Contract Marriage With The Enemy

Chapter 5

J U L I A N

I watched Elara Vance walk away, my mind still processing what had just happened.

She proposed marriage. To me.

A Vance proposed marriage to a Hartmann.

My grandfather, Eduard would have had a heart attack.

I pulled out my phone from my pocket and called Dec.

"Come back here. Now," I said.

Two minutes later, Dec appeared, looking way too amused for my liking.

"So," he said, leaning against the wall with a stupid grin on his face.

"Want to tell me what that was about?"

"Not particularly."

"Was that really Elara Vance dressed as a waitress?" He asked as if wanting to be sure.

"Yes."

"And did she really just ask you for a private meeting?"

"Yes."

"And you said yes because...?"

I looked at him. "Business opportunity."

Dec laughed, like he actually laughed.

What happened to the questions he was asking while messaging me earlier?!

"Mate, the last time you called something a 'business opportunity' with that look on your face, you bought a failing company just to prove everyone wrong. What kind of business opportunity involves sneaking off with Richard Vance's daughter?"

"The kind I'm not discussing in the middle of a gallery," I said, checking my watch. "Let's get out of here."

"We've been here for twenty minutes. We're supposed to stay for at least an hour."

"I don't care. I need to think."

Dec studied me for a moment, then shrugged. "Fine then. But you're buying drinks and you're telling me everything."

We made our excuses and left, Dec driving us to his favorite bar in Brooklyn, the one where nobody knew who we were and nobody cared.

Once we had our drinks, Dec turned to me with that serious expression he gets when he's about to say something I won't like.

"Talk," he said.

"She proposed marriage."

Dec choked on his whiskey. "She what?"

"She wants a contract marriage. A one year, business arrangement."

"And you said?"

"I said I would consider it."

"You said you'd consider it," Dec repeated slowly. "To marrying a Vance, your family's sworn enemy. The granddaughter of the man who destroyed your grandfather."

"I'm aware of the irony."

"Are you also aware of how insane this is?"

I took a sip of my drink. "Very aware."

"So why are you considering it?"

Because I've thought about her for seven years, because that debate at Columbia was the most intellectually stimulating conversation I've ever had, because the thought of having her in my life, even temporarily, even just for revenge, is more appealing than anything else I can think of.

But I didn't say any of that.

So instead, I told him the same thing I told Elara.

"Revenge," I said. "Can you imagine Richard Vance's face when he finds out his daughter married me instead of Senator Blackwell?" I added.

"That's your reason? Revenge?"

"It's a good reason." I defended.

Dec shook his head. "There's something you're not telling me."

"There's a lot I'm not telling you."

"Julian—"

"She said Blackwell's first two wives died under suspicious circumstances. She doesn't want to be wife number three."

That made Dec pause. "Seriously?"

"That's what she said."

"And you believe her?"

"I don't know yet. That's why we're meeting in three days, at your office. You're drawing up the contract."

"My office?" Dec looked horrified. "You want me to be involved in this insanity?"

"You're my lawyer, and my best friend. Who else would I trust?"

"Someone with better sense than to let you do this?"

"Too late. I already said yes."

Dec groaned and ordered another drink. "This is going to end badly. You know that, right?"

"Probably."

"And you're doing it anyway?"

I thought about Elara's green eyes, the way she'd held herself together even though I could see she was terrified, the bravery it took her to walk up to me and ask for help.

"Yes," I said. "I'm doing it anyway."

Dec was quiet for a moment, then he sighed. "Fine. But when this blows up in your face, I'm going to say I told you so."

"I expect nothing less."

We drank in silence for a while. Then Dec asked, "What are you going to tell Rosa?"

Rosa.

My nanny, the woman who raised me when my parents left, the woman who would have opinions about me marrying a Vance.

Strong opinions.

"I haven't thought that far ahead yet."

"You should. You know she'll find out. She always finds out."

He was right.

Rosa had a sixth sense for when I was doing something stupid.

"I'll tell her when the time is right," I said.

"Which is code for 'never if I can help it,'" Dec said.

"Exactly."

My phone buzzed.

A text from Maya, my younger sister: Heard you left the gallery early. Everything ok?

I typed back: Fine. Just tired.

Liar. What happened? She replied back immediately.

Nothing. Go back to your journalism. I typed back.

I'm a journalist. I know when people are lying. But fine, keep your secrets. For now.

I pocketed my phone and finished my drink.

"You should go home," Dec said.

"Sleep on this. Make sure you really want to do this before the meeting."

"I'm sure." Already certain.

"You say that now, but—" Dec started, but I interrupted him.

"Dec. I'm sure."

He looked at me for a long moment, then nodded.

"Okay. Three days. My office. I'll have preliminary contract drafts ready."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, I still think this is the stupidest thing you've ever done."

"Noted."

We left the bar and Dec dropped me at my penthouse. I took the elevator up, my mind still spinning.

Contract marriage to Elara Vance.

One year.

I walked into my apartment, too big, too empty, too quiet. I'd bought it five years ago, right after my company really took off. Top floor, panoramic views of Manhattan, more space than one person could ever need.

I went straight to my study and pulled out a file I kept in the bottom drawer of my desk.

Inside was a program from Columbia, seven years old, from a guest lecture series on corporate ethics.

There was a photo in it, a group photo of the speakers and some of the students who'd participated in the debate.

Elara was in that photo, looking young and fierce and absolutely brilliant.

I'd kept it all these years.

"You absolute i***t," I said to myself.

But I didn't put the photo away.