I refused to let myself ponder why I cared so much about how she reacted to my proposal—because that was what it was, a proposal. Not in the romantic sense, but a proposal to solve her residency issues. A business proposal. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Perhaps I should have made that clear instead of just blurting the words out like an imbecile.
“You’re not joking, are you?” she whispered. “You actually mean it.”
I nodded, not quite trusting my voice.
“Henry … you know you don’t have to?—”
“I want to.” I cleared my throat. “I have the capacity to solve this for you, and I’d like to offer my … services.” My cheeks heated. I waited for her to tease me about it, but it seemed I’d shocked her enough that she didn’t notice.
“Look, I probably could have explained myself a bit better. You said you don’t want to be forced into a marriage where you would feel trapped or controlled by your spouse—like you were with that woman who’s been harassing you.” I squeezed my knees until my knuckles ached. “What I’m offering would be contractual. Transactional, I guess.”
Her frown deepened. “What does that even mean?”
Sweat slicked my palms and my mouth went dry, but I pushed on. “I mean, I wouldn’t put any … sordid expectations on you. It would be a marriage for show only. We’d remain married long enough to secure your permanent residency, and then we could have a simple, amicable divorce.”
“You’d actually marry me, for like … years, I guess it takes to get permanent residency? And you’d be okay with that? What if, in that time, you met someone you wanted to marry for real?”
My blush deepened. “I wouldn’t. I won’t.”
She arched an eyebrow. “You can’t know that. It makes no sense. Well, it makes loads of sense for me … but what areyougetting out of this?”
“I get to fix your problem. And … I get to take myself off the market for other women.”
“You say that like it’s a good thing,” she muttered.
“It is.”
I didn’t want to hurt her feelings by recounting the slew of awful texts I’d gotten from Cadence that afternoon. She’d called Irina every synonym for whore under the sun, accused her of being a gold digger and warned me that I was too ‘naïve’ around calculating women. Apparently, I was about to be taken to the cleaners by the first woman who tricked me into thinking she had real feelings for me.
Did some small part of me want to do this to rub it in Cadence’s face? To exact revenge on her for the hurt she’d dealt me six years prior? Possibly.
But more than anything, I just wanted to help Irina. Somewhere deep down—so deep I couldn’t fully untangle it—I knew I could trust her. She seemed like a good person, and she deserved my help.
“I think you are downplaying the benefits of being officially off themarket when you’re a wealthy man of marrying age,” I said wryly, hoping that would be enough to assuage her.
She snorted. “Okay then, Mr Darcy, you want the husband-hunting spinsters off your back.”
“You’re a Jane Austen fan?” I asked, shock making my words sharp. Irina laughed, a light, tinkling sound that had heat blooming in my gut.
“God, no. My best friend, Kat, makes me watch that movie with her like, once a month. I think it’s a premenstrual thing. She gets hormonal and needs her fix of ‘Mr Darcy’s flexing hand’.”
Her hand came up to her mouth, fingers sliding along her plump lower lip. I followed the movement, riveted.
“Do you really think it will work?” she asked, voice soft, uncertain. “I mean, will it stop them deporting me?”
I scratched my chin. I wasn’t going to lie to her about this. “We’ve got a few things to sort out. First, your visa’s already expired—that’s the big one. But I have a contact. I might be able to pull some strings with the paperwork. Leave it with me.”
My eyes flitted up, meeting hers through the screen. It was easier, this way, to make eye contact. It felt less raw, less overwhelming.
“That is … if you want to enter into this with me?” I added, heart thrumming. “I mean, if you’d prefer to marry a woman, if that will be more believable for your acquaintances?—”
“I’ll marry you, Henry.” She beamed, and my own lips tugged up involuntarily in response. “And for the record, I’m bisexual.”
Something that had been tight in my chest since earlier in the day loosened, and I let out a gust of breath. “Well … that’s fortuitous.”
Her musical laugh lit up the synapses of my brain. “So, you’ll work out the details? When is this happening? How soon can we tie the knot?”
