With a shrug, he shows his palms. “If nothing else, maybe you deserve a break.”
He’s just thrown down the tired single mom’s equivalent of a lifetime’s supply of crack.
Damn him.
“Two hundred thousand,” he repeats. “No games. Just play the part. Smile. Hold hands. Be convincing.”
As if he can sense an opening, he reaches forward and catches my wrist. “Please.”
My heart pounds.
Two hundred thousand dollars.
That’s enough to pay off my lawyer, get out of my mother’s house, put Paige through a decent college someday.
Enough to breathe again, retrain perhaps, get a better job.
“You said something about going to dinners. How many dinners, and what kind exactly?”
He frowns. “Dinners are dinners, aren’t they? And there will be one a day, as is customary in the United States.”
I plant my hands on my hips and pout. “Thank you for that. What I mean is, what kind of closet would I need?”
He sits up and gestures to my current outfit. “Well, this kind of thing I suppose. Smart. Appropriate for evening events.”
My shoulders lift as I breathe in tightly. “I’m a housewife from California. Ninety-five percent of my closet is casualwear.”
He arches a brow. “Should’ve kept the shirts then, shouldn’t you?”
I’m about to tell him he can take his little plan to hell and burn it, when he pipes up again.
“I will make you an appointment at Saks. Buy whatever you need, on me.”
My eyes almost pop out of my head. “You are joking, right?”
“No,” he says in a solemn voice. “I am not joking.”
My own voice quietens. “Is there a Target concession in Saks?”
I can’t afford to buy a whole new set of clothes for myself but I really don’t want to spend his money, either.
He scrubs a very large hand over his face. “No, and for that, you get a thousand dollar minimum on every outfit.”
“What?”
His hands curl into light fists on the bar. “You’ll be mywife, Erin. And my wife doesn’t wear Target.”
There’s a note of viciousness in his words that makes my heart pump, hard.
“Wh—” I swallow. “What does she wear?”
I swear a frisson of black fades from his eyes, to be replaced by a green-brown hazel softness.Ugh.
“Valentino. Dolce and Gabbana. Ralph Lauren. Givenchy.” His irises puncture my senses. “Thebest, Erin. My wife only wearsthe best.”
I focus on breathing steadily, even though my heart is galloping.
My brain is aghast that I’m actually considering it, but my heart is spinning with excitement. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.
