By the time six rolls around, the sky has gone darker, and my book is finished without me remembering a single plot point.
Footsteps sound on the stairs, then a knock.
“Dinner,” Ben calls through the door.
“Be right there.”
I set the book aside and stand, smoothing my sweater. Then I head downstairs.
The dining table is set. Plates, glasses, and utensils are already in place, and a bottle of wine is already open. Silas is pulling a roast from the oven, and the smell of garlic and rosemary fills the kitchen.
Evan sets down a bowl of roasted vegetables. Callum pours wine into glasses without asking if anyone wants it.
Ben pulls out a chair for me, and I sit.
The food gets passed around. Plates fill. Forks scrape. For a few minutes, no one says anything.
Then Silas sets down his knife. “We want to ask you something.”
He waits until I’m paying attention.
“Okay.”
I already know what it is. I’ve been turning it over in my head all afternoon, replaying every word from this morning. Ben’s joke that wasn’t really a joke, and the triplets not shutting it down.
“The inheritance clause,” I say.
Silas holds my gaze. “Yes.”
“You want me to help you.”
He glances at his brothers, then back to me. “We want it to be you.”
Even though I saw this coming, hearing him say it out loud is different.
Ben exhales beside me. “They came to me after lunch. Laid the whole thing out. They convinced me it could work, and that it would benefit you, too.” He pauses. “But it’s your call.”
I know what I heard earlier, but I still need some clarification. “You want me to be your pretend wife?”
“Don’t worry, Red,” Callum assures me. “You don’t have to fuck us.”
“Are you fucking serious right now?” Ben explodes.
Callum laughs, then takes a drink of his wine. “I’m only answering a question she’s too afraid to ask.”
Ben shakes his head. “Callum’s an asshole, but he’s right. I wouldn’t have let them near you if this came with physical expectations. That’s not what this is.”
“You’re our best friend’s sister. This is strictly a business deal.” Silas maintains his serious expression. “You’d move in with us. We’d live together. Appear together in public. Make it look like a committed relationship, so you can’t date anyone else. And neither can we. For a year.”
“All three of you,” I clarify.
“All three of us.”
Evan reaches for his wine glass. “It’s temporary. A year, maybe less if we can get the clause removed. After that, you walk away with ten million dollars. Free and clear.”
Ten million.
I thought they were asking me to do this as a favor. I didn’t expect the payout.
