VOWS WRITTEN IN CHAMPAGNE

CHAPTER6

THE BIGGER PROBLEM

Monday morning I walked into Crown Properties at seven-thirty, an hour before anyone else arrived. I sat in my new office on the thirtieth floor and stared at the Cape Town marriage certificate locked in the top drawer of my desk. My coffee sat untouched, growing cold.

Francis had sent me three messages overnight, all asking if I had lost my mind. Maybe I had. Keeping this marriage was insane. It was manipulative and wrong and everything I told myself I would never be. But every time I picked up the phone to tell him to file the papers, I stopped.

Four months. That was all I had. If Clinton got his hands on my grandfather's estate, he would sell every property, gut every project, fire every employee. Sixteen thousand jobs gone because my cousin wanted fast cash. My grandfather built this company from nothing. I would not let it burn.

And the only thing standing between Clinton and that inheritance was a ring on my finger and a certificate with Shaznay's name on it.

I heard my father's booming voice in the corridor at eight forty-five and straightened in my chair. I had rehearsed this moment in my head twenty times. Calm. Professional. Like I had never seen her before.

But then the door opened, and Tonia led her in, and every rehearsed word evaporated.

She was wearing a white blouse buttoned to her collarbone and black trousers and her braids were pulled back tight and neat. Her face was neutral, composed, controlled. She looked nothing like the girl who had danced with me on Friday night or kissed me on a plane or laughed so hard champagne came out of her nose. She looked like a woman who was holding herself together with nothing but willpower.

"Shaznay," my father said warmly. "Allow me to introduce my son, Benjamin."

Her eyes met mine and I saw everything flash through them at once. Shock, then recognition, then rage, all in the space of a breath before she locked it down behind a polite smile.

"Hello, Shaznay," I said, extending my hand. "It is nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too." Her handshake was firm, her fingers cold against mine, her jaw tight.

My father left. The door closed. And the mask dropped.

"You knew." Her voice was quiet but sharp enough to cut glass.

"I found out Saturday night. After we landed." I leaned back in my chair and met her glare steadily. "My father called and told me he hired you. I did not know before that."

She pressed her lips together and her chest rose and fell with a long breath. "You handed me your card and watched me read it. You said nothing."

"What would you have wanted me to say?"

"How about, 'By the way, I am your new boss'? That might have been a good start."

Fair. I deserved that. "I should have told you. I am sorry."

"Save your apology." She squared her shoulders. "I cannot work here. I quit."

"You cannot quit."

"I just did."

"Shaznay, listen to me." I stood and came around the desk, keeping my voice low in case anyone passed by the glass walls. "If you quit on your first day, people will talk. My father will ask why. If he finds out what happened between us, things get complicated fast."

"Things are already complicated!" she hissed, stepping closer. "You are my boss, Benjamin. We are married. How is this not the definition of complicated?"

I ran my hand over my jaw. She was right, of course. But she did not have all the information yet. I had spent all weekend deciding whether to tell her the truth, and now, standing here with her eyes burning holes through me, I knew I had no choice.

"Sit down," I said. "Please."

"I do not want to sit down."

"Shaznay."

Something in my tone made her pause. She searched my face for a long moment, then slowly lowered herself into the chair across from my desk. I sat on the edge of the desk facing her, closer than I probably should have been, but I needed her to hear every word clearly.

"My lawyer tried to file the annulment. The window to do it quickly has passed. We missed it by six hours because the registry was closed over the weekend."

The color drained from her face. "What does that mean?"

"It means we cannot get a quick annulment. We have to go through the courts. It could take three to six months."

She pressed both hands over her face and leaned forward. I watched her shoulders rise and fall, once, twice. Then she dropped her hands and looked up at me with glassy eyes.

"Three to six months," she repeated flatly.

"Yes."

"And in the meantime? We just... pretend nothing happened?"

"In the meantime, I need to tell you something else." I paused because the next words out of my mouth would either make her stay or make her walk out that door and never come back. "My grandfather left an inheritance clause in his will. I have to be married by my thirtieth birthday or I lose everything. The company, the properties, all of it. It goes to my cousin."

She stared at me. "Your birthday is when?"

"Four months."

The silence between us stretched so thin I could hear the air conditioning humming through the vents. Her eyes were wide and unblinking, processing, calculating, putting the pieces together.

"You want to stay married," she whispered.

"I am asking you to consider it."

She shot to her feet. "No. Absolutely not. I am not going to be your fake wife so you can collect your inheritance like some sort of prize."

"It is not just money, Shaznay. It is sixteen thousand jobs. People with families, with children, who depend on this company existing."

"That is not my problem!"

"I know it is not." I looked at her and for the first time, let her see something honest in my face. Not the businessman. Not the CEO. Just a man who was in way over his head. "But I am asking anyway."

She shook her head, backing toward the door. "You are out of your mind."

"Probably."

Her hand found the door handle and she gripped it but did not turn it. She stood there, frozen, staring at the floor. I could see the war happening behind her eyes. I could see her thinking about her sister, her grandmother, the bills she never talked about but that sat heavy on her shoulders every single day.

"What would I get out of it?" she asked quietly, without turning around.

My chest tightened. "Name your price."

She turned then. Slowly. Her chin lifted and those dark eyes locked onto mine with a fire that made something in my chest pull tight.

"I will think about it," she said. "But if I say yes, we do this on my terms. Not yours."

Before I could respond, she pulled the door open and walked out. I watched her move through the office, her back straight, her head high, her steps steady. She did not look back.

I let out a breath I did not know I was holding and dropped my head forward. My phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from an unknown number.

It read: "I know what you did in Cape Town. Congratulations on the wedding, Benjamin. Mirabel."

My blood went cold.