Marriage of Inconvenience

by Penny Reid

  Marry me . . .

  The dangerous notion dug its claws into my fragile yet safe plan and tore it to shreds. Shaking my head, I cursed myself for approaching Dan while I was like . . . this. Already feeling all the feelings, I was vulnerable, and I hated feeling vulnerable.

  Seeing Dan just compounded everything; it made me contemplate crazy, grasping-at-straws ideas. I should’ve waited until he was gone.

  Not helping matters, with each beat of my heart the words chanted between my ears, Ask him. Ask him. Ask him. Ask him.

  Dan’s grin waned after a time. And then, after more time, his grin reappeared. He was looking at me like he thought I was funny. Or cute. Or maybe both.

  “Kat?”

  “Yes?” The single word was strangled, but I was profoundly proud of myself for managing to say it.

  Another flash of teeth framed by his alluring lips, before asking gently, “How can I help?”

  “Oh, sorry. I apologize. Thank you.” Stop apologizing. Stop. Apologizing.

  Some people have curse jars.

  I had a “sorry” jar.

  I also had a “thank you” jar.

  Believe it or not, I’d been much better over the past year, but—gah!—something about Dan made it worse. He was dangerous. His sexiness was a hazard. To my soul. I required distance.

  Taking a full step backward, I unnecessarily tucked my hair behind my ears—one of my practiced maneuvers for stalling—and infused my tone with controlled aloofness. “Excuse me.”

  At my withdrawal, Dan’s warm smile fell away and his eyes narrowed as they flickered over me, now assessing.

  “I’m trying to get ahold of Steven,” I said, my voice now even.

  “You called him?”

  “He’s not answering his phone and now my cell is dead.” I took two deep breaths before continuing with renewed detachment, “I was hoping I could ask one of the guys to call his desk.”

  “He’s at my place.” His tone was no longer gentle, but now impersonal and business-like, mimicking mine.

  “Your place?”

  Dan scratched his neck, glancing over my head. “He’s working from my place today. He’s watching Wally.”

  “Oh.” An automatic smile tugged at my mouth. I couldn’t help it. Even in my present state of distress, the mere mention of Dan’s dog improved my mood. He had the world’s most adorable canine. A lab/terrier mix with expressive brown eyes, floppy ears, and short black fur—except for a white patch around his mouth that made him look like he was always smirking.

  “Steven has been helping me out for the last month, working from my place a few days a week.” Dan pulled out his cell. “You wanna use my phone?”

  “No, thank you. But I appreciate it.” I glanced over my shoulder, out the lobby doors to the street beyond, debating my options. I couldn’t ask Steven to marry me over the phone, and definitely not in front of Dan. It was a conversation that required an in-person meeting. “Thank you, but I’ll try to reach him later.”

  Would later be too late?

  “Or, you know, maybe bring him lunch.”

  “Pardon me?” My eyes darted to his. “At your place?”

  I’d never been in Dan’s apartment before. The urge to snoop would be strong, but I would overcome it. What I might not overcome was the desire to discover what brand of cologne he wore. Sniff it. Write it down. Buy it for . . . reasons.

  “What’s wrong with my place?”

  “Nothing at all. But, you don’t mind?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I mind?” His voice rose, just a smidge, and his eyes seemed to harden.

  “I don’t want to—”

  “What?”

  “Take advantage.”

  “You never do.” Dan shrugged, but there was something odd about the gesture as well as his tone, a strange tension in his shoulders. Abruptly, he lowered his eyes to the marble floor, took a deep breath through his nose, and then lifted his chin once more. A new, fastidiously polite smile now in place, his gaze was cool and remote. “He’ll be there all day. If you want to talk to him in person, you should go.”

  I hesitated.

  “It’s no big deal.” He said these words softly, his gaze dropping to my hands, and that’s when I realized I’d been twisting my fingers. “Seems like you got something weighing you down.”

  I balled my hands into fists and hid them behind my back, and then immediately felt like a dolt for doing so, especially when the number-ten envelopes almost slipped from their place under my arm.

  But I also managed to say, “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  Dan continued to inspect me, his eyes growing sharper. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?”

  Again, the unbidden marry me whispered through my mind and I rolled my lips between my teeth, cutting off what I knew would be a small but hysterical-sounding laugh.

  Shaking my head, I backed away. “No, thank you. No. Nope. Have a nice day.”

  Turning from Dan, I power-walked back to the elevators and punched the button for the floor of my office. I needed my wallet. I needed to give Ms. Opal her envelopes and inform her that I had a family emergency, and let my junior administrative staff know I would be gone for the rest of the day.

  Just before the elevator doors closed, I hiccupped. Loudly. Violently. Lifting my eyes as I covered my mouth, I found Dan watching me. He hadn’t moved from his spot by the desk, and a painful squeeze constricted my heart just before I hiccupped again.

  A tempting but completely impractical thought whispered through my mind. Another, Why not?

  This time, Why not Dan?

  I sighed, leaning heavily against the wall of the lift, and rubbed my hairline where a tension headache was now forming.

  Dan O’Malley was a good guy. A great guy. Because I avoided him, we hadn’t talked much, especially after what happened between us in Vegas.

  But we’d known each other for over two years and he’d always been kind. He’d always taken great care of our overlapping circle of friends. He was the kind of guy who’d give someone in need the shirt off his back, and then offer a beer and a place to stay. If I asked him to help, there was a real chance he might agree. He was just that good.

  And yet, a marriage of convenience to the man of my dreams?

  That sounded like a nightmare.

  Chapter Two

  Marriage fraud: A marriage of convenience entered into purely for the purpose of gaining a benefit or other advantage arising from that status.

  —Wex Legal Dictionary

  **Kat**

  My violent hiccups persisted, even while waiting for and grabbing takeout from Steven’s favorite sushi restaurant; even while walking along the long stretch of North Michigan Avenue enjoying the summer sun; even while trying to come up with an alternative—any alternative—to marriage.

  I’d held my breath several times. Likewise, several times, I’d been convinced the hiccups had passed, only for them to sneak up like a ninja and strike when least expected.

  Unexpected hiccups were the worst, mostly because of their volume. My hiccups sounded like a shrill gasp if I wasn’t careful to keep my mouth closed. A few people eyeballed me as I walked, as though attempting to determine if I were in distress or just a weirdo making truncated shrieking sounds.

  I supposed it was a mixture of both: I was in distress; I was a weirdo making truncated shrieking sounds.

  Thankfully, my diaphragm decided to take a chill pill about two blocks from Dan’s apartment. Aside from the hiccups, the walk had been good for me, calming. Once I’d accepted my fate, that marriage was the most expedient and efficient answer to my conundrum, I’d prepared a speech, hoping it would help Steven make the right decision.

  I had to ask, I didn’t feel I had a choice, but I didn’t want him to feel pressured.

  Dan’s apartment building, which was owned by Cypher Systems, was situated in New East Side. The structure had views of Lake Michigan as well as the green space�
�including Millennium, Daley, and Grant Parks—all the way to the Field Museum to the south.

  Because Quinn’s company owned the apartment building, and because he was particular about security, several employees and individuals associated with Cypher Systems also lived there.

  For example, Cypher Systems provided the security detail for my friend Elizabeth’s famous comedian husband, Nico Moretti. Nico and Elizabeth lived in one of the penthouses. Janie and Quinn lived in the second penthouse on the same floor. Sandra—another member of my knitting group—and Alex—her hacker husband who worked for Quinn—lived on the floor below the penthouse level, the same floor as Dan and my friend Steven.

  A very friendly doorman I recognized as Charles, who looked more like an MMA fighter than a doorman, grinned when I came into view. “Where is everyone meeting tonight?”

  “What?” I stopped to converse with him; I had no way to enter the building without Charles opening the door.

  “Isn’t your knitting group meeting tonight?”

  “Oh. No. That’s on Tuesdays.”

  “Right. That’s right.” Charles gripped the large door handle, waited a moment for it to scan his prints, and held the door open for me, winking as I walked past. “See you later, Kat.”

  I gave him a polite nod, unable to stop myself from adding him to my list of potential marriage candidates.

  Obviously, first I have to find out if he’s single.

  Scrunching my face at myself, I struggled to shake off the desperate turn of my thoughts.

  Once inside, I sent a short wave to Lawrence, the concierge—he’s married—and crossed to the elevators. Lawrence returned the greeting as he unlocked the controls. Soon I was on my way up to Dan’s floor, berating myself for fanatically cataloguing the relationship status of every person I encountered.

  I practiced my speech on the short walk down the hall to Dan’s apartment, knocking on the door as I debated how much money I should offer Steven for his trouble. I wanted to pay him for his trouble—because it would be trouble—but I didn’t want to pay him so much it might unduly influence his decision one way or the other.

  Ten million dollars might be too much, for example. I wanted Steven to marry me because he wanted to help and because he was freely willing to accept the trouble Caleb would rain upon us, not because of the money. I didn’t want him to feel trapped or coerced.

  I resolved to call Eugene and ask his opinion regarding the appropriate dollar figure just as Steven opened the door.

  “Kat.” He wore a surprised yet welcoming smile. “Are you here for me?”

  “Yes. Dan said you were here.”

  “You spoke to Dan?” Steven’s gray eyes widened with obvious expectation and excitement as he stepped back from the door, motioning me in. “Tell me everything.”

  “It wasn’t like that. You know he doesn’t think of me that way.” I hesitated for a split second, and then I walked into the entryway of Dan’s apartment.

  “Maybe because you avoid him.”

  “You know why I avoid him.” My attention was distracted by the pictures on the wall. “I needed to speak to you and Dan told me where you were, that’s all.”

  My stare snagged on a black and white photo of Dan and Wally, when the dog was just a pup. He was holding the little bundle tucked in a jacket, cuddled to his chest, and Wally was licking his face. Dan wore a look of complete adoration and joy.

  Oh my heart.

  I sighed.

  As though on cue, I heard a dog bark, followed by a whine and scratching.

  “You’ve been here less than thirty seconds and you’re already bursting bubbles.” Steven shut the front door, huffing as he walked farther into the apartment. “Come on in, Debbie Disappointment. I need to let Wally out of the bedroom.”

  “Why is he in the bedroom?” I tore my gaze from the photo and followed Steven.

  “He growls at people he doesn’t like and runs after people he does. When Alex stops by, Wally tries to follow him out. It’s better to keep him in the bedroom whenever someone comes or goes.”

  The short hall opened to a large living room with floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the parks and lake. I only tangentially noted the comfy leather couch and wood furniture decorating the space, mostly because I was trying my best not to notice anything. This was Dan’s apartment, and I wasn’t present by invitation.

  Least I forget, proposing marriage to Steven while simultaneously and thoroughly warning him of potential dangers was my goal.

  “I brought you lunch,” I called after my friend, setting the bags of takeout on a granite bar that separated the kitchen from the living space. “Sushi from Mai Tai.”

  “Okay, then you’re forgiven.” His voice reached my ears just before Wally bounded into the room, making a dash straight for me.

  I squatted, grinning, and opened my arms to receive him. The first thing he did was lick my face and I laughed as he danced excitedly in front of me, enthusiastic tail wagging almost knocking him over.

  Rubbing behind his ears and turning my head to avoid additional doggy kisses, I looked to Steven as he re-entered the room. “Forgiven for what?”

  “Forgiven for not asking Dan out. He’s been single for something like two months. The time has come to stop avoiding The Security Man.”

  I stood, still scratching the spot Wally seemed to love. “Steven.”

  “Kat.” Steven crossed his arms, giving me his bitch, please look.

  Whenever Dan came up in conversation—but especially over the last two months—Steven would not-so-subtly push me to do something about my feelings. My friend knew all about my two-and-a-half-year crush, though I hadn’t yet told him what happened between Dan and me in Vegas. Steven hadn’t asked and I hadn’t volunteered.

  We didn’t have time for this conversation. It was already past noon. If we were going to get married as soon as possible—which was tomorrow—we needed to go to the Clerk of the Court and obtain a marriage license now.

  No use beating around the bush, best just to be out with it.

  “Listen, I need—I need you to consider a request for your help.” I pulled off my coat, tossed it to the couch, and walked to my friend. I grabbed Steven’s hands. “I received a call today from Uncle Eugene, you know, my father’s lawyer? And, Steven, this is serious.”

  His demeanor immediately sobered and he tightened his hands around mine reassuringly. “Tell me.”

  “You remember my cousin Caleb?”

  “Yes. The pharma bro who is one evil deed away from becoming a real-life portrait of Dorian Gray.”

  “That’s the one. Well, you know how my dad is getting worse? Caleb is trying to obtain guardianship of me—and my property.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “He wants control of the family’s shares, which—if he succeeds in his bid for guardianship—would be his as soon as I inherit.”

  “But, honey,”—Steven shook his head, clearly confused—“your dad’s condition has been pretty stable, hasn’t it? When is the last time he even recognized you? Isn’t that why you’ve been flying to Boston, to visit your parents, learn the ropes, so you’ll be prepared when the time comes? I thought the doctors said you had years.”

  I did my best to faithfully relate the majority of my conversation with Uncle Eugene to Steven, the bulky burden of reality resettling on my shoulders as I recounted the facts. I repeated Eugene’s assessment of the situation. I didn’t cry. When I felt close to tears, I walked to the couch and sat, crossing my arms over my stomach and working to separate myself from the moment.

  But when I arrived at the most crucial part—the part about needing to get married—Steven interrupted me.

  “Oh my God. Are you going to ask Dan?” His mouth fell open, his gray eyes circles of excitement.

  “What? No! Not Dan. You.”

  Steven recoiled. “Me?”

  “Yes. You.”

  I’d surprised him. He looked horrified. His eyes darted betwee
n mine for several long seconds, and I knew.

  He was going to say no.

  My face fell to my palms. “Darn.”

  “Oh honey.” He placed a hand on my back and rubbed.

  “What am I going to do?”

  “Lamb chop,” he began gently. “I can’t say yes. I’m . . . seeing . . . someone.”

  This news had me sitting up straight. “You are? But—this is great. Who? And for how long? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He’d never admit it, but Steven had been hoping to meet someone for a while.

  “Not long.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  “Do I know him?”

  “Maybe.” Flicking his wrist, Steven batted my question away. “But we can discuss all that later. And, listen, if you can’t find anyone else, I’ll do it, okay?”

  “No. No way. I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “Steven—”

  “What are the requirements? Besides marrying you, what will this person have to do?”

  “Uh, let’s see.” I searched my memory, describing Eugene’s warnings about Caleb, and then added a few stories from my recent visits, during which Caleb had been particularly awful.

  “You need someone impervious to threats and bribery.” Steven tugged at his bottom lip.

  “Yes. Someone I trust, obviously. Someone I’ve known for a while. Preferably someone who isn’t interested in me at all. That would only complicate matters.”

  “Well, I check all those boxes. Plus, I’m magnificent. I see why I’m your first choice.” He gave me a small smile. “But let’s think. Why don’t you ask one of your gal pals? Which one of you knitters isn’t married?”

  “I thought about asking Marie.”

  Steven shook his head. “I don’t think so. Isn’t she involved with that professor guy?”

  “Who?”

  “The hot nerd who lives next door to Fiona and Greg.”

  “Matt Simmons? I don’t think so.”

  “Think again. I spotted them out shopping together at the Hugo Boss store. She helped him pick out ties.”