“You can’t tell anyone about this contract.”
I purse my lips. "I can't lie to my sister. Briar knows me better than anyone."
"If the reasons behind our arrangement leak, it puts my restaurant and my inheritance at risk."
"She'll know I'm holding something back." I rub at my temple. "She always does."
He runs his thumb under his lower lip.
"What if you tell her that we met years ago and never forgot each other. That when you came to work for me, the pull was still there, and we decided to get married. That it benefits the both of us."
It's the kind of story I'd want to be true.
The worst part is how little of it is invented.
I push the thought away. This money will ensure Freya can attend The Royal Drawing School. That’s all that matters. If Briar were in my position, wouldn’t she do the same for me?
He taps his fingers on his thigh. “What do you say?”
19
James
I’m desperate for her to sign this arrangement.
It has to be her. Because she was in the video. There can’t be anyone else in the role of my wife in this pretense.
I still remember that night at the club when we met. I can see the way the lights caught her legs, and the way she looked in that dress. The vanilla and coconut scent of hers, which I’ve carried in my memory since. I've never forgotten how her curves fit in my arms. Her little sighs when she melted into me as I kissed her.
I was a Marine with supposedly iron discipline, but the emotions she evoked in me were overwhelming.
Seeing her again brought all of my old feelings for her to the surface. But I’m determined to hold them in check.
I drag my fingers through my hair and force myself to be patient as she turns the page.
“Any other questions?” I drum my fingers on my thigh, trying to hold onto my frustration.
She hesitates, then turns back a page on the agreement.
“This.” She points at another clause.
The parties expressly agree that no emotional involvement shall arise from this marriage.
“Is it really possible for an agreement to govern our emotions?”
“Absofuckinglutely.”
She seems taken aback. “You sound very confident.”
“I have plenty of practice keeping my feelings under control.”
Her forehead furrows. “I don’t.”
I run my fingers through my hair. “That clause is there to protect us both. The marriage may feel real, but it isn't."
This agreement is the antidote to the years when I was unable to push her out of my mind. I'll spend time with her. I'll see her faults. I won't romanticize her in my mind.
The clause will hold where my willpower can’t. I am not going to let myself get attached to her.
