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“I like a woman who isn’t afraid to speak her mind.”
Yeah, right.
“And that’s your basis for marriage?” I asked, trying not to smirk. “I like a woman who isn’t afraid to speak her mind?”
“It’s a start.” He shrugged. “And remember, this is a social experiment. We won't end up stuck with each other ‘happily ever after.’”
“That’s a relief,” I said dryly.
His smile widened, and he looked almost…relaxed—more handsome, less distant, and austere. My heart skipped a beat, but I ignored it. This wasn’t a man to be drawn to. Definitely not a man to marry, even for a social experiment.
But…
My mind started to register all the little things around me. Yes, he looked more relaxed at first glance, but I could see his fingers tapping on the silver pen next to his hand, as if he wanted to pick it up. And even though he was sitting back in that freakishly expensive chair, I could feel a sort of tension, like he wanted to lean forward and grip my hands, hold me there until I gave him the answer he wanted.
No, the answer heneeded.
I crossed my arms. “How important is this to you?”
He hesitated, as if unsure how much he should tell me. “Very.”
Points for honesty at least. Let’s see what he did with what came next. “Then I want more than just security for my parents’ bookshop and a job.”
He picked up the pen and started tapping it, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Really? A permanent position in my publishing house isn’t enough?”
Time for complete transparency for me too. “I’m not even sure Iwantto keep working for you, so no, it’s not enough.” I could find another job. But there were other things I wanted guarantees about before I agreed to something so completely insane. “The rent on my parents' bookstore. It needs to be lowered. Over the last five years, it’s almost doubled, and––”
“Deal. Not a problem,” he replied quickly.
“I’d also like Jami Griffin rehired.”
“Did you have a former life where you haggled in back street markets?” he asked, an unexpectedly wry smile appearing on his face. “Because you sure know how to drive a hard bargain.”
“I know what I want,” I said simply.
At that, his smile faded, replaced by a look of such intensity my mouth went dry. Damn. What would it be like to have that focused on me under other circumstances? Like in bed…
“So do I, Ms. Ellis.” He cocked his head, considering me for a moment. “Okay, I’ll agree to rehire Ms. Griffin, but she’ll be your editorial assistant. Your responsibility. If there are future mistakes, you’ll be the one who fires her.”
Something about the expression on his face made me think that this was a challenge, to see if I could accept that sort of responsibility, or maybe to see if I was going to stand by my request if it meant I might have to fire my friend.
“Understood.” Mouth still dry, I hesitated, then asked the one question that had been burning at the back of my mind from the moment the idea of marriage had been presented. “What about…intimacy?”
He smirked. “Are you asking if I expect sex?”
I blushed, my fair complexion no doubt now the brilliant red of a boiled lobster. “Yes, to be blunt.”
“No, Ms. Ellis. I’m not paying you to sleep with me.” He actually seemed amused by my question. “That would be illegal. Your time and commitment for fifteen months are what I’m paying for. That’s all.” His eyes glittered but he smoothly added, “I won’t ask for anything sexual.”
“All right.” That was one less thing to worry about, but I had another concern that needed to be addressed. Not letting him intimidate me into looking away, I said, “Regardless, I won’t do this if you plan on humiliating me by bed-hopping and leaving me home like a kept woman every night. To me, marriage means monogamy, whether you’re able to have sex with your partner or not.”
“I can respect that.” He tapped the pen again, once, twice, his eyes still watchful, as if he could see clear through me. “Do you need time to think about it?”
I should. I really should. I was a sane, responsible twenty-seven-year-old. Agreeing to a spontaneous social experiment proposal from my boss without taking more than just a couple minutes to ask a few questions.
“Is my parents' store safe if I accept this? There’ll be a contract? Legally binding.” The questions came out without me really thinking about them. I needed to hear him say it again.
“Absolutely.”