“So here's how it's going to be. There are going to be some requirements that accompany this engagement and marriage.”
“Now wait a minute,” I started to protest. “I don't think it's fair that you're going to tell me what I can and can't do in my own marriage.”
“Be quiet.”
My mouth snapped shut. I wished he'd stop treating me like a child.
“First, you've made your bed and you're going to lie in it.”
Oh shit. I really hoped that didn't mean what it sounded like.
“There will not be serial engagements where you propose, get engaged, then break it off a few weeks or months later, hoping to reset the clock on the timeframe I originally gave you.”
I hadn't even thought of that idea, but if I had, that's definitely what I would've done.
“You said this Livie is your fiancée, so she's the one you're going to marry. If you break this engagement or have her break it off, you're done. And since you've already found her, there's no need to wait six months since you won't be calling off the wedding. You will get married this Saturday at the courthouse. If she wants a big wedding, you can have a ceremony whenever you wish, but it will be legal before next week.”
This was getting worse. I was so screwed.
“I'm sure the next thing you're thinking is that you'll simply marry her, wait a few days or maybe even a couple months and divorce her, claiming you fulfilled your end of the bargain since you got married.”
I hated that he knew this part of me so well, but had never bothered to get to know anything else about me. If there was anything else to me other than shallow manipulation. I knew my family didn't think so.
“You will have to stay married for at least three years, at which time, she can file for divorce if she wishes, but you're not allowed to.”
I ground my teeth together so hard that my jaw started to ache.
“Lastly,” he continued.
If he said I had to get her pregnant, I would end it right there. It was bad enough that I'd dragged a total stranger into this shit. I wouldn't even consider bringing a child into the picture. Besides, there were already twelve kids in the family, including five boys to carry on the family name. The Westmore legacy was pretty secure.
“During the entire time you're married, you'll remain faithful to her.”
I stared at him. He had to be kidding. This was a fucking arranged marriage. He couldn't seriously expect me to spend at least three years only having sex with one person. I didn't doubt I could get any woman into bed, but I didn't want to be with the same person more than a couple times, much less three entire years.
“You can go to strip clubs and watch, but if I hear you're doing anything more than watching, you're done. I won't even pretend that I won’t have people looking out for my interests. If there's even a hint of infidelity, you lose it all.” He took a step toward me. “This Saturday, three years, she has to file for divorce, and you keep it in your pants or in that woman.”
My jaw dropped open in shock. I'd never heard my father be so crude and a flare of anger went through me at how he talked about Livie. I didn't even know what to say.
“Think about it,” he said. “You've started this ball rolling. Now it's up to you to decide how far you're going to take this lie. But if you come clean, you'll either marry Rebecca Stirling or you'll be out on the streets. I will not ever… ever… have this conversation with you again. I’m finished with your messes and your shit.”
Before I could respond, he turned around and walked out, slamming the door shut behind him. I sank down on the couch. What had I done? If I'd thought I'd been in trouble before, it was nothing compared to now, and I only had myself to blame. I'd painted myself into a corner and I only had two ways out. I could confess and lose everything.
Or I could go try to convince a complete stranger to marry me.
I dropped my head into my hands. I was so fucked.
Chapter 10
Blayne
In some ways, it was an easy choice to make. I never even considered trying to make things right with my father by finding out if I could renew the possibility of an engagement to Rebecca. At the moment, I didn't want to “make things right” with my dad. If it weren’t for my inheritance being at stake, I probably would've told him to go to hell the moment he'd set up an ultimatum. Now, I was trying to figure out a way to still give him the metaphorical finger, but not end up broke and homeless.
Three years of hell was better than a lifetime of it.
I frowned as the thought came to me that if I lost my apartment, I didn't know where I would go. I had friends, plenty of them, but as I thought about each one, I realized I wasn't entirely sure how long they’d stay if I didn't have the money to throw around. If I couldn't buy drugs and booze, if I couldn't pay for strippers or get us into clubs, would my friends still be my friends?
I had a bad feeling that if I didn't get this taken care of, I would end up sharing a room with one of my nephews while Samuel tried to convince our father to change his mind and Hannah pretended I wasn't a huge inconvenience. She loved me, I knew, but I also knew my behavior bothered her and she definitely didn't want it around the kids. Moving in would probably push her over the edge.
I ran my hand through my hair. I'd had a great life. Why couldn't I just go back to it? I looked at the empty water glass on the table. I had to stop whining and get on with it. There was no turning back. My dad had set the rules and I had a choice to make. Or rather, a choice to follow through with. I already knew I wouldn’t walk away, which meant I only had one true choice.
I shifted and caught a whiff of stale beer and sweat. Lovely. Before I did anything, I needed to get cleaned up. Maybe something to eat. My stomach flipped. Okay, maybe sleep, then something to eat. I wasn't entirely sure passing out on the couch really constituted a restful night. I knew the crick in my neck was in agreement.
I woke up mid-afternoon feeling better than I had earlier. My hangover was gone and my stomach felt like it would actually hold something solid. I didn't eat much though, not wanting to push it. I glanced at the clock. I didn't know if Livie would be working again tonight, but I figured it was the best place to start looking for her. And I needed to find her. After all, I had to propose and get her to say 'yes’.
The first thing I knew I needed to do was find a ring, it would go a long way in proving to her I was serious. I'd made a joke about paying her to marry me before, so she might think I was still joking. If I had a ring, it'd look more real. Not that I wanted her to think it was real. I'd already decided I was going to do this, but it would have to be a business deal. I'd make sure both of us got something we needed out of it.
I'd never even thought about buying an engagement ring before, but there were plenty of stores nearby. I was sure at least one of them would have a saleswoman who could help me with my problem.
I was fortunate to find a woman who wouldn’t spend all afternoon gushing over the romance of it all, but she did ask me to describe my intended so that she could help me choose my perfect ring. It was an awkward couple minutes as I tried to come up with something that didn't make me sound like a complete cad. I must've managed to sound like a love-struck fool because she gave me an understanding smile and started to bring out various rings.
I wasn't worried too much about price, especially since I figured if things didn't work out, I'd at least be able to pawn the ring and get cash back, but I also wasn't about to buy something gaudy. I may have been about to ask a stranger to marry me so I didn't lose my comfortable way of life, but I wasn't about to make her look bad doing it, and it wasn't just because I wanted my wife to look good. She'd be putting herself into an awkward situation to begin with. The incentives should at least be worth it.
Finally, we settled on an elegant band of thin, twisted white gold with a large but not too-large diamond with two smaller diamonds on either side. It had a matching set of wedding bands that I put on hold – no need to buy those too if this all went to hell – after assuring the saleswoman I'd make sure she was the one who rang up the sale on them as well. She wished me luck with my proposal and I went on my way.
I found Frankie's easily enough, and my car was where I didn't remember parking it. That was good though. I knew I hadn't driven home, but that hadn't guaranteed my car would be still be here. I told myself that I wouldn't drink tonight, nothing more than a single beer to give me an excuse for being at the bar, so I'd take my car home afterwards.
Unless she said no and then I'd just leave the car and let my dad try to find it when he stopped payments on it. Thinking about how pissed off that would make my dad made me smile. That would be my goal, I decided. No matter what I did, I would make sure it made my father angry. I'd follow his rules, but he'd regret ever making them.
I took a deep breath and started for the door. I hoped Livie would be here, but I wasn't counting on it. I'd probably have to charm my way to finding her again, but I was determined to make this happen, one way or another. If she said no, I needed the time to figure out what I was going to do next.
The interior of the bar was dimmer than I remembered, or maybe it was lighter outside, I wasn't sure. My eyes took a moment to adjust and then I was looking toward the bar, searching for caramel curls. For a minute, I thought I would have to talk to the dark-haired man standing behind the cash register, but then I saw her out of the corner of my eye. I took a few steps toward her before her head came up and she saw me. I saw the glimmer of recognition before she turned away to hand a customer their drink.
The bar was more crowded than it had been the night before, but that was probably because last night had been the late night people, the ones like me. Right now, these were the guys stopping in for a drink between work and going home. I made my way to the edge of the bar, somewhere I could sit out of the way and wait for the best moment to talk to her.
I watched as she went about doing her job, smiling and talking to the patrons, but she didn't come to me for several minutes. I hoped it was because she was busy and not because she was trying to avoid me. When she finally started toward me, she called over her shoulder to the man behind the counter.
“I am going to take my break.” She gestured for me to follow her.
I did and we went through a door marked Employees Only. I hoped she didn't get in trouble, but if she agreed to my proposal, it wouldn't matter what her boss said. She'd never have to come back here again if she didn't want to.
Once we were inside the small break room, she turned toward me, her face expressionless. “I am assuming you did not come here for another drink.”
I grinned at her. “Actually, I had something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“I do not want to deceive your father that we are engaged.”
“Okay,” I said. I hoped she'd get the difference in what I was about to say. “That's not what I want you to do anyway.”
She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, obviously waiting.
I pulled out the ring box and opened it. “I want you to marry me for real.”
Nothing. No change of expression at all.
I hurried to explain, “But not in the 'I love you' sense for real. I told you last night about my father is forcing me to get married or I’ll be disinherited.” She nodded so I continued, “What I said this morning was impulsive. I didn't plan it, but after you left, I couldn't bring myself to tell my father the truth. Then, I thought, maybe it didn't have to be a lie.”
She seemed to realize I wasn't joking with her because she sank down in a chair. I took the chair across from her and set the ring between us.
I suddenly thought of something that would end this quickly. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No.” She tilted her head and gave me a scrutinizing look.
“Then here's my proposal. Since you're working in this lovely place.” I gestured around us. “I'm assuming you're not rolling in money and I doubt that working at a bar has been your vision of the American dream. I have money but I need a wife for the next three years. If you agree to marry me, I'll pay you a hundred thousand dollars a year, and that's not counting access to the penthouse, cars and things like that. After our third anniversary, you file for divorce and I'll agree to twenty thousand dollars a year, after taxes, for alimony.” I looked down at the ring. “Plus you get to keep the ring and any other gifts you get. And the day we get married, I'll give you a fifty thousand dollar bonus.”
She didn't respond for nearly a full minute so I finally looked up. She appeared to be thinking.
“Look, Liv, I completely understand if you think this is crazy and don't want to do it,” I said. “But I figured since I'd already introduced you to my dad – well, more or less – I might as well see if you want to follow through on it.”
“Livie,” she said.
“What?”
“My name. Livie Dusek.” She leaned forward and picked up the ring box. “I do not need to marry for a green card.”
“Okay,” I said. “Do you already have one?”
“No,” she said. “But I have applied.”
“Getting married would help with things in that respect,” I said.
“I would have conditions of my own.”