Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
He nods. “It is, which is why I’m offering you the chance of a lifetime. Six months, one million , and a whirlwind romance that no one saw coming. You’ll be swept away, given everything you could ever desire. And, at the end of it, a doctor will declare that you’re not capable of having children, and that will be that. An annulment and everything will be saved. You’ll be that much richer, and everyone’s problems will be solved.”
Well, shit on two sticks.
I was wrong. Bradford’s not a lion. He’s a wolf, and he’s looking at me like he knows I have a shit ton of very real problems and very real debts. A sister who is sick for real and a mother who is going to work herself into a literal grave. He can’t know that, can he? There are a thousand women who would do this for him. Anyone. He would just have to ask.
“Why me?” Somehow, that comes out past one heck of a dry throat problem. But I have to be sure. I can’t just say no. Not when I’m in the position I’m in, even if it makes me the damsel in distress to his cliched grandmother and her horrible token will.
“Because you’re a good person, Everleigh. We’re not strangers. I know how generous and good you are, and I know you’re a hard worker. That you’re brilliant. I can’t just choose someone off the street or someone I know. I know you’ll say you’re no one and that you’re not in my league or on my radar, but that’s the reason I chose you. It has to look real. In the end, if it doesn’t work out, well, that’s very unfortunate. No one can accuse us of frauding the will if a secret romance has taken place here in the office. No one will fault me for wanting to keep it under wraps, and yes, we had to push things up because of the will and all that…”
Wow. Here, I thought he barely knew my name, but now that he said it, it’s like red velvet cake on his tongue. All sweet and sensual and exotic. Yes, that’s about the extent of my fun and life experiences because I really do think red velvet takes it up a notch, and I know it’s so five years ago or whatever because that ship has gone and sailed, but I can’t help it. I really, really like it, even if it’s just basically a really good chocolate cake with a fancy name.
Shit, wait. He just asked me to be his fake wife, and I’m swooning over how he said my name? What’s wrong with me? “Whoa, come again with that. No one will believe it. And I am no one. I’m your secretary. How embarrassing.” I feel like I’m suffocating. The walls in here are closing in. Bradford is closing in. Life is closing in. My numb ass is closing in.
He shrugs, and my god, he totally has this all planned out. How long did it take him to come up with this? “Everyone loves a good old-fashioned love story. It will all play out the way it’s supposed to play out.”
“Back up about fraud and the will. I think it would be rather obvious.”
He shrugs again like it’s no big deal and as though people don’t go to jail for things like this. “A real doctor, real opinion, real facts. Hard to contest that.”
My god, I’ve just been handed the very thing I spent so much time dreaming about. The man. And a way to fix all my family’s problems. His granny might have been unbelievable, but this is very real. If I don’t take this chance, what else am I going to do? Let my sister suffer? Let my mom work herself into a literal early grave? Keep working two jobs myself? Stay exhausted all the damn time? We’re one disaster away from everything folding in on us. As it is, we’re barely keeping our heads above the black, ominous ocean of poverty.
Money up front. Be smart. Even just fifty to start with would be a huge help. And insurance. Then, whatever happens after six months happens. If they lose all their money, then I’m still fifty ahead, and Heather gets taken care of for six months at least.
“Fifty,” I blurt, trying to sound like I’m all sophisticated and ready to deal and that this isn’t my desperate voice and face, but I do just sound like I’m losing it a little. This is a lifeline. In fact, this is more than a lifeline. This is a chance. “Fifty up front. Then the rest at the end of the six months and health insurance for me and my family. Also, anything that I’m given, I get to keep at the end.” I sound like a horrible gold digger, but it wasn’t me who came up with this. If I weren’t desperate, I would laugh this off as a huge joke, and I’d be giving my assurances that I’d get him out of this mess like I’d get him out of a lunch he didn’t want to go to. I’d have a list of people willing to fake-marry him by noon, and it’s just after eleven now. I’d have everything taken care of and the deal sealed by the end of the day. Because I’m good like that. I am magic with schedules and office stuff, and I’m a great assistant. He’s not wrong about that.