Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 118309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Wheezy breaths break up my reply. “Symptoms of GHB and Rohypnol absorption can last for several hours. My actions were not my own. If they were, I wouldn’t have woken up married.”
Would you listen to me? I’m acting as if I wouldn’t marry this man if he tossed me half a bone with hardly any meat on it. He’s gorgeous, successful, and staring at me like he’d burn the world to find me if I were out of his reach for even a minute. I’d be insane to act like a little part of me isn’t excited that I’ve finally secured his attention.
I’m just confused as to what caused his sudden backflip. It could be the inheritance Aleena stated earlier, but I’m skeptical. Maksim seemed as surprised as me when she blurted it out, and he’s already immensely wealthy, so why marry a woman he’s pushed away as often as he’s pulled in for a bit of extra coin?
He could end up worse off when he learns my debt isn’t chump change. I am hundreds of thousands of dollars in the hole, and the shame associated with not wanting to admit that to anyone, much less a man I’ve had a fascination about since the moment we met, has me blurting out, “I think we should organize an annulment.”
Maksim recoils as if I slapped him across the face. “No.” The swiftness of his denial is shocking, but his quick exodus from the bed is more devastating than alarming. “What’s done is done, and it is too late to change it.”
“You honestly can’t want to go through with this. I’m a stranger. A fucking mess.” When none of my concerns cause a single snippet of worry to flare through his eyes, I give honesty a whirl. “I am up to my eyeballs in debt.”
“Not anymore, you’re not.” He misses my O-formed mouth since he spins to gather his crumpled suit jacket from the back of the chair. “Your credit cards were paid in full this morning, and your student loans will be handled first thing Monday.” I wonder just how much I shared with this man last night when he adds, “The other matter will take a little longer to sort out, but I’m hopeful it will be finalized as soon as possible.”
“Your generosity is appreciated, but I can’t accept it.”
He puts on a dark pinstriped jacket that matches his pants and then spins to face me, fiddling with the lapels on the way. “Why?” His expression is deadpanned, like he can’t understand my apprehension.
“Because…” It takes me a minute to sort through the slosh in my head to find anything decent. “Because this isn’t how negotiations work. Even in an arranged marriage, both parties are supposed to benefit from the agreement. It isn’t meant to be one-sided.”
“Then there isn’t an issue, because our arrangement”—he snarls his last word—“isn’t one-sided.”
“How isn’t it one-sided? I get my loans wiped, and you get—”
“You,” Maksim interrupts, his tone as stern as the firm line of his lips. “I get you.”
I can’t respond to that. What woman in their right mind could? He just placed me onto a pedestal so high I’m not sure I will ever get back down.
Although I can now blame some of my dizziness on altitude sickness, not even the heights of Mt. Everest could have me forgetting my obligations.
“My grandparents live in Myasnikov. I can’t leave them, and they’re not well enough to travel.”
The tears I’m struggling to hold back come close to falling when Maksim replies, “I know, and they won’t need to go anywhere. I will make arrangements to work out of Myasnikov this morning.”
“You would do that for me?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. Shock does that to you. It has you speaking without fear of repercussions—and waking up married to a stranger.
I’d rather Maksim vocalize his decision than use a gesture, but I am still delighted when he nods. “It was part of the terms we negotiated last night.”
It hurts to be reminded that our marriage is a sham for benefits, but I hide my disappointment well. “What other terms did we agree to?”
“We wrote them down.” He pulls a sheet of paper out of the breast pocket of his suit jacket and hands it to me. “Your terms are written in pen at the top. Mine is in pencil at the bottom.”
My heart whacks my chest when I open the folded-up piece of paper. My terms are lengthy but not overly demanding after remembering this is an arranged marriage. They’re more necessities of life than dramatic diva demands, but Maksim’s minimal requests make them seem obsessive.
Well, I shouldn’t really say requests since he only has one.
He wants us to share the same bed every night.
The surge in my pulse thuds in my voice when I ask the motive behind his demand.