“Most married couples do.”
“This won’t work.”
“Why not? It’s a fake marriage. We can sign pre-nups. Get divorced amicably when it’s revealed that you’re actually a rabid soul-eating witch in disguise and we both win. Neither of us will get any part of what we want without each other. And there is a couple looking round next weekend.”
I hated losing. And given there wasn’t much difference between being married three times or four, I wasn’t sure if there was much to lose by taking him up on his hair-brained idea.
“We need to discuss it further.” I spat the words out and then took a long swig of my mojito.
“That’s not a no.”
“It isn’t a yes either.”
But it was probably going to be.
8
Liam
“Sophie Slater? Isn’t she the blonde businesswoman with an amazing rack?”
Every so often, Wes made me consider my life choices, especially ones involving the decision to keep him in work.
“The business woman who owns the spa chain. The really exclusive one.”
“And has a pair of tits you can only dream about…”
“Stop there. Saying shit like that’s going to get you fired or in court and being sued.”
“You’ve seriously persuaded her to marry you? So you can buy this place? Have you lost your freaking mind? Unless you are going to get to put your…”
“Seriously, Wes, stop.”
“Stopping, stopping. I was only kidding.”
He seriously wasn’t. It was a good thing he was decent at his job, and when he was dealing with a woman he was generally very well behaved. His wife was lovely. Sensible, sweet, hardworking, and yet she still put up with Wes. I never asked her why, just in case I opened a can of worms.
“Nothing’s finalised. She kind of agreed last night. We’re discussing it later. But it looks like a solution.” I tried to keep him serious.
“It won’t hurt your reputation, but you’re going to have to come up with a back story. It will hit the media. She isn’t a celebrity, but she is known and there is interest in her success. In fact, it’ll probably be good for your reputation. Shame it won’t be for real.”
I wasn’t having those same thoughts. I’d looked at the plans of the house this morning and figured we could separate the building into two distinct spaces, minimising the amount we had to see each other. A quick divorce if we actually had to go through with the wedding would be an explanation for splitting the property. It seemed straightforward.
I heard Wes shout something at someone else, probably one of his employees. Then his words became unmuffled. “So what’s she like, this Sophie? There’s a lot to sort out here and we’ll need to get her properly background checked. Though I doubt she’s after your money. She has enough of her own.”
Something in me felt rankled at his suggestion that she could be. Whatever I thought of Sophie, I didn’t think she was a gold digger. “Check her out but I don’t think that’ll be on her agenda.”
“So what is her agenda?”
“This building. She wants it.”
“Right. There are other buildings in Iceland. Or you know, you could just have your own built. Not like you couldn’t afford it. Why are you so set on this one?” He sounded doubtful.
I didn’t know. Maybe it was because Sophie was so adamant she wanted it. It was a challenge. I liked the lagoon and where the building was.
“It feels right. And the words and music are coming easy when I’m here.”
There was a sigh. A loud one. “It isn’t the worst idea you’ve ever had. It will be good for your image right now. What about a ring?”
