by Joya Ryan
“You look pale, Megan.”
I felt the blood leave my face. “Ah, probably because I’m confused and shocked.”
“Well, it’s really very simple. I need a wife and you need money. We can help each other. Lars and I have spent the weekend going over everything and I have the contract drawn up and ready to go.”
“Whoa.” I swayed in my seat and wondered if it was possible to pass out while sitting down. I closed my eyes and placed my palm in her forehead, forcing myself to breathe.
A set of hands cupped my knees and the unexpected feel of rough palms on my skin sent shivers up my thighs. I opened my eyes and found Preston kneeling before me, those blazing greens burning bright with what almost looked like worry.
“Forgive me. I know this is shocking. I’m not good with conversational niceties.”
“No kidding?” I murmured. “Seriously, Preston, is this some kind of joke?”
“No. I don’t joke about things as important as this.”
He gently massaged my knee and my dizzy brain began swimming for a whole other reason. Damn the man. Damn his hands. Damn his voice. Damn his bluntness that made me want to keel over and damn that sexy gleam in his eyes and perfect smile. Damn it all.
“If you’re okay to continue, I’ll explain.”
I nodded instantly. “An explanation would be wonderful.”
He gave a curt nod then moved to sit behind his desk again.
Mr. Blackwell put a single printed piece of paper in front of me and a pen. “This is a non-disclosure agreement. Whatever we talk about in here stays in here. Any conversation we have will remain private and confidential.”
I looked up at the attorney. Again, a mask of seriousness. I took his pen in my hand, trying not to shake. I read over the agreement. Standard non-disclosure. Apparently whatever we were about to talk about was defcon-super-secret-freak-Megan-out kind of info.
I signed and Mr. Blackman took the paper. He nodded to Preston.
“Okay, here’s the situation,” Preston began. “I hold forty-nine percent of Strauss holdings worldwide.”
I nodded. I had heard the typical stories when I started working here, but most of them were about John Strauss Senior. Little was mentioned about his two sons, mostly because they seemed to work behind the scenes and no one had ever really met them.
“My brother, Charlie, holds forty-eight percent.” Preston’s eyes went hard when he spoke of his brother. There was obviously no love lost there. “And my father owns the remaining three percent.”
“Okay,” I said in understanding.
“My father is retiring. Though he will sit on the board, he is set to give his three percent stake to either my brother or myself.”
Ah, now it made sense. That three percent if given to Charlie would put him at fifty-one percent and the majority over Preston. I had dealt with my fair share of contracts and legal issues in real estate and property management—not to mention several college courses on business and finance.
“I see you’ve mentally worked through the math.”
“Yes, but I still don’t see what this has to do with you getting married.”
“I have built this hotel into an empire. My brother has merely inherited what he has. My father is aware of this and up until I spoke to him last week, was prepared to give me the three percent. Now, he’s leaning toward giving it to Charlie.”
“Why?”
“Because he has a legacy,” Preston snarled the last word.
It was the first time I saw the angry side start to seep out. There was apparently a lot going on with this family that I didn’t know and probably didn’t want to. Growing up with Kate as a best friend, I had a firsthand look at her family. Whether they were mentally ill or just plain mean, I learned that appearances can be deceiving.
“Charlie and his wife just had their first child.”
“I see.” My brain was processing a mile a minute, but at least things were starting to make some sense. Trying to keep things straight, I replayed Preston’s words. So Preston wanted the majority of the holdings, but John Charles Senior wanted a Strauss heir, which Preston’s brother had, but Preston didn’t. “So you want to…”
Boom! My blood pressure spiked when the piece slipped into place.
“Are you saying that you want to have a baby? With me!?”
“No.” He sounded more disgusted by the idea than I did, which sort of hurt and was a completely stupid emotion. I barely knew the man. But this situation was proving to exceed anything I ever expected.
“I just want to marry you. We will show everyone that we are a happy, stable couple and that will be enough for presumption that we will have a family.”
“But we won’t.”
“No.” He glanced at Mr. Blackwell, then his gaze was back on me. “I’m asking for three years, Megan. Everything will operate as a standard engagement. Then a wedding, and yes,” his eyes bore into mine, “consummation of the marriage.”
Embarrassment snared through my bones like a freshly hit drum. I looked at Mr. Blackwell, who didn’t seem to care in the slightest.
“If you say yes, there will be a prenuptial agreement. During the time of our engagement and marriage, you will be provided for and have a weekly allowance as well as an escrow account of five million dollars that will fund at the end of three years. Then you will take your money and we part amicably.”
That shock I had finally pushed down? Rose times ten.
“I…I don’t think I can…this is…” I started toying with the hem of my skirt.
“Lars, can you excuse us for a moment?” Preston said.
The attorney quietly left and shut the door behind him.
“Look at me, Megan.” My eyes snapped to his like a magnet to metal. “I know this must be a lot to take in, but I’m running out of time. I need you to help me with this and you,” he opened the file in front of him, “could benefit from my help as well.”
My stomach roiled and my skin felt damp and chilly.
He looked through the papers. “You worked for Tim St. Roy at his real estate firm in Chicago.”
Oh no…
What exactly did he have on me? Preston continued, like listing the facts of my life was no big deal.
“St. Roy was imprisoned a few months ago for investment fraud, money laundering and tax evasion. And it looks like,” he flipped more pages, “your parents were two of the unlucky victims of his scheme.”
A scheme I unknowingly helped him with. I pushed my parents to invest. Thought it would be good for them. They put up their house and sank their retirement into something that I had facilitated, only to lose it all. We were barely able to make the house payments after the second mortgage was taken out on it.
We were sinking. And it was my fault.
“Based on your bank records, it looks like you wire every spare cent you make back to your parents.”
I frowned so hard I felt it on the back of my head. “How did you—this is an invasion of privacy.”
“When you applied for employment here you consented to a background check.”
“Yeah, but this is—”
“Thorough research,” he cut in.
I shook my head and for some reason tears started rising to the surface. This was too much. Too weird. How had my life taken such a wrong turn? A year ago I had graduated college with a mission to take on the world, have a husband who loved me and a family that wasn’t in financial ruins. Apparently that had been too much to hope for.
Nothing was easy, and the rainbows I had been thinking would somehow shoot out of the world’s ass and glitter over my life were long gone. My parents were on the brink of bankruptcy and losing the house I grew up in. My father was the one who taught me to work for what you wanted. But he was losing his mind and I was running out of options. The dreams of happiness and success looked more like a glitchy hologram than a reality.
“Megan,” Preston pulled me back to attention. “I have the contract. It’s
simple and profitable for both of us.”
“And you think that if we just play the part of the happy couple your father will give you what you want?”
“Yes.”
“What about your brother? Won’t he be upset? Won’t someone notice that some random girl just popped up out of nowhere?”
“No. I travel a lot and keep my personal life very private. My family doesn’t involve themselves in my affairs aside from business.”
“But what about your mom? Mom’s always know—”
“She died when I was thirteen.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“That’s unnecessary.” He shifted in his seat. The issue of his mom was clearly uncomfortable. But he recovered quickly. Calm shoulders and hard face fell back in place. “Charlie may be the first born, but he will sink the company if he gets the majority and my father knows that. The old man is adamant about a damn legacy though.”
“But you have no intention of giving him that.”
“Doesn’t matter. Once we’re married, he’ll assume we will have children and I won’t let him think otherwise. That will be enough.”
“This seems so…wrong.”
“Does it?” He sat back in his chair in a way I was beginning to recognize. He did this when he held the upper hand. “We are two consenting adults. We’re sexually compatible and have something to gain from the other. If more people discussed the pitfalls and terms of this sort of arrangements more marriages would last.”
“Yeah, but ours has an expiration of three years, so essentially your point doesn’t matter because we’ll end in divorce anyway despite our discussion.”
He grinned. “Yes, but I can promise that it will be an enjoyable three years.”
His voice held a dark edge and his eyes ran down the length of my body. My skin pricked and my breasts tingled, suddenly feeling very heavy. He was not like anything I’d ever encountered. Hard and playful. Blunt and logical. Yet there was an animalistic side that I’d bet rarely got unleashed. I had seen it the other night and my confused body was already grappling for another taste. Which wasn’t helpful.
“You said the other day that you wanted three things from a relationship: trust, respect and connection.” He counted on his fingers. “You also wanted to know what you were getting into. I’ve acquiesced to all your requests. I am laying out everything I want and asking you if you agree. No lies. No secrets. You have full disclosure. You also have my respect and it’s no secret that we connect well.”
Good lord, the man was sexy when he smiled. I had to remind myself to stay reasonable.
“And how long will that respect last?”
He grinned. “You mean, will I be faithful to you?”
“No.” Yes.
“I would view this as a legitimate marriage. Which means yes, I would be faithful and expect the same from you.”
I rubbed my temples because I was pretty certain my brain was suffocating from lack of oxygen and misfiring of synapses.
“I just…this is all so clinical.”
I heard him move, but didn’t look up to follow him. His breath was instantly on the back of my neck. He stood behind me and reached around to place his hands on the armrests of my chair, caging me in from behind.
“Does it help to know that I’m painfully attracted to you?” He moved his head to the other side and kissed my earlobe. “That I have thought of nothing but that night, with you sprawled out beneath me.” Kiss. “I can still feel my cock deep inside you.” Nip. “Feel your lips on my neck and your nails in my back.”
I shuttered out a breath. My whole body was singing and begging for him. I clenched my fists to keep from reaching out.
“We’d make a good couple, Megan. Just because it’s unconventional doesn’t mean it’s clinical.”
He drew away and came to stand in front of me, leaning back against the edge of his desk. If I hadn’t believed his words, the obvious bulge in his pants would have given him away.
God, I wanted this man. So much that I’d thought of little else. But the rollercoaster of the last few days was wearing me down hard. I came in today expecting to get fired and instead had a marriage proposal and a way to take care of my parents offered to me.
With that kind of money I could afford a full-time nurse.
“Three years, and I can use the money however I want.”
He nodded. “The money I give you is yours. The lump sum will be paid out at the end of the contract but, yes, in the meantime, the money I give you weekly is yours to do with as you’d like. Your basic needs, living expenses and the wedding costs I will take care of separately.”
“And no children?” I needed to reaffirm that concept.
“No. Actually,” he glanced over his shoulder, “should you get pregnant, it will void the contract and you get nothing.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but what? I didn’t want to have a child with someone I didn’t love. I didn’t want to argue, but this clause—along with everything else—seemed odd.
It wasn’t until I took a deep breath and thought about it, that it began making sense. A child was a tie to someone forever. Child support, legal fees, alimony and God knew what kind of trouble could come from dragging a paternity suit through family court for someone with assets like Preston Strauss.
Too much information was coating my mind. I thought of what my dad would say. A piercing pain stuck me in the ribs. My father wouldn’t say much, because he struggled to even remember who I was.
Something very deep and very raw bubbled from the core of my soul and threatened my composure. I always thought my father would be there when I got married. Thought he’d walk me down the aisle and give me away. At the rate things were going, he may not even know me in a few months. Fake wedding or not, this may be the only chance I had for him to be a part of something like this. The realization was icing on this fucked-up cake I was being offered.
I ran a fingertip along my lower lashes, shook off the awful feeling beginning to consume me, and looked at Preston.
“Anything else?”
“I’ll need a copy of your medical records before we can begin. Proof of health and preventative contraception measures taken. Mine are already on file.”
I stood up and tried to get a handle on my shaking legs. There was a lot to think about and I hadn’t entirely made up my mind. Though part of me felt like a glorified prostitute, the other part really heeded what Preston had said.
We were being honest, mapping out what we both wanted and didn’t want, and what we stood to gain. We liked each other. Attraction wasn’t an issue. People got married for much less. And gold-diggers went about this thing all the time in secret. We were consenting adults discussing a contract.
Yet the mental fight I was waging wasn’t one hundred percent convincing. Still, my parents were floundering, and it was my fault. Even at the rate I was going with my job at the hotel, it wasn’t enough. My father needed serious care and my mother needed help.
I walked to the door and opened it. Preston was right behind me.
“If I say no, do I still have my job?”
“Of course. What we discussed here today stays between us. Your job will be safe. It’s not my desire to make your life difficult.”
I looked over my shoulder at him. A soft sincerity tinted his eyes and it hit me like a punch to the gut. There was something about him. And it was suffocating me, forcing me to beg for air only he could provide.
He followed me down the hall. We rode the elevator in total silence and once in the lobby, I faced him. My back was toward the massive front doors and the chill of spring air hit my shoulders as guests walked in and out of the hotel. To my right was the desk I would walk behind and start my shift. I tried not to notice the prying eyes staring at me.
Preston gently grabbed my hand in his and ran his thumb over my knuckles. The action was so sensitive, and so different from the all-business attitude of a few moments ago in his office. He was close enough
that I could feel the heat of his body envelop mine and I wanted to reach out and snag that warmth. To find some kind of comfort in this whole mess and gain footing on the life I had been missing for the past six months.
“How long do I have to think about this?” I breathed. It was easy getting caught up in his presence—a fact I was learning the hard way.
He tilted his head down, his lips hovering over mine. I was lost. All I could focus on was his mouth and the memory of how good it felt on me.
He glanced over my shoulder. “About forty-five seconds.”
My eyes shot wide. “What? I can’t make a decision like this in—”
“Thirty seconds.”
“This is crazy!” I whispered harshly. The smile he unleashed turned all my insides to puddles and I knew he had me.
“Is that a yes?”
“When would we start?”
He pulled me into his arms. “Right now,” and kissed the breath from me.
Chapter Five
His kiss was firm, but his lips were soft against mine. It was a possessive. Controlled. Meant to knock a girl off her feet. And he had succeeded because my knees were weak and the only reason I stayed upright was due to his strong embrace.
He pulled away and barely touched the tip of my nose with his.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
I didn’t get a single word out because he spun me around to face two very confused-looking men with equally questioning glares.
“Father, how are you?” Preston said and shook the older man’s hand while keeping one on the small of my back.
Oh crap!
“Preston,” he greeted back, his eyes floating to mine.
He was a tall man and in great shape despite the fact he had to be pushing seventy-five. Preston shared the same strong jaw and broad shoulders, but the older man’s eyes were a dim blue while Preston’s were a vibrant green—a trait he must have gotten from his mother.
“What is this?” the younger man asked, waving a hand in my direction as if inquiring about a stain on the carpet. “Another one of your pets?”
Preston’s hand on my back tightened, fisting the material of my shirt. His stare was locked on the man who, judging by the asshole attitude and blatant insult, was Preston’s brother I’d heard so much about.
