So Much More

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

“Please, sit down.” He motioned to the sofa and stepped back, allowing her to pass him. “Coffee? Water?”

She gave him a smile and slid purposely and gracefully into an armchair. “Water. Thank you.”

He poured water for both of them, then grabbed the thick envelope his lawyer had sent, and sat by her on the sofa.

Hannah watched him as he flipped through the documentation she had provided. He hadn’t changed much in those seven years. Sure, he looked more mature and sophisticated, and there were a few lines around his eyes and that scruffy, devil-may-care beard, which she was sure demanded permanent care. It all made him much more manly, attractive, and unattainable than when she and her mother lived at Senator Blackthorn’s Connecticut residence.

When he finished re-reading all the background checks that his lawyer had run through all the usual—and unusual—security protocols, he still didn’t—couldn’t—understand why a woman like Hannah would be applying for the position. She was much more qualified than any other woman who had applied for it so far. From what he recalled, her mother had raised her well, but he would not complain if she wanted to share his bed. Much to the contrary.

He took his Cartier pen out of his inner jacket pocket and held it between his large hands, his long fingers stroking it slowly, and fixed her with his dark eyes.

Hannah watched the gliding movements, the light touch pushing and pulling. She flicked her gaze to his and it told her he was thinking of stroking—and doing—other things. The thought caused liquid fire to race, singeing every nerve, and then pooling in her stomach, rekindling long-ago dormant dreams and forgotten teenage infatuation.

Focus, Hannah! She drank the water to wet her dry throat and broke the lengthy silence. “Your lawyer gave me all the details. I’m interested.”

He leaned back and sipped his water. This fake wife idea hadn’t seemed so brilliant when his father and lawyers first suggested the idea, but now that he was face-to-face with his prospective bride, Markus liked it a lot. “Why should I hire you?”

“I have an ECE bachelor degree from Rasmussen College and the New York Teaching Initial Certificate. I speak Spanish fluently and my French is passable. The Dawson’s letter of recommendation is more than enough reason to answer your question. I am qualified to take care of your daughter while passing as your wife and making you look like a…stable family man.” She shrugged. “And, I need a job.”

“Yes, you are more than qualified if you were applying for a tutor position. But this is not a job, honey.”

She raised her eyebrows. “And what is this?”

“You are here for the money.” He put his glass down on the center table and leaned back on the sofa. “And half a million dollars is a f*****g hell of a lot of money. What do you need it for?”

“None of your business.”

Of course it is. He frowned. “I must insist.”

She glanced back at him, not avoiding his stare this time. “Listen, Mr. Blackthorn—”

“Markus.” He would have sworn he saw some kind of angry spark in her eyes. Even as a blossoming young woman, she had always possessed an almost haunting quality in her wide emerald-green eyes. But when he looked again, he could see nothing in them—nothing at all.

“This deal is good for both of us. Your daughter gets the best education a home tutor can provide and you get a woman to pass as your wife while I close my eyes for whatever lover you might have. All that for only half a million dollars.”

“Says here,”—he tapped her file, suppressing his smile at her prideful squaring shoulders,—“you are available to start immediately.”

“Yes,” she nodded. Her twice-a-week babysitting job for a wealthy yet thrifty New Yorker family could go to hell for all she cared. “A few hours to pack and put my life in order. A day, at most.”

There was something different in her now, and it was not her blossomed beauty or body, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. “You’re aware you’ll be selling a whole year of your life—and more, if needed—to me. No days off—or nights, for that matter.”

“Yes.” Her eyes returned to the expensive pen he was still caressing.

“You’re aware of the contract terms, I take it?”

She frowned. “Are we going to sign a contract?”

“Apart from a pre-nup? No. It will be unenforceable.”—And a dangerous document in the wrong hands.—“I expect you will hold your part of our bargain, which I must remind you is strictly confidential.”

“I will,” she nodded. His lawyer had made it clear at the last meeting she would be destroyed if she so much as mentioned a single word of it to anyone. “I have a small request of my own.”

“Let’s hear it,” he said curtly.

“I don’t expect you to be celibate for the whole term of our contract. And I don’t care with whom you…fornicate,”—she didn’t even blink, but she felt a burning inside her chest,—“as long as it is done behind closed doors.”

“I like your candor.” He wasn’t planning on staying celibate for a whole year, especially with such a beautiful woman as his wife. By the heat coursing in his veins, he would be very happy to have her in his arms.

“I request you to be discreet in your liaisons.”

“Discreet.” He laughed. When she opened her mouth again, he cut her off, “Hannah. You do understand why we are making this…arrangement.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “You need a wife to present to society—and to the judge—as the perfect female model: a good wife who can be a loving stepmother. I have to make you look respectable and loving and get your ex off your back, so you can have the custody of your daughter. And I can do that.”

He put the pen back in his pocket and leaned in her direction. “I can’t afford to be caught with any other woman until I have everything settled with Victoria’s custody.”

She nodded. “That’s—”

“And I am paying you half a million dollars. Plus expenses. For that amount, I expect you to put up with my idiosyncrasies.” Markus’s eyes lingered on her for a long, endless moment before he said, “And who knows? Perhaps you can make it real.”

Hannah frowned at the way he said the last word. “How…real?”

He slid to the edge of the sofa and put his hand on her knee. “Real.”

Hannah froze. His lawyer had made it clear she would have to make it real, but she thought the real part would be a few caresses and kisses while in public, nothing more. As her mother’s dying face swam into her mind, Hannah realized it wasn’t accepting Markus’s proposal that horrified her, but the certainty that her mother would be mortified with her decision to sell her body as a w***e. She couldn’t do it—no matter how much the job was paying, no matter how much she needed the money.

Though he could see the realization of what he was proposing taking shape in her mind, she was clearly trying to conceal the shock. “There’s a line of women who would literally kill to be in the position you’re in.”

She wanted to tell Markus to find one of the many women in that disgusting line of his and go f**k himself. Instead, she said as coolly as she could, “I need to think about it.”

“Well then, sleep on it and call me tomorrow.” He rose and accompanied her to the door. There was something so mystifying about this grown-up, cold Hannah that his interest had been piqued.

He had talked to her as though it was a foregone conclusion that he’d hire her if only she were willing to agree to the terms.

It was impossible to be objective though.

He was almost determined to have her, whether or not she took the position. Yet, the last time he’d allowed his c**k to overrule his head, he’d ended up marrying Nicola. Jumping into things too quickly with women is how I got into this predicament to begin with. I need to give her careful consideration as I would any other candidate.

“Goodbye, Mr. Blackthorn.”

“See you, Hannah.” He smiled at her. “Take care of that broken arm.”

He noticed the slight faltering in her pace and the hitch in her breath. But then she rose to her full height.

“Don’t worry. I will,” she answered, not really knowing what she was going to do.