by Keys, Sherie
“I don’t know, this still seems weird to me,” said Jacob.
“Buck up. It is only just for a month. And who knows,” Jeremy smirked mischievously, “you may even find ‘true love at long last.’”
“Oh, shut up.”
“You know what they say, ‘Don’t knock it until you have tried it,’” said Jeremy. “Oh, look, here she comes.”
And there she was, walking in the door and then talking to the maître d’. She was wearing the same well-fitted black slacks as before, but now she had on a colorful red blouse. As she came closer, Jacob noticed that it matched her lipstick. He waved, and she waved back. “Almasi!” he said. “A pleasure to see you again. I see you found yourself a coffee-free shirt.”
“I did indeed,” said Almasi with a nervous laugh.
“Please, sit down,” said Jacob. “Allow me to introduce you to my assistant, Jeremy Sanchez.”
“Good to meet you, Ms. Quinn,” said Jeremy brusquely, reaching across the table to shake her hand as she moved to sit. “Now, let us get down to business, shall we?”
Business? What was this uptight assistant—whose voice Almasi recognized from the phone call earlier—talking about? Here Almasi had thought she was being taken to a nice apology lunch, a “sorry-I-spilled-your-coffee-and-ruined-your-morning” date. But no, of course not. There was always a catch with these people. You could never trust them not to want something from you. Almasi frowned.
“Jer,” said Mr. Adamson, in what sounded like a warning tone. He smiled kindly at Almasi. “I’m sorry my assistant here is being so rude. Let’s order our food first. I recommend the chilled cucumber soup, it’s absolutely delicious.” Mr. Adamson’s charming smile, and gentle tone seemed to melt away the tension in the room. “And please, Almasi, call me Jacob.”
Well, this was not going how she had expected it to at all.
Over the course of the meal, Jacob and Jeremy explained the situation to the bewildered young woman. How she would play his wife for a Ghanaian diamond miner, how she would get to live in the Adamson mansion with him for a month, and how she would be paid one million dollars for her discretion. It was the last fact that made Almasi’s jaw drop. One million dollars? Clearly they were insane. This must be some kind of trick.
Jacob explained that no, it was not a trick. He simply needed a favor, and he could compensate for her trouble.
“But why me, though?” Almasi asked. “Of all of the girls around, the interns, the assistants, the secretaries, even the managers, why would you choose me?”
It was Jeremy who responded. “Mr. Adamson saw the potential for a sort of—how do I put this—chemistry between the two of you. And you are a student, yes?”
Ignoring the chemistry comment for fear of embarrassing herself, Almasi said, “Yes. I have a Bachelor’s Degree in Commerce, and I am applying to grad school this year.”
“Then you’ll be perfect,” said Jacob. “Right, Jeremy? She can even advise me on financial matters.”
Jeremy frowned. “Well, I am not so sure about advising you,” he said, scoffing a little at the idea, “but yes, she is a good match in that sense.” He turned to Almasi. “So, what will it be?”
Almasi didn’t know what to say. “I… how long do I have to decide?”
Jeremy looked at his watch. “About twenty minutes,” he said. “I want to get back to work by two thirty.”
Almasi gave him her best ‘you have got to be kidding’ look.
“Listen,” said Jacob. “This is a really good job, and we need you almost as much as you need the money. We’ll hold the wedding this week, and then you and I will move into the mansion. You will get all sorts of gifts, and your family will no doubt be happy to find that you are marrying someone who will provide for you.
They don’t need to know about the ruse until later, and you will sign a contract promising not to tell them the truth. You will be fed and clothed lavishly and be served by my personal maids, cook, housekeeper, butler; you name it.
We’ll even give you the month off your internship with no problems from your supervisor. Then, at the end of the month, we can make an annulment and go back to normal. But we need you to decide right now.” He looked so earnest.
“All right,” said Almasi. “I just have one question.”
“Yes?”
Her face suddenly felt too hot as she tried to phrase it. “Will I, um…will I be expected to perform, uh… wifely duties?” She hoped they knew what she meant, and by the way Jacob was blushing beet red, he did.
“Well, no. I mean, uh, not if you don’t want them. You will sleep in my room with me to keep up appearances, but as far as sex goes… that’s up to you to decide,” he said, recovering his composure quickly and winking. “You might even get a bonus for it.”
“Hey!” she exclaimed. “I may be agreeing to this arrangement, but I am not a, a—prostitute!”
“Now you have done it,” muttered Jeremy. “Getting her angry. Okay, Jacob, go ahead, forget Jeremy’s advice. Just anger your future bride. That sounds like a great way to start a relationship.”
Jacob laughed. “Okay, sorry.” She really is feisty, he thought. I like that. “Then it’s a deal?”
“It is a deal,” said Almasi. This would certainly be one hell of an adventure.
***
After piles and piles of paperwork, Jacob, Almasi, and Jeremy left the restaurant. Jacob took care of the check and thanked the waiter on his way out, while Jeremy turned to Almasi.
“Pack up your things at your office,” said Jeremy. “I will make a call to your supervisor and give him an excuse. We will have a car sent for you, and you will get a total wardrobe makeover and be fitted for your wedding dress.”
Almasi felt dizzy. Could this really be happening? To her, of all people? She had dreamed of her wedding day, as all young girls did, as a far off, fantasy sort of time, but it had never occurred to her that it would happen so soon. She had been so busy studying and getting good grades that she had never even had much of a chance to date. Of course, there had been a few men who’d shown interest, but nothing serious had happened. Certainly nothing like this.
As she bid Jacob and Jeremy good-bye and took the elevator up to her office floor, anxiety began to sink in. What if she made a terrible wife? What if she was completely unable to keep up the charade? For a million dollars, she told herself sternly, you can and will do anything. And so what if it was a little unconventional? There was nothing inappropriate going on.
It was not really like they were eloping, because she had no intention of having sexual relations of any sort with the man, although the very idea of such things with him did admittedly make her heart flutter a little. Just a little bit. And the marriage would be official and proper. With that thought in mind, Almasi swallowed her fear and went to pack up her things.
***
A limousine arrived at the front entrance at three o’clock, just as she had been promised. When the driver opened the door, Almasi saw that there were already two women sitting in the back seat. One was about her age, with glossy black hair and a cute floral dress with a sweetheart neckline, and the other was an older woman who was dressed somewhat more conservatively in a long blue skirt and a white blouse. They both smiled at her as she stepped into the limo.
“Hi!” said the younger woman. “My name is Yifeng. I will be your personal shopping assistant today. We are giving you a total wardrobe makeover!” She looked excited and enthusiastic, and Almasi couldn’t help but smile back.
“And I am Mrs. Nettle,” said the older woman. “I am here to consult you at the bridal boutique and to make sure that your selection is both beautiful and appropriate. We would not want a media blitz, now would we?”
Almasi was a little bit startled. She had no idea how to respond to such a comment, so she just reached out to shake their hands, first Yifeng, then Mrs. Nettle. Yifeng’s skin was soft, and Mrs. Nettle had a firm grip. “Well, it is a pleasure to meet you both. My name is Alma
si.”
The women laughed. “Oh, we know,” said Mrs. Nettle.
“We’ve read your file,” added Yifeng.
“My… file?” How fast did this company run? It seemed like Almasi had only made her decision minutes ago, and already Mr. Adamson’s —Jacob’s people knew everything about her.
“So, uh… what do you know about my marriage arrangement?” Almasi knew that she was never to divulge any information about her contract. The grumpy assistant, Jeremy, had made that very clear in the restaurant. Then what did these women think was happening, since she had evidently not been in the picture until today?
“Don’t speak a word of it, dear,” said Mrs. Nettle. She leaned in conspiratorially. “What the boss does is his own business. If he chooses a bride, she clearly must be something special.”
“And what a new dream luxury life it must be for you, living as a billionaire’s bride-to-be,” sighed Yifeng. “I can only hope that I will someday make such a fortunate connection. Either that or make the billions myself!”
Mrs. Nettle tutted. “This girl here is one of those damned feminists,” she said derisively, gesturing to Yifeng. “She thinks she can do just as well as any man, and be as successful even though she is just a silly girl.”
Almasi finally spoke up. “I don’t see a problem with that,” she said. “With hard work and perseverance, anyone should be able to accomplish their goals, no matter their gender.”
“Well, you may want to keep that to yourself, dear,” said Mrs. Nettle, pursing her lips. “Some of your bridegroom’s clients and business partners are more traditional folk who don’t want to hear such blabbering from the mouth of a fine young lady.”
Almasi frowned. That’s right, she remembered. Mr. Arko Kumi’s company was all about so-called traditional family values, and he was the reason she was playing this whole wife game in the first place.
Before she could reflect any further, the limousine had stopped, and Yifeng was exclaiming “We’re here!”
The rest of the afternoon was spent in a whirl of dresses, and Almasi soon forgot her concerns. With the generous budget from Jacob, Almasi was able to buy dresses more expensive than some of her heaviest textbooks. One outfit even cost more than her laptop had. Amazed at this new, lush life, Almasi allowed herself to sink into a simple world of colorful swatches of fabric and endless disposable income. And what a carefree world it was.
***
At six thirty, Jacob’s mobile phone began to buzz. It was Jeremy again. “Hello?” said Jacob. “What do you need, Jer?”
“The house is ready. We really had to put a rush on it, but I called in some favors with old staff. Is she on her way?”
“Old Mrs. Nettle says they will drop her off in ten minutes. Breathe, Jeremy. You are completely off the hook now. Go home and have a nice bath or something.”
Jeremy laughed drily. “I am never off the hook. Tell the fiancée I say hello. Give her regards from my rubber duck.” And with that, he hung up.
Jacob shook his head, smirking a little. Jeremy was so tightly wound, but he always got everything done so perfectly that he was worth having on hand. In the ten years since Jacob had inherited his father’s company at age eighteen, Jeremy had always been there for him. He was a good guy, if sometimes a little nuts.
Jacob thanked the driver of the limo and dismissed him from duty. He entered the mansion. It had been years since he’d grown up there. He had so many fond memories forged in the acres of gardens and fields out back, and the endless rooms had been a constant source of fascination and hide-and-seek when he was a young boy. Jacob almost felt wistful that this marriage was not real. If it were not a sham, if he really had a future with a woman, then maybe…
Jacob stopped right there. This marriage was for business, not pleasure. He had a job to do. His job was to be charming and considerate to the woman to secure the diamond deal, and then to make a quiet annulment and go back to his normal life. His playboy, womanizer, one-night-stand life. It was what he liked… right? Of course.
Casual sex was his thing. He was good at it, he enjoyed it, and he never had to deal with messy emotions or annoying co-dependence. He didn’t need commitment, he didn’t need to settle down. Settling down was for future Jacob, and present Jacob was only twenty-eight. He still had plenty of time to have his fun. A real marriage could wait.
After a maid took his coat, Jacob stepped into the foyer and settled down on a sofa. Almasi would be here any minute, and he had to look like the ideal husband. He glanced at the maid’s backside as she walked away. That was one hell of a—no. No. Damn it, he wasn’t like that anymore. He had a fiancée now, and he had to at least behave like a gentleman. This was going to take a lot of effort on his part.
The doorbell rang, and the maid reappeared. He willed his gaze away from her shapely form. Now was not the time. It would not be the time for over a month. He dismissed all thoughts of that sort of stuff from his head, and stood to greet Almasi.
“Hello, my darling,” said Jacob, in an affable tone. As Almasi entered the foyer, his jaw nearly dropped. Of course, she had looked good earlier that day in her work outfit, but now… hot damn. His future wife was beautiful. The bright pink dress she wore hugged her curves in all of the right ways, and she wore dainty high heels and some tasteful white gold jewelry. The only thing that had stayed the same was her hair—still a beautiful natural hair style with short, tight curls. Almasi was stunning. No, she was more than stunning. She was absolutely radiant. And from the look on her face, she knew it, too.
“Good evening, my love,” she said in a carefully rehearsed tone of affection. She played the role so well that Jacob almost wondered if she should have been a theater student instead of a commerce student, after all. She reached a hand out to him, and he drew her close to his body, caressing her briefly. It was all just a show, he tried to tell himself, just a show for the servants so no rumors would start about the oddness of this arrangement. But he could have sworn that he could feel her pulse racing in her wrist, as if she, too, was experiencing the heady mix of attraction and awe that he felt.
Almasi could feel the heat rising to her face. It was good that she was dark enough not to show a blush. On an impulse, she gave him a light peck on the cheek, and then immediately felt horrified, though she tried not to show it. What have I done? she thought. I just kissed a billionaire! She took a deep breath. This man is your fiancé now, she reminded herself. Act like it’s true, and it will be.
Although Jacob couldn’t tell that Almasi was floundering, he decided to break the silence among the staring servants. “Well?” he said, looking at them. “Why are you all gaping? Go back to your work!” There was a bustle of movement as everyone scurried back to their assigned places, and then he and Almasi were alone in the foyer together.
“Since the wedding is tomorrow,” said Jacob, “you will have one night staying in a separate room from me. That may make the transition here easier. I know this is very sudden. It is for me, too.” She looked at him curiously, so he continued. “I haven’t been to this house since I was a child. I grew up here, but it was put out of commission when my parents retired to the country estate we own in France, and now I live on my own in the penthouse. It’s closer to work, and, well… the staffing is easier with only three servants instead of twenty-seven.”
Almasi realized that her mouth had opened a little in surprise, so she promptly closed it and tried to assume a somewhat natural facial expression. But good heavens! Twenty-seven servants? In one house? Even three sounded absurd to her. She had always taken care of herself and her family. Her mother and father worked hard, as had her grandparents who had emigrated from Uganda, risking everything for a better life in the United States of America.
They had been far poorer than she had been before Jacob’s proposal, and even then she was still by no means upper class, or even solidly middle class. She knew she was blessed in many ways; she had enough food to feed herself and her parents, she could pay
the rent and electricity bills on time most months, and because of her hard work and dedication to her academics, she had enough scholarships to pay for school to get her undergraduate degree in commerce.
All of that was changing, now. Everything was suddenly becoming easy. She made a mental note to write a check to her parents after the wedding. They would appreciate the money far more than Jacob and his snobby, affluent parents with their fancy estates in France and their ridiculous behemoth of a jewelry corporation. That much she knew for certain.
Instead of saying any of what was going through her head, though, Almasi smiled graciously and suggested that he could show her where she was staying for the night. When they got up stairs to the bedroom where she would be staying, she found that all of her belongings had already been brought up there, no doubt by one of the maids or other service staff members. The room she had been given was large and designed daintily, with pink roses printed on the wallpaper and a large, fluffy looking pink duvet on the bed. It was like a fairy princess dream, and Almasi smiled.
“It matches my dress,” she said, delighted.
Jacob gazed at her for a long moment. “Yes…” he pondered. “Yes, I suppose it does.”
They made eye contact briefly, and then she looked away. “Well, I suppose I’ll be seeing you at dinner,” she said. She had a funny feeling in her chest, and she needed a moment alone to work through her thoughts.
Jacob seemed to be in some sort of reverie but he snapped out of it.. “Yes,” he said brightly. “Dinner is served at seven o’clock sharp. You will hear the kitchen bell.” He took Almasi’s hand, brought it briefly to his lips, and then turned toward the door. “I’ll be in the master bedroom if you need me. It is just a little ways down the hall, five doors and across. Just knock.” She nodded, and then he left, the door swinging shut after him.
