by Lily LaVae
Inside the pocket was Dr. Edward Peterson’s card with his number and the newspaper clipping, crumpled but still legible. She pressed it flat and stared at the ad, her heart racing. She needed a job. Her landlord would hold her place if she could assure payment was coming, but not for long.
Her closet was sorely lacking, but she managed to find a pencil skirt she’d worn to her first interview way back before her life had changed forever. She stared at the little angel wing tattoo on her shoulder and the anger that usually welled up, turned to tears. In a week, it would be one year since her life had changed.
One year since Liam had walked away.
She bunched her hands into fists. Thinking about when her fiancé left her was counter-productive. She found a dark silk top in the back of her closet that would cover the little tattoo. Then she slipped on heels and switched her messenger bag for a clutch purse.
Taking one last look around her apartment, she took a deep breath and locked the door behind her. It felt like stepping into a whole new life, but it was just another job. She shook the strange feeling from her as she strode out to her car and followed the directions from the map on her phone to the address.
The agency was a three-story brick building with no name on the front, just a number. While it looked like any other business, the lack of an identity set her skin to prickling. For all she knew, this was some fake ad made to lure in unsuspecting women—like the Craigslist ads her mom had always warned her about.
She gripped the short handle of her purse, prepared to use it as a weapon, and stepped out into the hot sun of the parking lot. She searched for any sign that the building might not be just what it seemed—like strange vans without rear windows—but the building was just like every other in the small office complex. Inside, the front entry was empty except for a woman sitting at a long, half-circle desk. Her headset was small and it appeared like she was talking to herself, her huge curls adding to the strange scene.
She pressed a button on the phone and moved her headset to the side then put on an enormous fake smile. “May I help you?”
Eloise dug the ad out from her purse and slid it across the desk.
“You’re here to see Mrs. Creed. Why don’t you have a seat in the chairs just over there. Congratulations on taking such a life-changing step!”
Eloise pushed her hair behind her ear once again and strode over to the waiting room chairs. Mrs. Creed was apparently the applications manager or perhaps in charge of hiring? It was difficult to decide which when she knew nothing about the business.
An older woman with short white curls and a business suit came through the door and held out her hand. “Welcome to the DBA. My name is Alveda Creed. I’ll be helping you fill out your paperwork today and get you sent down to our medical staff for prescreening. We’re glad to have you.”
The woman’s hand was cold as she shook Eloise’s then directed her through the door.
“I’m Eloise Fontaine. I found your ad in the paper.” What else could she say? What was the DBA? She’d never even heard of it.
“That’s fine. We’ll get to all of that in a moment when we sit down and have a chat about the best way to use your talents.”
Her talents? She didn’t really have any. “Well, I can type. I’m not so good at answering the phone. I don’t put up with stupid very well.”
“Miss Fontaine!” Mrs. Creed scolded her.
Eloise could feel her blood pressure rising. She stopped in the middle of the hallway and forced her breathing to slow. She couldn’t afford to lose this job before she even started, but when had truth become wrong?
Mrs. Creed’s mouth turned down in a sour frown. “Should you pass our rigorous tests, you will go through training on how to speak and act accordingly. Most of the men who apply are quite wealthy and expect a certain level of decorum.”
Her anger broke through. “Are you telling me that no women apply to your company? That sounds very sexist.”
Mrs. Creed laughed. “If you would prefer to be matched with a woman, it is rare and highly unlikely that I’ll be able to help you. We just don’t see those applications. Perhaps there are other services similar to ours that would be a better suit?”
Eloise closed her eyes and focused on keeping her anger under control, along with her mouth. Mrs. Creed was older and maybe she just hadn’t entered the twenty-first century yet. She hadn’t even met with anyone when she’d filled out the other applications.
“Miss Fontaine?” Mrs. Creed raised her brows and waited. “The choice is yours.”
Was it? It sure didn’t feel like she had any say at all. “I’ll stay.”
Mrs. Creed smiled and continued down the hall, finally opening a nondescript door to a small office. Eloise followed her in. There was a desk with a chair on either side. A small tray of water and snacks sat on the edge and next to it was a pristine file about an inch thick.
“Over the next few hours, you’ll be filling out all of this paperwork to help determine if you’re a good fit for our organization.”
She was usually pretty good at seeing what kind of answer was expected, just from how the questions were asked, but she’d never seen a stack of paperwork for a job that thick before. “What’s in there? Do you need to know everything? Right down to my favorite color?” She joked, hoping Mrs. Creed would laugh a little and give her some indication of what she was up against.
“Well, yes. Even that can be important. This is your life we’re talking about. Any information you can give us will be helpful in placing you.”
Eloise took a seat on the side of the desk facing the door and Mrs. Creed took the other.
“Good. Now, I need to ask you one very important question before we even open this file. Miss Fontaine, are you a virgin?”
3
“What did you just ask me?” Eloise clutched her chair and slid it back, ready to run. What kind of freaky job was this, anyway?
“Don’t look so shocked. Your husband will want to know if you’ve slept with anyone else or not.” The words fell from Mrs. Creed’s lips as if what she said made perfect sense, but they certainly didn’t.
“My…husband?” Her head was spinning. This couldn’t be happening.
“Yes, you’ve come to the Diamond Bridal Agency. It’s our job to find you the perfect husband, and, not to brag, but we take our job very seriously and few of our women ever come back.”
“Marry? You want me to marry someone? That’s how I’m going to change the world?” Her voice was so high it was approaching silent.
“Yes. The men fill out a questionnaire, much like the one you’re about to fill out and then we enter it into our database and we don’t place you until we can find a perfect match. The only exceptions are those who are not virginal. Those require…more time.”
Eloise gulped back the bile in her throat. “I want to leave. I’m no virgin. This isn’t the place for me. I thought you were a hiring agency.” The closed door and small room suddenly felt stifling. She was too terrified to even get angry. Maybe Ed was right, this place would take the anger right out of her. She’d kill him if she ever got out of this place.
“Dear me. That is terribly unfortunate. We are a very private organization and I assumed you’d been told by the secretary at the front desk. No matter. By the end of the first few days, even the most hesitant of brides are ready to find their husbands when they realize they don’t have to play the field anymore.”
“Play the field?” Eloise raised her eyebrows. She hadn’t played anything, but that still hadn’t kept her from finding herself pregnant and scared as the father walked away. Nope. She wouldn’t ever let a man touch her again. She may not be a virgin but it didn’t matter, because she’d die with the same number of sexual partners as she had now—one. “No. I don’t want a husband. I don’t want to be here. I swear, I won’t tell anyone about your little company. I just need to go. You see, if I don’t get a job—like, today—my landlord will take my apartment and I’ll lose my
car.”
Mrs. Creed laughed. “If we manage to find a match for you quickly, you can have your clothing bonus right away and that should take care of any final bills you have. I do ask that you retain most of it, though. Our clothing experts prefer to have enough to buy you a new wardrobe that will best match what your husband will need and what will make you both happy. His satisfaction is guaranteed and it’s one way we thank our brides.”
But if he wasn’t satisfied…
“And what happens if he isn’t and he returns his bride?”
Mrs. Creed’s brow furrowed. “Well, in that case, we ask our returned brides if they would like to try again or if they would like to sign a silence clause. They are then let go of any obligation. But you must understand, it rarely happens. We are in the business to make sure you succeed.”
Eloise didn’t care about succeeding at finding a husband, just in making ends meet. “So, if you find me a match today, I get the money to pay my bills, and a new wardrobe?”
“Yes.”
Eloise smiled to herself as she planned all the ways to make a man hate her. This couldn’t have been more perfect. She grabbed the pen next to the stack of papers. “Let’s fill this out.”
Dear Mr. Turner,
After careful consideration of your needs, the Diamond Bridal Agency is pleased to inform you that a bride has been located who matches your unique requirements. All communications have been kept private, as is our policy and will cease after this missive. We request, for the security of our other clients, that you destroy this message after reading it.
Your satisfaction is guaranteed. To comply with your request for a bride as quickly as possible, your bride will be waiting at our headquarters in Addison on August 13th. Your name has been kept private, as you requested. Please do not hesitate to contact me should there be any issue with your bride. Her name is Eloise Fontaine, and she will sign the contract when she meets you.
Sincerely,
Mrs. Alveda Creed, Diamond Bridal Agency
Morgan stared at the letter and laughed. Eloise Fontaine didn’t have a clue what she was getting into. She’d agreed to be a bride, but he had no intention of marrying her, ever. He wanted to be able to see whoever he wanted to, but at least his PA woes would be history.
She would be matched to his exact specifications. He’d never been able to relinquish control of hiring to anyone else, and now he wouldn’t have to do it again for a long while. He’d spent a couple years’ worth of PA salary and a few hours of his life filling out enough paperwork to start a small country. But, he’d never have to do it again. He’d included a stipulation in his contract that she couldn’t leave for a year, that meant she couldn’t quit. If he fired her, or as he’d worded it in the contract, dissolved their relationship, she would get a small one-time severance.
The DBA had almost failed him. They’d taken all of his break and he and the band would be leaving for their first stop on their next tour within days of picking her up. If he’d had to leave, there wouldn’t have been any way to come back to get her. He would’ve had to have her delivered to him.
He’d made sure the agency kept his name private, because if Eloise had known who she was being matched with, she might have formed ideas, real marital ideas, before he’d had a chance to tell her how things would really be. Only a few more days and he could stop worrying about a PA and think about his next album. The weight off his shoulders would help the ideas flow, and that was worth more than what he’d paid the agency.
4
The front lobby of the Diamond Bridal Agency was chilly and Eloise tried to focus on that instead of the fact that the man who thought he’d be her husband would walk through the door at any moment. It had only taken the agency four days for them to not only find her match, but to arrange for him to pick her up. She knew nothing about him, but that didn’t matter. She would just give him a little taste of what he’d be up against if he brought her home and Mrs. Creed would be shoving that silence paperwork under her nose by the end of the day.
The money they’d given her to buy clothing had paid her apartment and car for six months and she’d still had plenty to buy more clothes than she’d ever had before, with the help of the agency assistant. When she went to apply for jobs after this was over, she’d have the perfect wardrobe. This plan was better than any dream.
“Miss Fontaine?” The secretary drew her from her thoughts and she strode over to the massive desk that hid most of the secretary.
“Yes?” Her skirt suit was shorter than she was used to, and she kept wanting to tug it down a few inches.
“The contract is here at the desk when your fiancé arrives, including your stipulations. Make sure you stop here and pick it up before you run off.” She laughed.
Did women really do that? Were they so excited by a stranger that they forgot something so important, like signing the documents? “I’m sure I won’t forget.”
The door pushed open and a man strode in. He was confident, so confident he came across as cocky. His dark hair was longer than expected and pulled back from his face. He was broad at the shoulders and narrow at the hips with a black leather belt, showing it off. He gave off the distinct impression that he wanted people to stare and so stare she did. Everything about him would draw her in, from his thick hair to the leather boots that screamed motorcycle bad-boy. He wore a plain white tee with a fitted suit coat and she could see his chest was heavily tattooed beneath the fabric that clung to him just right. Even though he’d come inside, he still wore sunglasses, keeping her from seeing the majority of his face. He strode up to her and propped his elbow against the desk. If this was her husband, she’d marry him every night for a month and twice on Sundays.
“You Eloise?”
She was a little taken aback by his casual greeting, considering the situation. “Yes, and you are?”
He glanced from her to the secretary. “Got the paperwork?”
The woman beamed up at him. “Yes, sir. It’s right here. Will you be needing a notary?”
He nodded and the woman pressed a button behind her desk and spoke softly into her headset.
Eloise snapped her attention to her fiancé. “Aren’t you going to at least tell me your name?” He might have been hotter than a Texas sunrise, but his lack of information and cold greeting set off all her alarm bells.
“Sugar, it doesn’t matter what my name is. You agreed to these terms a long time ago. Today, you’ll sign the papers that are a compromise of what both of us said we want. Then, we go home.” He chuckled, but his face was solid, not humorous. There wasn’t anything about him that was relaxed, but she wasn’t either.
Mrs. Creed entered through the doors that led back to the offices and shook Mr. Stranger’s hand. “Good to see you again. Let’s get this little formality behind us and get you both on your way.” She took the papers from the envelope and laid them out on the raised desk. “Now, of course you both are encouraged to read the documents yourself but here are the main points. Eloise, you must agree to stay with Mr. Turner for a minimum of twelve months.”
Mr. Turner? That was a common enough name and didn’t tell her anything. Though he was hot, hot didn’t make a marriage and his attitude left her leaning toward her original plan. “And what are the ramifications if I don’t?”
She’d thought he couldn’t get any more tense, but her words did the trick.
“Should you decide to break the contract, instead of the agreed sum, you would only receive a small severance.”
Severance? That sounded like a job, not a marriage. She scanned the sheet and the amount she would get if she stayed with him at least a year about had her on the floor. She’d never make that much in a lifetime. Could she suck it up and stay with a man for one year if it meant she’d never have to work again? She could if they’d included her clause in the document, the one she’d negotiated in case leaving proved more difficult than she’d hoped.
“Mr. Turner, Eloise has stipulated only one thing
. The marriage will not be consummated.”
He grabbed the pen offered by the secretary and scrawled his name on the bottom. She couldn’t even read it. As she took the same pen, she hesitated, surprised by his quick response. She’d expected him to fight about her request. Most men she’d met loved sex, but perhaps he got enough side action he didn’t need her.
If she signed, she’d better plan to be with him for a year. Otherwise it wasn’t worth it. She could feel the angst roll off him. The man oozed stubborn. After she scrawled her name on the line, she glanced up at the typed name next to his signature.
Morgan Turner.
Eloise gripped the desk as her knees turned to jelly.
He knew the exact moment she read his name; was expecting the reaction he got everywhere he went. It was why he’d avoided telling her in the first place. At least old lady Creed hadn’t given him away. Mrs. Creed took out her little stamp and with a hearty thump her mark was permanently on the document. She then initialed, dated it, and gathered the sheets.
“I’ll just give this to our lawyers and send a copy to each of you in the next few days. Mr. Turner, you said you didn’t wish for us to plan a ceremony for you, but do let us know if there’s anything we can assist you with. That is part of our satisfaction guarantee.” She smiled and shook first his hand, and then Eloise’s. She didn’t even seem to notice Eloise was in shock.
“Do you need a stiff drink or something, think you can actually move so we get out of here?” He crossed his arms and glanced around them. There were cameras everywhere, he could almost smell tomorrow’s tabloids. The headlines ran in his head. Music legend picks up wife through the drive through…
“You’re….Morgan Turner. The Morgan Turner?” She squeaked.
“That’s the name my mother gave me.” Not really, it was the name his record label had given him and then made him legally change it. That had been before he was one of the highest grossing recording artists in the world. Now, he couldn’t change it.
