On One Condition
“Is it even legal for someone to require you to marry these days?” She stood and paced, her mind racing. “It just seems so…antiquated.”
“It is. I assume it’s legal, since the lawyer didn’t mention any possibility of fighting the addendum in court. I’m sure he would have informed me if the situation were otherwise.”
“Speaking of which…why didn’t you see this sub-clause?”
she asked, leaning forward. “How did both you and a team of lawyers miss this?”
His gaze slid away from hers. “I’ve never really read the will.”
Her eyes widened. “You’ve never read the will? Are you kidding me?”
“I have people who do that for me. Until now, they’ve done an excellent job,” he said. He looked back at her tentatively. “I suppose this is God’s way of showing me I need to get more involved in my personal affairs.”
“You think?” She shook her head. “And your business, too. For someone with a lot of money, you sure are naïve about the way things work.”
“I said I’d pay more attention. What more do you want from me?” He rubbed his eyes and released a drawn-out sigh.
“I assure you, I’ve learned my lesson. Can we get back into the topic at hand—you marrying me?”
“Yeah, I guess.” She shook her head. “So, when faced with this situation, you thought I’d be the best option? What gave you the impression that I was a money-grubbing whore?”
He blinked. “I don’t think you are. That’s why I want you.”
“Well, you can’t have me.” She rose to her feet, rubbing her damp palms on her skirt. “There. Now you’ve narrowed down your list by one. Should make it a little easier, right?”
He shook his head, eyeing her. “If you say yes, then it would be easy.”
“No. Go find some lady who worships you, explain the circumstances, then divorce. I’m sure she’d say yes if she was walking away holding some cash.”
Arching a brow, he chuckled. “Are you insinuating I should buy myself a bride?”
“Sure. Why not? Gentlemen have been doing the same for years. Your ancestors included, I’d bet.” She fought down distaste at the thought of him married to someone else. She had no right to those feelings—nor did she want them.
He ran a hand over his jaw. “The will states we must live together in matrimony for at least one year before any separation is allowed.”
“Damn. He must have known you’d think of the fake marriage.”
“He thought ahead on everything. Especially when it involved me.”
“At least he didn’t demand a baby, too.”
“Oh, there’s something about heirs in there. If the wife provides an heir, she will get a stipend for life. Extra incentive for her to drag me into bed with her greedy little claws, I suppose.” He fisted his hands. “How could he do this to me?”
She couldn’t help but admire the father’s cunning, even if his methods were a little questionable. His outdated plan was beyond underhanded, but she had to give the man credit for thinking everything through.
“I’m sorry. Looks like you’re gonna have to find a wife.
And stop looking at me!” she snapped.
“Why?”
“People don’t get married like this. There’s supposed to be love. Commitment.”
“You told me I should find a woman and ask her to marry me. Why is it okay for me to marry someone I don’t love, but not acceptable for you?” He caught her wrist, drew her close, and caressed her cheek. “I know the ideal reason for marriage is love…but sometimes circumstances can change our dreams. Sometimes, we must make allowances.”
“I guess,” she answered uneasily. His gentle touch distracted her, making it hard to concentrate. Her stomach clenched when he licked his lips. Her eyes followed the dart of his tongue, focusing on the wet sheen it left behind.
“My parents married each other because their parents wanted them to. They were happy their whole lives. Did your parents love each other?” he asked.
“Huh?” Shaking her head, she forced her attention back to his words, instead of his mouth. “Maybe at some point. But not at the end.”
“See?” he said, dropping his hand from her cheek. “Even when people marry for love, it falls apart more often than not.
We would have a step up on the couples who marry for love.
We will have rules. Expectations.”
Oh, God. She almost wanted to say yes. Almost wanted to ease the torment haunting his eyes. This? Was bad. Really bad. With a grimace, she gestured to the easel. “When do the graphs and charts come into play in this whole mess?”
He tore his gaze from hers and sighed. “Okay. Exhibit A.”
He turned to the chart.
“I can’t believe you actually did this.”
He turned beet red, running his free hand through his hair. Clearing his throat, he charged onward. “There are three hundred and sixty-five days in a year. We would need to spend that long married, living together, to meet the terms of the will. If we manage to make it through the year without killing each other or going insane, you’d get an amount equal to a year’s accumulation of my total net worth. My monthly income is here, in this section.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You realize that’s…” She did some quick calculations. “…three million dollars, right?”
He nodded curtly. “In addition to said income, I’d also donate a million to a charity of your choice—such as the school—no questions asked. I’d also purchase a house of your choice, in your name only.” He paused, flipping the page over. “We’d have to live here for now, in this house, due to my work. But since you’d be giving up your apartment, you wouldn’t need to worry about the end of the year. This house is actually closer to the school. Shorter commute. No more buses.”
“You really thought this through, didn’t you?” she said, shaking her head. Graphs. He’d actually made graphs. She didn’t know whether to laugh or kiss him. “Wow. Just…wow.”
“It’s the perfect solution. We’ve already established we, um, get along. I like you. The year will pass by quickly if you’re by my side. And I know we could put my fortune to good use. You would make sure of it.” He smiled, putting down the pointer he’d been using to sit beside her. “You’d have to attend social functions with me, naturally. All your clothing and jewelry will be completely covered. You need only show up.”