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“I don’t date.”

“I’ve heard.”

“Don’t need a date. Need a wife.”

“How romantic.”

“Romance isn’t part of the deal.”

I slide another piece of paper toward her.

She looks at it. “What’s this?”

“Offer.”

“You already wrote one?”

“Had my attorney do it this morning.”

Her head snaps up.

“You called your attorney at seven in the morning?”

“Six fifteen.”

“You’re a psychopath.”

“He bills enough to answer.”

She picks it up. “One hundred thousand dollars?”

“Immediately.”

Her eyes move down the page.

“Separate finances.”

“Yeah.”

“I keep the money even if we divorce.”

“When we divorce.”

Something shifts across her face.

“After one year,” I continue, “we walk away. No claim against my company. No claim against my property. I don’t touch the lodge.”

“And I have to live with you.”

“Yeah.”

“Where?”

“My cabin.”

“On the north ridge?”

“Part of it.”