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I scrunched up my face. “I don’t like the idea of lying to your family. Of accepting your money.” It made me feel icky.

Was I truly no different from my selfish siblings? They wouldn’t have hesitated to take Graham up on his offer. But the idea of accepting money to be someone’s wife felt wrong. It wasn’t like he didn’t have the funds; it was the principle of it.

“Think of it like you’re providing a service. I’m paying you to do a job.”

“Right. To be your fake wife.” I wasn’t sure that was any better.

I still couldn’t believe he was trying to convince me. This seemed so out of character for Graham. Which was exactly why I suspected there was more to it.

Graham wasn’t risk-averse. Hell, he often pushed the brand forward with his innovations and vision. But when it came to his personal life, something wasn’t adding up about this.

“Paying you handsomely, I might add. I would personally cover any renovations of the château not covered by government funding, grants, or prizes. All the money would be put into a trust that would be at your disposal.”

That seemed fair. More than fair.

As to any future operating costs, I supposed I’d cross that bridge if and when I came to it. Hopefully, the revenue from guests would more than cover those costs. But that seemed so far away at this point, it was laughable.

I tried to imagine myself married to Graham and failed. It seemed incomprehensible. Yes, he was attractive. But we’d only ever known each other in a professional context.

He’d never given any indication that he was attracted to me—or anyone, for that matter. I wasn’t sure we could pull this off, even if he wanted to. And that was a big if.

The idea was so very tempting. Unrealistic, but tempting, nevertheless. I mean…to agree to a marriage of convenience to my former boss? It was crazy, right?

I was about to try to laugh it off as a joke, but he said, “I’m serious.” He smoothed his hands down his thighs. “Think about it. You’d be able to restore the château to its full potential. No expense spared.”

Maybe it was crazy. MaybeIwas crazy for even entertaining the idea at all. Or maybe I was chasing my dreams, doing something “outlandish,” as Auntie Jackie had advised?

“Why me?” I finally asked.

He held my gaze. “Because you’re one of the few people I trust.”

His admission sucked the air from the room. Graham’s trust wasn’t freely given.

“Despite what I said about the Huxley hotels on my blog?” I asked.

He blew out a breath. “Maybe even because of it. At least I know you’ll always be honest with me.”

“Okay, but what if you meet someone? What ifImeet someone?” I asked, though it seemed unlikely.

I was already so busy with the restoration, and if Graham and I went through with this, I’d be even more so. Traveling back and forth, pretending to be his wife.

His nostrils flared. “This will never work unless you’re one hundred percent on board. Completely loyal to me for the duration of the agreement.”

The agreement. Not “our marriage.”

“I am, and I would be. But still…two years is a long time to put our lives on hold. I’m almost thirty. I might want to get married for real someday. Have kids.”

“You don’t know if you want that?”

“It requires me meeting the right person first.”

Not that I had time for that. Between traveling for my blog and now taking care of the château, I didn’t have much of a personal life. I’d had a few flings over the years, but nothing serious. I hadn’t had the time or energy for it.

And honestly, the idea of being vulnerable with someone about my alopecia was terrifying. If my family viewed me as a burden, how was I supposed to find a partner who wouldn’t feel the same way? Who would embrace my beauty, baldness and all.

Graham grunted but said nothing. His lack of an answer was infuriating. As if he thought it was unimportant. A minor detail in the grand scheme of things.

“And what about sex?” I asked, when he still hadn’t responded.