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“I don’t want to talk to any of them, Nia.”

She gives me an apologetic grimace. “I understand, but as long as they’re coming, it seems smart to get to know these cream-of-the-crop candidates and see if one could be the next Mrs. Evan James Cook. How can you know who’s out there if you don’t look, right?”

Before I can correct her, I hear a knock. Nia hustles across the room and opens the door.

“Hi,” I hear her say. “Welcome. Can I take your coat?”

“Here. So where’s the rich guy who needs a wife? This better not be a scam…”

“Not at all.” Nia rushes to hang the woman’s coat on the tree, then gestures to my office. “Right this way.”

I stand. I haven’t even seen this woman and I already don’t like her. I don’t care what she looks like, how interesting she might seem, or how good she is in bed. She was rude to Nia. That’s a deal breaker for me.

From around the corner, a stranger enters my office. A honey blonde with her tresses in a messy bun. She has black-rimmed blue eyes, an artificial orange tinge from chemical tanning, and an unlikely pout that’s probably the result of lip injections. She’s wearing a red two-piece suit…of sorts. The top is something off-the-shoulder with a ruffle that flirts with her too-large enhancements that I can’t help but wonder if they’re meant to compensate for what she lacks upstairs. The blouse ends at the top of her rib cage. After a strip of bare midriff, the high-waisted pants cling to her like a second skin, ending at the ankle. Her shoes are so sky-high I have no idea how she’s walking.

When she catches sight of me, she pauses and eyes me with approval. “I’m Brittanii with two Is. And two eyes.” She points at the pair on her face and laughs at her own joke.

“I’m Evan.” And I’m not at all amused. “Sit down and tell me about yourself.”

Nia peeks her head in. “Coffee, anyone?”

“Caffeine is, like, bad for you. Do you have any organic green tea, preferably steeped in filtered water? I don’t trust tap. Who knows what they put in there?” Brittanii shudders, then turns to me. “You know what I mean?”

I’m aware that in a dating situation it’s probably polite to agree with her statement, about which I’m basically ambivalent. But I don’t have a fuck to give in order to acknowledge her. “I don’t need a refill, Nia.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you when you’re finished.”

If I didn’t think my assistant incapable of subterfuge and enjoying this farce at my expense, I would be deeply suspicious. But as she closes the door, leaving me alone with Brittanii, I’m unable to ask Nia any of the pointed questions whirling through my head.

“So you’re looking for a wife?” my first candidate says. “What kind of arrangement are you after? I can look pretty. I can hire caterers. I mean, your ad said you were looking for those things. And sex. I’m good with that since you’re not a troll. The ad didn’t say if you were looking for something long-term.”

Is she for real? “How long do you think a husband and wife should be married?”

I’m not really interested in the answer, but if I’m stuck with her for the next hour, I might as well let her horrify me.

“I don’t know. I guess until they both feel like moving on.”

I frown. “How long was your longest relationship?”

She pauses, obviously reflecting. “About eight months.”

“Who usually breaks up with whom?”

“I get bored, you know? Of course, I usually date hot guys who are often poor, so we have nothing interesting to do. I mean, even sex gets stale after a while, right? What about you?”

“I was married for nearly eight years. We dated for two years prior to that.”

“Wow, that’s a long time. But then you got bored? It happens.”

“Actually, I’m single because my wife and unborn child died in a car accident.”

“Oh.” She has the good grace to look contrite. “Well, you don’t seem like you’d be boring since you’re rich and hot. Even if you’re a snooze in bed, if there’s, like, shopping, I’ll be the best wife ever.”

I’m done. Truthfully, I was already disinterested before she opened her mouth, but now I’m completely annoyed. I don’t deal with laziness, sponging, or idiocy well in general. And this woman seems to represent all of the above.

“Did you go to college?”

“Long enough to join a sorority, meet frat guys, and go to parties. Who, but nerds and losers, takes that academic stuff seriously?”