“Well, if I were already married, then I could avoid having to deal with any of this. At the moment, it is innuendo and whispers, but I am due to go to Perth in a couple of weeks and I know the pressure is going to be piled on me when I get there.”
My mind is racing. “I am guessing that when you say ‘already married’, you mean me?” I can hear the tremble in my voice. Okay, this was the last thing I was expecting.
“You have got it in one,” Alex replies, the smirk that he seems to have been holding back sliding into place.
“Oh…so you are suggesting that, for me to get the manuscript, I have to marry you?” I say, and I can’t help the disbelief that has seeped into my voice. What the hell? Has my life suddenly turned into a Harlequin romance novel?
“Correct. I know just how much you need this manuscript, Olivia. Your payment to the care home for your mother has just bounced, and you have a grand total of a hundred pounds in your account. Your rent is due next week, and without this manuscript your boss, Charles Ridings, will fire you and then both you and your mother will be homeless,” Alex states in a voice completely devoid of emotion.
I feel like I have been punched in the gut. “How the hell do you know my business?” I exclaim, my voice raising as the anger over this violation of privacy comes to the surface.
“I make it my business to know everything about the person I am dealing with,” Alex says, remaining completely calm. Touché. Okay, so I did my homework too, but I certainly did not go into this level of scrutiny. How the hell did he access my bank account? How does he know about my mother?
I fight to calm my emotions, and take a deep breath, knowing that I can’t let this situation spin out of control because I am too chickenshit to do what needs to be done. “Okay, so you know why I need the manuscript so much,” I mutter, knowing that my anger has turned my face red, and I can feel my heart beating rapidly.
Alex continues in his maddeningly calm manner as if my outburst hadn’t even occurred. “I am proposing that we get married, which will solve a major headache for me, and in return you will get your manuscript. Plus I will pay for your mother’s care and settle your debts.”
“Okay, I get the manuscript, but why would you want to pay for my mother’s care? And my debts are nothing to do with you,” I say quietly, my mind spinning as to why a perfect stranger would want to do this for me.
“Look, I am not a complete arsehole. You would have to commit to being married to me for a year; it would need to be that long to make sure that my parents believe that we married for love…” Alex fidgets in his seat, and I can see that he is not as cool as he is trying to make out he is.
“What do you mean, love?” I ask, seriously quite confused at this statement. Clearly what we are talking about is nothing to do with emotions and everything about a business transaction.
Alex lets out a deep sigh and pushes his hand through his hair in a gesture that I am quickly getting used to. “My parents met when they were seventeen and have been together ever since, sickeningly in love. And all they want for me and my siblings is to find what they have. They may try and match-make the hell out of me, but they mean well and would never try and force a marriage of convenience on any of us, even for money. Which is why they would have to believe that this is real,” Alex replies.
“If you have such a great relationship with your parents, then why don’t you tell them the truth? I mean, your ‘alternative lifestyle’ can’t be that bad, can it?” I say, doing my best to keep the bitterness out of my mouth. Suddenly something strikes me. “It’s not illegal, is it? I mean, please don’t tell me you torture small animals or things like that. Or are you gay?”
“No, I am not gay.” Alex lets out a loud laugh, a genuine smile stretching across his face and transforming his features. “And it is nothing illegal. It…it is just not something that they would understand. Look, I don’t even expect you to get it, and it’s not something I feel comfortable sharing with you at this time anyway.
“So for the next year you would be required to live with me.” Seeing my look of confusion, as I am certainly not in any position to move to Australia, he clarifies, “I have a house in London, so you can stay there and still be able to visit your mother and carry on your job. I travel a lot for business, so I wouldn’t be around that much, meaning you would have the run of the place. And for the year that we are together, I will make sure that you are looked after, your bills are paid and your mother is taken care of.”
My face must display my unease at his words. “As my wife, you will be expected to attend certain functions. You will be mixing with people who are, shall we say, quite snobby, so you will be expected to dress and act the part. It is only fair that you are compensated for it. If you are to agree to our arrangement, I will get a prenuptial agreement drawn up and we can go from there,” Alex finishes, an expectant look on his face. I can tell from the kind of person that he is that he is probably used to people jumping at his command, agreeing with him instantly, but I need a moment to gather my thoughts.
“So let me get this straight,” I say seriously. “If I agree to marry you for one year, then you will let me buy the manuscript and you will pay my expenses during the course of the year?” In my mind’s eye I see a giant grandfather clock going tick-tock, tick-tock, a countdown as I consider my future.
“In a nutshell…” Alex trails off as I stare at the tablecloth, my mind whirring with everything Alex has just said.
“Look, Olivia, I know this is a lot to take in, but I think for both of us, time is of the essence. I have ordered us some food, so let’s just forget about everything for the moment and enjoy our meal, and then perhaps you can go away and have a think about my proposal,” Alex suggests placidly, as if we have been discussing a simple business deal and not friggin’ marriage.
Alex gets up and presses a button on the wall. A couple of minutes later a waiter walks in, carrying two plates. As he sets them down in front of us, I can see fillet of beef Wellington, green beans, sautéed potato and creamy mushrooms. My stomach suddenly rumbles and I realise that I am ravenous, especially because I haven’t eaten since breakfast. Without asking, Alex pours me a glass of red wine and puts it in front of me.
“Um, thanks, but I don’t really drink. I’ll just have water if you don’t mind,” I say, not sure that I want to start going into the reasons why I don’t drink. That is a whole can of worms for another day.
Alex gives me a quizzical look but doesn’t question me, simply taking away the glass and giving me the choice of still or sparkling water instead. We both dig into our food and the silence is a welcome relief to the conversation that we have just been having. I go through everything Alex has told me and I know realistically that I don’t have any other choice; I cannot risk my mother becoming homeless. I would love to scream and wail about how life is so unfair…blah, blah, blah, but the reality is that Alex’s offer is actually the light at the end of a really long, dark tunnel and I just can’t see any other way out of the current mess that is my life.
As I reflect on the situation, it strikes me a little like that film Indecent Proposal, but Alex is certainly way hotter than Robert Redford and I am certainly no Demi Moore. “Do you expect me to have sex with you?” I suddenly blurt out, the filter on my brain failing to kick in before my mouth takes off, as I feel the blush creep across my face.
Alex looks at me with a strangely soft expression. “No, Olivia. That is not part of this deal. Believe me when I say that I think you are far too innocent to deal with what I offer.” His statement confuses the hell out of me. Innocent? At thirty-three, I would hardly think that I am some innocent virgin. I have had two long-term relationships, a couple of short, torrid affairs and a series of one-night stands, so no, I don’t think so. But I am not about to start discussing my sex life with Alex. I am merely relieved that there are no expectations on his part.
I find myself pushing the remains of my meal around my plate, my stomach suddenly too
full for me to take another mouthful. The food was delicious, but I don’t feel like I have fully done it justice in my current distracted state. I glance over at Alex, and as ever through this strange meeting, he seems to have remained completely calm—impassive almost. I study him under my lashes and while I certainly am attracted to him—well, what normal girl wouldn’t be attracted to a gorgeous hunk with a dreamy accent?—what strikes me most is how calm I feel in his presence. I would have thought I would be a bundle of nerves, but actually, with the sex issue clarified, I feel surprisingly safe, a strange feeling for me as I have essentially been looking after myself since I was twenty.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” I say softly. Alex looks at me, surprise written across his expression. I don’t think he thought I would make a decision so quickly.
He wipes his mouth with the pristine white cloth napkin. “Good. I’ll get the papers drawn up and sent across to you first thing.” Alex looks me in the eye, almost daring me to retract my acceptance of his proposal, but I look at him steadfastly.
“If you don’t mind, I think I am going to head home,” I say, knowing that I need to leave before I change my mind. “I think I have a migraine coming and need to take some tablets,” I lie smoothly. I think Alex realises my lie when I see a shadow cross his expression, but thankfully he doesn’t call me on it. Ever the gentleman, he insists on collecting my coat, helping me into it with a practiced ease, walking me out and putting me in his car, with strict instructions to the driver to deliver me home. I look out the window at Alex standing on the pavement, hands stuffed in his pockets, his expression strangely triumphant, as the car pulls away, and I am instantly swamped with the overwhelming sensation that life is never going to be the same.
The journey home is mercifully quick, the London traffic surprisingly light for a Wednesday evening, and when the car pulls up in front of my building, I scramble for the door handle. When I try to pay for my ride, the driver insists that it is on Mr Davenport’s account. I thank him and wish him a good evening before heading inside to begin my night of contemplation over the strange situation I find myself in.
Chapter Three
I wake to the incessant ringing of my doorbell. I fling on my robe before opening the door to find a courier standing there, holding a stack of packages. “Ms Walker?” he asks. I nod and sign for my parcels before heading back into my flat. My tiny studio is sparse; the escalation of my mother’s disease and mounting costs for her care have directly correlated with the slow selling off of my worldly goods and the downsizing of my living arrangements.
I leave the parcels on the table and then head over to the cupboard that houses the little kitchenette area. I pop the kettle on and make myself a cup of tea before sitting down to open the packages. The first box contains a smartphone, all shiny and new compared with the completely basic phone that I own. There is no note attached, but my assumption is that this is from Alex. After all, who else would be sending me things?
I plug the phone in to charge before turning my attention to a large flat box. When I finally pull out the contents, I find myself holding a small laptop and I guess it is one of those Chromebook computers that seem to be all the rage at the moment. Not sure if it needs charging as well, I plug the computer in and then turn my attention to the third and final package. Seconds later and I am holding the manuscript in my hands along with a handwritten note from Alex:
Dear Olivia,
As promised here is your manuscript. I trust that you will still honour our arrangement. We can discuss payment separately.
The laptop and phone are encrypted, so please ensure that you use them for all communication between us. You will find my details already stored on both devices, and I have set up a new email account for you.
I have emailed you a copy of the prenuptial agreement that I have had drawn up. If you are happy with the terms, you can sign it electronically and email it back.
Any questions, just drop me an email.
All the best,
Alex
The note is impersonal and business-like, which suits me fine. This is a business arrangement, after all. I sip on my tea as I wait for the laptop to load. When the home screen is finally up, I click on the email icon and then open up the email that is waiting for me.
I read through the attached document, my brain swimming as I try to read between the lines of ‘legalese’. As I understand it, the contract states that if we remain married for a full year, Alex will take care of all my debts and my mother’s care for the year that we are together and I will get a payout of a million pounds when we divorce. What surprises me most is the caveat about ‘extramarital relations’. It appears that I am perfectly fine to have a lover as long as I am discreet. Okay, I hadn’t even thought about that. It also states that Alex will also be able to make his visits to his ‘club’, though I am not sure what that means. Maybe this lifestyle thing is a secret society or something equally obscure. I find myself grinning as my imagination conjures up an image of hooded men exchanging strange handshakes in a darkened room lined with sconces.
I spend some time chewing over the document as I finish my cup of tea, trying to figure out the source of my unease. It is not the idea of being able to have another relationship whilst being married; I will be fine…it’s not like I am not used to being on my own, but a year is a long time for a guy to go without, I guess. No, it is the idea of the payoff at the end. With trembling fingers, I reach for the new phone, find Alex’s direct line and hit dial. I am relieved when he answers after a couple of rings.
“Good morning, Olivia,” says Alex smoothly. I wonder how the hell he knows it is me, but then I realise he has already programmed his number, so its stands to reason he knows mine.
“Morning, Alex. Are you okay to chat for a couple of minutes? I don’t want to interrupt your day,” I ask. Inwardly I am cursing the tremble that I hear in my voice, the nerves making themselves apparent.
“Sure thing. I guess you have had a chance to read through the document?” Alex asks, his voice calm and even, as if he is completely unaffected by the deal we are about to strike.
“Yes. And thank you for the phone and laptop, by the way. You didn’t need to,” I say, still feeling a little weirded out by Alex’s generosity. There was no need to have sent over what must be top-of-the-line gadgets; basic models would have certainly done me.
“Actually I did. I need to know that our conversations are secure. I can’t risk this kind of information getting out. So what can I help you with?” asks Alex.
“Um, the payoff…the million pounds…I don’t want it!” I blurt, anxiety flooding me.
For a moment, there is silence. “You don’t want the money?” Alex sounds incredulous.
“No, look, I appreciate your helping with my mother’s care and looking after me during the year we are married, but there is no need for anything else. Really, I don’t want it. It is not something I will have earned.” I can hear my voice rising, but I try my best to control my emotions.
“Believe me, you will have earned it by the end of the year,” Alex retorts, his voice hard and firm.
“Even so, Alex. I don’t feel comfortable with taking that kind of money. Please…I am happy to agree to everything else, but could you take that point out?” I request, and I hate myself when I hear the quaver in my voice. I don’t want to beg, but damn it, I will if I have to. This is just not something I will compromise on.
With a sigh, Alex acquiesces and promises me that a new version will be sent out within the hour. When I put the phone down, it immediately rings again, and puzzled by the unknown number showing on the screen along with uncertainty of who would actually have this number, I answer with a cautious “Hello?”
I am beyond surprised when the director of the care facility introduces herself, and my stomach twists into knots as I wait for her to start talking about chucking my mother out. Instead, she starts gushing about the very generous donation that my fiancé has made to the facility
. That, combined with the news that my mother has now been moved to a superior room with a view of the garden, already prepaid for the coming year, brings silent tears to my eyes. It would seem that Alex has already been very busy this morning.
When I finally get off the phone, I am able to break down with the relief that my mother is going to be okay. I sob loudly, letting out all the stress and tension that I have been keeping locked up tight. The crying is cathartic, and by the time my tears start to dry up, I finally feel something I haven’t for a very long time…hope.
Chapter Four
The background roar of the plane’s engines filters through my dreams. I am lying in my first-class bed with my eyes closed, contemplating the last ten days. In such a short space of time, Alex has turned my world upside down. Once the agreement was signed, he insisted I give notice on my flat, as well as my supplementary jobs, and move into his townhouse in Chelsea. I managed to stall—though in hindsight I really wonder why—so now my meagre possessions are being moved by his housekeeper while I am flying and I feel guilty that someone is being forced to deal with my mess.
My boss, Charles, was delighted with the manuscript, though I never let him know what lengths it took to get it for him. He wouldn’t have been interested anyway! Instead, I requested the holiday leave I am entitled to and let him know that I would be coming back from Australia married. I almost laughed at the look of surprise on his face when I told him, but managed to stay cool and professional.
I keep my eyes closed and continue to pretend that I am asleep. I can hear the soft tapping as Alex continues to work on his laptop, something he has done non-stop since we boarded the plane in Singapore. We have barely spoken, beyond the arrangements to get us to Australia, and even then most of that was done through his secretary. I made the first leg of the journey alone as Alex had already flown out to do business in Singapore. I had never flown long distance before and was like a kid in a candy store being in first class, though some of the novelty had worn off by the time that I met Alex in the departure lounge for our second flight.
Tied to You Page 2