by Lisa Lace
“No, I don’t want—”
“Drink it, please.” I don’t want any arguments from her right now. She suddenly looks much smaller, and her shoulders are hunched over. “You need it. Don’t argue.”
She takes the bottle from me and brings it to her lips. Her hands are shaking, and I feel guilty. I’d rehearsed what I wanted to say to her but I hadn’t taken into account a reaction like this. I’d assumed she would consider it and see it as a golden opportunity. I did break it up between Friday and today so it would be easier to digest, but it’s obvious that it’s something that’s been weighing on her for a long time.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, setting the bottle on my desk. Her hands are still shaking, and she wraps her arms around herself.
“Are you cold? I can adjust the temperature.” I get up to do just that.
“No, I’m not really cold.” She sounds distant. “I think I should probably get back to work, there’s some stuff I can’t take home today.”
I adjust the temperature anyway and grab my jacket from my seat to drop over her shoulders. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”
“This isn’t necessary,” she says, shrugging out of the jacket. This irritates me. Why can’t she just accept what I’m giving her?
“Sit down, just for a minute.” I slip the jacket back over her shoulders. She doesn’t argue this time and wraps it tighter around herself. Shrugging it off must have made her feel colder. Good; now maybe she’ll listen to reason.
I lean against my desk in front of her, my legs extended out in front of me. “You’ll be compensated with far more money for doing exactly what you’re doing now, and with zero debt at the end. I know you want a chance to think everything through and make the best decision for yourself.” I fold my arms and take a deep breath. If I’m going to do this, I need to be absolutely clear.
“However, when I say marriage, I mean we will be sharing a bed.” I let the words sink it. I don’t think it should come as a surprise, given that we’ve already slept together. And knowing how enthusiastic she was, I don’t foresee any protests. Just thinking about that night causes me to straighten up and circle around to my seat.
“We what?” Laura looks up from her position with renewed interest.
“Would that be a problem?” I can’t believe I’m discussing this with her like this. But it’s better to leave emotions out of this bargain. If she accepts, she will be agreeing to it only because of the money, and I will agree for Bella. The sexual attraction will be there, but it’s best to put it in there so we don’t confuse our mutual attraction for anything more than it is. “I’ve had more time to think about this from all angles, so by all means, take your time in considering it.”
“No problems with that,” she murmurs. Laura looks up briefly at me before her eyes flutter down. She squares her shoulders and takes the papers off my desk to study. One of her hands is still wrapped up in my jacket. Her fingers look small and delicate on the lapel, her nails trimmed, with a hint of polish. I think about how much I found out about her through the background check and how much more I don’t know. I find myself wondering if she likes baths and if she prefers colder weather or warmer places.
Norma buzzes in, interrupting my thoughts. “Mr. Brideau? Can you take a call? I have the Lawton Group on the line, and they’re saying it’s urgent. They refuse to talk to anyone but you.”
I look at Laura and don’t say anything for a second. She misreads my meaning and stands up. “I’ll get out of your way,” she says. I want to tell her she can stay, and I find that I want her to stay, but Norma interrupts again, and I agree to take the call. I raise my finger to tell Laura to wait, but she slips out the door before I can stop her.
It’s almost an hour later before I get off the phone, and I decide to find Laura to talk to her. We have so much to discuss, and I wonder why she hasn’t had any questions. Either she’s not asking because she isn’t taking my offer seriously, or she isn’t interested in what I’m offering. I have a feeling it’s the latter, because I don’t know how much more serious I could be, after bringing Walter into the equation.
“Hey.” Sam strolls in just as I hang up on the call. He’s munching on a sandwich. “You busy?”
“Yes and no,” I reply. I find myself slightly bothered by him lately, and wish the feeling would go away. I’m not sure how he’ll react to my decision to ask Laura to marry me, especially since he’s barely seen us in the same room together.
Sam isn’t fazed by my response. He continues to bite into his sandwich and comes to stand by my desk. I see the moment when his eyes fall on Laura’s file, and I reach for it immediately to put it away. I don’t want to tell him anything about the proposal because I don’t want him influencing her decision in any way.
“Did you finish talking to Laura earlier?” Sam takes another bite and gives me a look that says he knows more than he’s letting on.
“Yes, is there a problem?” I know I sound defensive, but I can’t help it. Between the two of us, Sam has always been the charmer, and I can’t afford to take the chance of him being interested in her too.
“No, no problem, I just don’t want you taking all the talent around here.” He looks amused. He finishes his sandwich and helps himself to a tissue from behind my desk.
I don’t like feeling like I’m in the hot seat, so I change the topic. “I just got off the phone with the Lawton Group. I suspect they’ll be getting everything sorted out and sent your way within the week.”
Sam settles in to discuss some details, and I feel my impatience with him slip away. I love how well we work together.
I almost want to tell him about Laura, but I stop myself. I need to talk to her first. It’s mid-afternoon, and she’s probably trying to finish her work before she goes home. Really, we need to have a lengthy discussion in private, uninterrupted by phone calls and visitors.
Sam’s face is animated as he discusses a side venture he’s been thinking about taking up for a while. I stay quiet. The thought of him leaving almost always weighs me down with an unsettled feeling. But I wonder if it might be the best thing for him because his position with me is stagnating.
“Those are some great ideas, Sam,” I encourage him. “I think you’re on the right track. Just give it some time, and some of those issues might iron themselves out.”
Sam grins. “I just haven’t figured out the most important part, which is, how can I function without the help I have now? I don’t know what I did before Laura came here. Everything is so much more...efficient.”
“You’ll do fine on your own; don’t underestimate yourself.” I grunt. So much for encouragement. “Also, I don’t think Laura is going to be interested in moving to do the same thing she’s doing now. What will be stopping her from taking over your position and adding to her salary?”
An unreadable expression passes over his face, and he rises from his chair. “Yeah, right. Hey, listen, I’m going to go finish up some work. I’ll let you know if Lawton calls me later to finalize.”
“Yeah, give them a week,” I stress. “Don’t overwhelm them.”
After Sam leaves, I pull out my phone. My thumb hovers over Laura’s number, and I pause, my own words to Sam echoing in my head. I push the phone away and turn in my chair to look out the window. It’s starting to rain, and I watch the droplets hit the pane and slide down slowly.
Agitated, I push away from my desk and decide to find Laura. I need to talk to her, even if it’s just to get a sense of what she’s feeling.
“Mr. Brideau?” A tall blonde pokes her head through. I suppress a groan. She always manages to find me alone. I know I’ve seen her around the office for a while but I don’t recall her name. At first, I thought she was working up the courage to ask for a raise. But I quickly realized she was just flirting with me and not picking up on the signals I was sending to deter her.
“Yes?” I wonder where Norma is. She never lets anyone slip by without announcing them first.
; “I just wanted to have a talk with you, if that’s okay.” She’s edging in and closing the door behind her.
“Actually, I was just stepping out,” I tell her. “You can talk to me for a minute, but I’ll be able to give you more time if you schedule something with Norma.” I don’t bother trying to be subtle.
“Oh, we can stay here. It’ll just be a minute.” Her hand is on the knob, and she’s standing between me and the door.
“Let’s go,” I say firmly. “I need to leave.”
I step closer to her, and she hesitates before twisting the knob and allowing me out. She follows me, pausing to smooth her skirt and the necklace at her throat. I see a few people look up with interest at her, but she sticks her nose in the air and breezes past them. I almost feel as if I’m following her when she picks up her pace.
Once we near the conference room, she stops and examines her nails. “The room is busy. You know what, maybe I should schedule something later. I don’t want to be a bother.”
I nod and keep quiet. She waits for a few beats as if waiting for me to assure her that she’s no bother at all. I don’t. Something about her seems a bit off to me.
“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Brideau,” she says, leaning in toward me to touch my arm.
I want to snatch my arm away, but it will be too obvious. “No problem,” I lie.
Turning on her heel, she clips away toward the elevator, and I shake my head. I don’t know what that was about, and I don’t think I want to find out. One glance into the conference room tells me Laura is gone. I walk back to my office in disappointment. I will just have to wait until she’s ready to come to me.
Laura
When I woke up this morning, I could have sworn it was all a dream. And I did think it was just that, only an extra vivid dream until I saw the papers sitting on my coffee table. I made it through work without seeing Maxwell, but I did miss a call from him after lunch. I’m glad Bella wasn’t with me, or I would have had to answer the phone.
It’s been an interesting twenty-four hours, but I think I’m finally over my initial shock at Maxwell’s proposal. I sit on my bed with a notebook open. I make two columns and begin to jot down the pros and cons.
Pro, I will have paid off all my debt. Con, I am temporarily married to someone. For Maxwell, it will seem like just another business deal. But everyone will look at me differently. I don’t know if I’m ready to answer any questions about it. Are we supposed to pretend we’re in love? Or does everyone know the circumstances of our marriage? I don’t understand the nuances of what goes into a fake relationship, and I’m not sure if I’m adult enough to handle one. It feels like an affair, something cheap and tawdry. I don’t know how to shake that feeling.
That said—nothing about the night I shared with Maxwell was cheap or tawdry. He made me feel so incredible and desirable. I felt like I discovered part of myself that night. I never allowed myself to imagine how wonderful it would be to sleep with a man. Much of my experience—or lack thereof was centered around sexual shame and repression because of Dave. When I eventually found him in bed with another woman, I decided I didn’t need anything or anyone. I didn’t realize I was giving up the opportunity to see how beautiful sex could be.
Shivering at the memory of Maxwell’s head between my legs, I feel a surge of desire. Oh, my God. I squeeze my eyes shut, but the image only becomes more vivid. His mouth descending on me is a visual that could keep me distracted for hours. And it has—both in the conference room and at many points during the day.
I want to call him to come over again so badly, but he’s complicated everything with this proposal. If I say “no,” does that mean we can’t sleep together anymore?
Thinking about the offer in depth, I don’t know why I wouldn’t take it, though. It seems foolish to pass up. Within a year, I’ll have so many more opportunities available to me, simply because I will be able to overcome the income barrier.
I have to take the deal; it’s the only way out. Recalling the file he has on me, I frown. I don’t know how he was able to get those detailed numbers, but he did make some valid points. Okay, everything he said makes sense.
The part about us having sex regularly makes my stomach lurch. Just the memory of us that night makes me grow warm, and I bury my face in my hands. That alone is a huge pro. I click under that column and add it in all caps.
My phone rings and I pick up. It’s Riley. I disguise my disappointment when I answer her call.
“Hey! I was just thinking about you,” I tell her. “Don’t you have a date tonight?”
“I do, yes. But I wanted to talk since I barely saw you today. They really have you working a lot! You’re doing work for Maxwell too now, right? Look at you moving on up!” Riley lets out a whoop, and I pull the phone away from my ear.
“No, well, yes, but it’s not like that,” I say, wondering if now is the best time to come clean.
“It’s like what, then?” Riley’s not one to miss a change in tone. I can almost see her ears perking up on the other line. Part of me wants to shut down her suspicions, even though she has every right to suspect something.
“Um, well, it’s just me watching Bella. You know.” Now isn’t the best time. I don’t even know how I feel about the whole thing.
“Hmm, yeah. You’re amazing for doing that. I hope you’re getting properly compensated for it.”
I look at my mattress and remember Maxwell compensating in the most incredible ways, and I close my eyes. “Yeah, um, he is.”
“Are you okay?” Riley asks sharply. “You sound a little far away.”
“No, I’m great. Just a little tired. I have some work I need to get done tonight. I didn’t take home some of my regular work today because I’m working on a small project for Samuel. If all goes well, he says he has a better opportunity to offer me.”
“Oh Laura, that’s wonderful!” Riley sounds pleased. “I’m so happy everything is coming together for you. I was worried about you closing yourself off for so long. This will hopefully lead to more work opportunities and personal ones as well.”
“Right.” I can’t think of anything else to add so I change the topic. “Where are you going for your date? And what are you wearing?”
“Oh, that’s right. You haven’t been on a date in so long—I need to start prepping you for this kind of stuff. Well, I’m wearing a deep blue sleeveless dress with a low v-cut neckline—you know what, I’ll just send you a picture with my killer heels.”
“What about your date? Who is he?” I ask.
“It’s a guy from one of the floors below me. We’ve been flirting for at least three months, and he finally took some initiative. That’s why I picked this killer dress. It’ll knock him senseless, and he’ll wonder why he didn’t make his move sooner.”
I smile at her trademark overconfidence. “He must have thought you were already taken,” I say. “Why else would he have waited so long?”
“Humph. Well, whatever the case, I’ve got him on the hook now. We’ll see what he’s packing tonight.”
“Are you going to sleep with him?” I squeak. The idea of sleeping with a random person puts me on edge. After sleeping with Maxwell, I can’t imagine another person in my bed. Probably because I haven’t had another person there, but Riley’s casual approach still alarms me.
“Well, how else am I supposed to find out what he’s packing, Laura?” Riley laughs. “As soon as I get laid, I’ll work on getting you laid. No reason for any attachments. We’ll have you do the deed so you can get over your hang-up about it.”
After I end the call with her, I get ready for bed. When I lie down to sleep, Riley’s words echo in my mind. She made sex sound casual and impersonal, though, for me, it was anything but.
I leap up to grab the contract papers and settle back in bed with them. With my lamp on, I read over the words again carefully.
Everything in the agreement is carefully worded and...sterile. For a well thought out document, though, it isn’t
clear on when the agreement takes place. I know he wants it taken care of before he goes overseas, so it has to be soon. I get to the last page and see Maxwell’s signature already scrawled on the bottom. There’s a gap, and my name is listed, with a blank line waiting above it.
Pushing away from the paper, I pace the room. Pulling my hair out of the loose bun, I rub my temples while I think. Pros and cons aside, can I actually do this? Why does it seem like it’s not my life playing out in front of me? I feel like I’m acting in a film about someone else’s life.
This is how people used to get married, though. Arranged marriages, entering into a marriage that served some practical purpose. It’s not so bizarre. Who am I kidding though? No one does arranged marriages anymore, at least not in western culture. It’s such a gamble. But, at least it’s not a complete gamble like an arranged marriage.
What if I say “no” to all this? Do we just keep seeing each other in the office and forget that we slept together? The thought of not sleeping with him again makes my heart lurch. While I’m sure Riley would be on the hunt to find me another partner before I even ask, I can’t imagine another partner so soon.
My heart beats a little faster when I think about sleeping with him. I feel a surge rush through me before I grab the pen and hover it just above the line. It’s not even permanent. It has a termination date. Plus, I reason, while resting my pen on the line, my duties will mostly remain the same. When I finish the scrawl of my last name, I stare at the ink drying.
I hold my breath as if something will immediately take place, some magical transformation. When all I can hear is the clock ticking in the living room, I slowly release it.
Nothing has happened, not yet. But it will. Soon, I will become Mrs. Brideau. I shiver at the idea and put everything on my nightstand before settling deep under my covers. If it’s going to happen as soon as I think it might, I’m going to need to take some time off beforehand to prepare. As I fall asleep, I feel as if a weight has been lifted from me—even though I have no idea what I’m getting myself into.
