After we order our meals, the tension fades, and I decide to take the bull by the horns. “So, you mentioned you had a proposal for me. Color me intrigued.”
He chuckles nervously, running a hand through his short hair. “Always straight to the point. Some things never change, huh, Pens?”
I shrug. “What can I say? I’m a no-nonsense woman.”
The waiter returns with our food, and I glance at my watch.That was fast.
“I want to start by saying that no matter what your answer is, I’ll always appreciate you. And I want us to stay friends, even if you say no. This isn’t an all-or-nothing kind of thing,” he says, cutting into his steak.
I raise a brow, my silverware frozen mid-air.
“It’s nothing bad. I promise,” Easton says with a reassuring smile. “This past summer, I found out that when I was granted access to my trust fund at twenty-five, I didn’t actually receive the full amount.”
My eyes widen, and a crooked grin spreads across his face. “Right? I thought after a hundred million dollars, that was it—that I’d gotten everything my family was going to pass down to me. But Carter, my oldest brother, found a hidden clause in Grandpapa’s will. If I get married before my thirty-sixth birthday, I’ll receive an extra one hundred and fifty million.”
My silverware hits the table with a loud clatter. I try to swallow, but it goes down the wrong pipe, and I start coughing.
“Jesus, Pen. Are you okay?” Easton asks, staying seated while I feel like I’m about to pass out.
“Wow.” It’s all I manage after taking a sip of water, my breathing slowly returning to normal.
I lock eyes with him. Is he really thinking what I think he is? Fuck, that would be reckless—not to mention potentially dangerous. The last thing I want is to get caught up in some kind of fraud.
Is that why he’s been acting so sweet? Throwing compliments my way? I let out a slow breath, the pieces finally clicking into place.
“What do you say, Pens? Want to be my wife?” he asks so casually that I almost laugh.
Instead, I blink at him. “As a ruse? I’m not sure I understand why you’d need another trust fund. Did you lose everything you originally got, or can’t you make investments anymore?”
His smile falters for a second, but he recovers quickly. “We’d be married for a year, maybe two. We’d keep living our normal lives. Show up together at charity balls and fundraisers. Tell people you’ve found fulfillment helping underserved communities in the small town where you work, and I’m the supportive husband backing your dreams. Then, when you’re ready for your next project, we quietly call it quits.”
Of all the ways I imagined my life turning out, this wasn’t one of them.
Could it really be that simple? No expectations beyond playing the role of the perfect wife he can parade around town?
Then why didn’t he answer my question?
I know Easton is loaded—probably even more than I am. But if this is really about securing money, then hey, more power to him. Who am I to judge?
Besides, if helping him means making sure his grandfather’s money goes where it was originally intended, rather than into greedy hands, I should want to help.
Right?
So why does every instinct in my body feel uneasy about this?
Because no matter how logical this arrangement might sound, it goes against everything I believe in. Everything about the way I live my life.
I can’t even imagine how heartbroken Mami would be if I got married only to turn around and get divorced months later. Not that she’d ever want to see me unhappy, but the second I got married, she’d start talking about grandkids and how she isn’t getting any younger.
And as much as I’d love to help Easton, this wouldn’t just affect him.
It would turn my entire life upside down.
“What about my family? Can I tell my parents the truth?” I ask, surprising myself. Am I seriously considering this?
I tap my temple gently, making sure my brain’s still functioning. How can I think one thing and say the complete opposite?
“It’d be best if we keep it between us,” he says. “I don’t want my family finding out I’m marrying you just to get my inheritance.”
