Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“You could have fooled me.”
A knock at the door saved my reply. I rose to my feet. “Dinner is here. Read the contract—it’s very simple. We can discuss it and other things after we eat.”
When she opened her mouth to protest, I slammed my hand on the counter. “Stop arguing with me, Katharine. We’re having dinner, and you’re going to eat. Then we’ll talk.” I spun on my heel and headed to the door, exasperated. Why was she so against accepting a simple meal? She was going to have to get used to accepting many things for this to work. I slipped my hand in my pocket, encountering the small box I had hidden away. If she was unsure of dinner, she was going to hate what I had in store for her after.
Dinner was quiet. She read the contract and asked a few questions, which I answered. She vacillated when I handed her a pen, but signed the documents, watching as I did the same.
“I have two copies. One for each of us. I’ll keep them in the condo safe, for which I’ll give you the combination.”
“Does your lawyer have a copy?”
“No. This is an arrangement between us. He knows about it, but he is bound by client confidentiality. We have the only two copies. Once this is over, we can destroy them. I had them drawn up for your benefit.”
“All right.”
I handed her a box. “This is your new cellphone. You’ll have to give yours up when you resign, so now you have one. I programmed my personal number in there so you can reach me. You can text freely on it.”
She bit her lip, accepting the box. “Thank you.”
“How much stuff do you have to move in?”
“Not much.”
“What about breaking your lease?”
“It’s month-to-month. I guess I’ll lose the last one.”
I waved my hand. “I’ll cover it. Should I hire a moving company for you?”
She shook her head, her eyes downcast. “It’s only a few boxes.”
I frowned. “No furniture?”
“No. Some books, a few personal pieces, and my clothes.”
I spoke without thinking. “You can donate your clothes back to Goodwill since I presume most of them came from there anyway. I’ll be purchasing you a new wardrobe.”
Her cheeks flushed, eyes flashed, dark and angry, but she said nothing.
“I’ll pick up your boxes and bring them here when we move forward.”
I handed her another envelope. “This is your new bank account and debit card. I’ll make sure there are appropriate funds in it at all times.”
She accepted the envelope with a shaking hand.
“I need you here as much as possible so we can get used to each other and talk. Tomorrow we can go over the lists and ask questions, fill in the blanks.”
“Okay.”
“Saturday morning, I want you here early. I have arranged an appointment for you to get ready for the barbeque. Do your hair and makeup. In fact, you may want to stay over Friday night, to save you the trip.”
Her gaze flew to mine. “Stay over?” she repeated, a slight tremor in her voice.
I stood up. “Let me show you the place.”
She didn’t say a word during the tour. I showed her the guest rooms, the den, and the private gym located at the other end of the condo on the main level. Upstairs, she was decidedly nervous when I showed her the master bedroom.
I indicated the guest room across the hall. “That one has a private en suite. I assume you’d like that room.”
Her shoulders seemed to loosen. “You don’t, ah . . .”
“I don’t what?”
“You don’t expect me to sleep in your room,” she stated, sounding relieved.
I smirked at her uncertainty. “Miss Elliott, this is a business arrangement. Outside these walls, we will appear as a couple. We’ll hold hands, stay close, do whatever other couples do who are in love.” I waved my hand in the air. “In here, we are real. You have your space; I have mine. I won’t bother you. I expect nothing from you.” I couldn’t help the dry chuckle that escaped. “You didn’t really think I’d want to sleep with you, did you?”
Her head snapped up, and she glared at me. “No more than I’d want to sleep with you, Mr. VanRyan.” Turning on her heel, she marched down the hall, her footsteps small thumps on the hardwood floor.
I followed her, still smirking. When we reached the living room, she whirled around, her eyes flashing.
“You asked me to do this, Mr. VanRyan. Not the other way around.”
“You agreed.”
She crossed her arms, anger pouring off her body. “I’m doing this, because at the moment, I have no other choice. Your decisions have directly affected my life, and I’m trying to keep up. I hate lying, and I’m not a good actress.”
“What are you saying?”
“If you’re not even going to attempt to be polite, or at least be a decent human being, this isn’t going to work. I can’t turn off my emotions that quickly.”