to get it out of the way. Truthfully, I don’t know why you would wish to do this, to enter into this contract, and I’m not asking. I just think that you are the right person for it. For my client.”

  “You need a woman with social skills, a woman who has already been a part of the society you’re describing, the rich and famous, if I understand correctly. Who would know how to play the role of a socialite alongside that of the wife of a wealthy business man.”

  “I thought so too. That was my original plan, the socialite part of it, I confess. But I think”—he considered how best to put it—“I think that aspect of it can be learned, and I think that what you specifically will bring to this role is just what it may need.”

  She frowned at that, but this, this he would say no more about.

  “Allow me another caveat at this time,” he added with a bit of hesitation. “You must understand that the requirements of this arrangement are quite strict. While you are married to my client, you will not be able to date. To . . .”

  “Sleep with anyon
e,” she said with some humor. “And I assume he will?”

  Robert was finding this more difficult than he had imagined he would. And not only because of the task itself. This extraordinary woman deserved more than this. “Yes, he will. But when he does, he will do so discretely, and never in the house he will be sharing with you. That too is in the contract. He is not one to humiliate a woman, any woman, and he will act toward you with all due respect, Ms. Andrews, that much I can promise.”

  “In this era of the constant exposure that you yourself have mentioned, things come out eventually. I wouldn’t want to be blindsided. That, whether your client intends it or not, would be hurtful.”

  He nodded. “He is a powerful man. Power can do a lot.”

  She said nothing.

  She has no reason to trust either me or my client, Robert thought. “I cannot ensure that he will tell you if and when he chooses to . . . date. But if I assure you of a certain openness in this matter, such as if there is any concern of . . . let’s call it a breach of discretion, will that be satisfactory?”

  After a slight hesitation, she nodded.

  “You are concerned about that, but not about the fact that this arrangement would require you to be alone? You are, if I may say so, a young woman, you turned twenty-nine about . . . three months ago, did you not? You certainly have all the qualities that would give you more than enough chance of being in a true relationship, a real marriage.”

  “And yet you chose me,” was all she said, indicating that she presumed he had checked her out, knew the solitary life she led. Which she was not inclined to discuss.