“And what about sex?”
“What about it?”
“A sexless marriage isnota marriage. People will know, and I am not wasting your hotness on a lifetime of abstinence just for your career or my bank account.” She tried the puppy-dog pout on him. “Look, you’remyarm candy, too.”
“They’ll only know you’re not getting any if you fail to curate your social media.” Again, he sighed, expecting this response. “Look, I know sex is important to you, but it’s not to me.” ... because I don’t love you. “So, no. You’ll have a generous monthly allowance to make up for the lack of carnal pleasure.”
“I have my own proposal: sex on demand, the allowance, and three years, not ten, from today for the win.”
“How about ... sex quarterly, the full allowance, and seven years.”
“I counter weekly sex beginning in five years. You can’t screw me twice like you did then expect me to wake up with amnesia. I may not love you, but I sure as hell am not an idiot to letthatgo to waste and have to wait forever for it.”
Chuckling, he pitched his final offer. “Six years and a thirty-percent decrease of allowance, once-a-month sexual relations, which start on our wedding night. Not before. Take it or leave it.”
“Hard bargain. Okay, I’ll take it but if you breach that clause of the contract, I won’t take you to court.” She grinned.
“I’m sure you won’t but, I assure you, I’ll stick to the agreement—unless, of course, you have difficulty conceiving. Which brings me to the issue of children. Do you even want kids?”
“Absolutely.”
“Good. On page seven of the pact, I’ve outlined the details. I would like two children before your thirty-fifth birthday. I was going to suggest in vitro, but given our negotiation, we’ll plan for intercourse accordingly. Of course, we will be using extraprotection when we do have sex—oncea month. It’s up to you to choose the type of birth control you want to use.” He made a notation on page seven.
“That’s very generous of you, Master.”
“You know what I mean. It’s a binding agreement, and I have to consider all things. And to be clear, neither of us are ‘waiting’ for the other. Go on with your life and make better choices. This contract is only a ‘what if’ plan if we don’t have someone and we want non-romantic companionship after six years of singlehood.”
“That’s reasonable. Okay, then, here’s another thing for you to consider—what kind of car do I get?”
“Whatever you want, and as a sign of good faith I’ll buy it for you at the commencement of the contract in addition to the engagement ring.”
“A ring! Yes! Can I pick it out myself?”
“You know which ring you’ll get.”
“Thatring? The platinum Cartier cushion-cut ice in the box on your dresser?”
“I saw you try it on. It fits, so all six and change carats will be yours at engagement. I have no need for it otherwise.”
“Awesome! Is it natural or lab grown?” she asked.
“What do you think?”
He thought she’d have a heart attack when he told her the news, but she held back her glee. Still, he could see the foam forming inside her mouth. The girl loved bling, even if she wore cheap knockoffs.
“Not that I mind, but this contract seems awfully one-sided in my favor. What’s in it for you?” she asked.
“As Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy you will have all the opportunities, connections, and wealth that a love-match would have—”
“And don’t forget bedroom privileges.”
Rolling his eyes, he said, “Yes, bedroom privileges, too ... but you must agree to remain married and cohabitating with me until the kids leave for college, in case I plan on getting involved in politics. If you cause a scandal by openly cheating, you’ll get a meager lump sum pre-nup settlement calculated by the number of months married minus the total allowance previously paid.”
“Jeez, you’re merciless.”
He grinned. “Thanks. If you think this is cutthroat, you should see me with clients seeking capital. You’re my friend, so I’m going easy on you.”
“Easy? You’re making me promise to only have sex with my husband once a month. In two days, you have seamlessly slipped back to the William of old before you hooked up with what’s her name.”
