“You don’t have to justify yourself to me, I don’t plan on ever getting married. It’s a sham,” Emma said, raising the price before I’d even brought it up, “Love? Love’s got nothing to do with it. It is just another transaction.”
“Not going to argue with you on that.” I held my hands up, surrendering the point. “But today, my gran mentioned she’d changed her will. She wanted to give me incentive to get married, so unless I am, I get nothing when she passes.”
Emma had chomped down on another couple of chips as I spoke. Her chewing stopped, she tilted her head and dropped her jaw. Wouldn’t need to explain it twice for her. Good – though I could have done without the view of her half chewed chips.
“You want me to marry you?” she asked after swallowing. A fit of giggles took her.
Once she’d recovered, those Turner blue eyes examined me anew. She leaned forward and rested her elbow against the table, chin on her arm. I met her gaze, not a challenge, but holding my own. She dropped back into her chair, head tilted.
“So, what’s the offer?” She snatched a battered sausage off the tray and took a bite, eyes on me.
“I’ll give you £1,000 for a single signature,” I replied.
She frowned but kept chewing, head shaking. This might have been the first marriage I’d negotiated, but far from the first agreement. You always started with a low ball offer.
“I’m from Washington. That’s a community property state,” she said. “I’d be entitled to 50¢ of every dollar you made and you’d get 50¢ out of all my dollars. A thousand pounds? How about half of the inheritance?”
I’d expected her to drive a hard bargain, but not that hard. Given my grandmothers were both long dead and there was no inheritance, in a way, it wouldn’t have cost me anything to agree. No, I needed the document legal, beyond a shadow of a doubt. Couldn’t have her claim she was cheated. I’d give her everything I offered, probably more when the real game began.
“Five thousand pounds cash, the moment you sign the dotted line,” I countered.
“Fifty thousand.” She tilted her head forward, Turner blue eyes staring a challenge.
Oh, she was no pushover. When the truth came out and the real game began, that’d make her an asset, assuming I gave her a cut of the action. People were a transactional animal to her. Not only did she include herself in that assessment, she reveled in the idea.
“Ten thousand.” I tapped against the table to punctuate the counteroffer. “Five now, five more when I inherit. We’re just talking about signing a piece of paper and that’s almost $15,000.”
“Closer to $14k,” Emma replied and hid her mouth behind her hand, finger tapping on her cheek, “and that is a lot of money. A guy like you, you’ve gotten around. I bet there’s at least a handful of girls whose hearts you’ve broken. Why me? Why not one of them?”
“What do you think I was doing in that pub?” I replied, innocent as a saint. “I’ve gone through the pros and cons of every bird I know, I even considered one of my mate’s mums. Then you stomped into the pub. A foreigner, so you wouldn’t interfere in my life. I can’t say I know you very well but everything I’ve learned about you tells me you’d make an ideal partner in this little scam.”
She pouted. Her Turner blue eyes laid into me, burning for insight. I hadn’t earned her trust, wouldn’t even when I finally stopped lying, but she’d take the money and I’d get one step closer to vengeance.
“Everything you’ve learned about me?” One of her sculpted brows rose. “What nuggets of truth have you gleaned from me in the last hour or two?”
Something about her brought out my competitive streak. I almost blurted out the truth: name, birthdate, Social Security Number and so on. She asked a dangerous question even after I kept my secrets. Almost every time a woman asked a man his honest personal opinion of her, she did not want the truth, only affirmation. The only appropriate answer to ‘does this make me look fat,’ is ‘of course not.’
But Emma had already proven she wasn’t like most women. She didn’t want reassurance, she wanted to understand me, her opponent, at least in this negotiation. If I offered a true assessment, she wouldn’t bite my head off, but could she use it against me? A risk I’d take.
“You called yourself a transactional animal.” I counted off on my fingers. “Seems that means you’re greedy and selfish. That’s why you’re going to accept my offer. You’re also vindictive and not afraid to break the rules.”
Her eyes narrowed as I spoke. Had I miscalculated? Plan B got a little kidnappy. I’d rather avoid that… for the time being. After a few seconds of glaring, her flat lips twisted into a smirk.
“Not sure I could argue with that,” she admitted and her shoulders shook, “and now I’ve learned never to ask you if this dress makes me look fat.”
“Oh, of course not,” I replied. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
“Twenty thousand pounds.” Emma smiled before she popped another chip into her mouth, waiting for my reply.
“Five thousand in cash tonight, the moment you sign the paper,” I offered, then held a hand up to stop her imminent objection, “and another £15,000 when I get my inheritance.”
“So I’d never get the £15,000, then?” she shot back with a head shake and a sigh. “Because I’m sure I’d never hear from you again.”
Oh, she’d hear from me again. When the true game began, I’d need more than her name on the marriage certificate. She’d have to stand by my side even if it took a gun to her back, but that was still far off. I couldn’t share that part of the plan, not yet.
“When we head back to my flat to sign the papers, I’ll let you take my mother’s brooch as assurance,” I said, then pressed my lips together, miming concern. “She died when I was a kid, it’s dear to me.”
If it had been her brooch, the emotions would have rung true. I only had memories to commemorate my family, and precious few at that. The broach Emma would take home, however, belonged to an ex. She’d left it behind one morning, then it got misplaced, forgotten, but it would do… I hoped.
