I Married a Master

by Melanie Marchande

  And no. No, I couldn't.

  "What could possibly be so important up in this lowly end of town, Mr. Chase?" I asked the back of his head.

  He whirled around, his face twitching almost imperceptibly. "Well, well. What an unexpected pleasure." Folding his arms across his chest, he stepped closer to me, his quest to get past the barrier forgotten. "Once again, you've got that talent for running into me when I'm at my absolute worst."

  "Well, you are in my neighborhood." I made a vague gesture. "More or less. Except I can't go home."

  "Shit." He glanced at the barriers, then back at me, with a ghost of a smile. "Well, that's pretty terrible. Worse than my day."

  "You have no idea. Trust me." I sighed. "I don't even have the energy to hassle you. I just want to go home and collapse, and that's the one thing I can't do."

  "Did you call the Thornes? I'm sure they'd be happy to have you."

  I shook my head. "They're fighting. Besides, I'd rather not, you know? They've done enough for me already."

  Ben cocked his head to the side, slightly, and I tried not to stare. The ever-shifting color of his eyes was stormy blue today, like a choppy, unpredictable ocean. "Would you accept a favor from someone that you don't owe anything to? Except maybe an apology for implying that he has an average-sized penis?"

  In the background, the cop coughed audibly and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

  "Depends," I said. "What is it?"

  I should have been running for the hills, but I was just exhausted and off-balance enough to hear him out. Whatever it was, this was a bad idea. We didn't mix. We were like oil and water, and I wasn't even sure whose fault it was anymore. I just knew that my feelings for him were in stark opposition to the way we actually interacted, and the more time I spent with him, the more I wanted...

  I didn't even know what I wanted. And that was part of the problem. As much as I hated his attitude, I loved the give-no-fucks attitude that lurked behind it.

  "Crash at my place," he said. "It's not far. At least you can have a drink, and make fun of all my rich-person furniture." He winked. "If you play your cards right, I'll let you swim around in my Scrooge McDuck pool."

  "Oh, man." I let out a long sigh, looking him up and down. He was still dressed from the office, with a deep purple tie that was probably bringing out that stormy blue in his eyes. I wondered if his suit was custom made, or just bespoke. I wondered if he had his coffee beans shipped in overnight from Colombia on a special plane. He was joking about the money pool, but I just couldn't wrap my head around this guy's day-to-day life.

  And in spite of everything, he was still trying to work...some kind of angle with me. I couldn't quite figure out what. He seemed just as frustrated by me as I was by him. Maybe he liked that sort of thing. Maybe he was a masochist.

  No, that didn't seem right.

  "Is that a yes?" He tilted his elbow towards me, like we were in a Victorian love story. "Come on, Ms. Hadley. Admit it, you're curious if I have a robot butler."

  "I am," I admitted, giving up the fight and following him. But I wasn't going to take his elbow. "I'm also curious why you're being nice to me."

  He shrugged, giving up on the overly-chivalrous gesture and shoving his hands in his pockets, with all the laissez-faire of a man who doesn't care about ruining the lines of a five thousand dollar suit. "Why the hell not?"

  "You gave up awfully easy on whatever your errand was in my neighborhood," I said, thoughtfully. "Right after I showed up. It kinda makes me wonder."

  Ben grinned at me. He was squinting a little in the sunlight, and my eyes wouldn't stop drifting to his mouth. "You got me," he said. "I was feeling a little bit conceited, so I decided, hey - what the hell, I'll stop by and see Jenna. She'll knock me down a few pegs."

  "I'll be more than happy to provide that service for you, any time you need," I told him. "But I don't really believe you."

  "That's very wise, Ms. Hadley," he said, pausing for just a moment before he darted into an intersection against the light. Cursing under my breath, I followed him, even as an approaching cabbie leaned on his horn. Ben flipped him off casually, and grabbed my wrist to pull me onto the sidewalk, and to safety. "A very wise decision, indeed."

  Chapter Eight

  Ben

  Things weren't going quite how I planned, and for once, that was a good thing.

  The thing about Jenna was that she was unpredictable. She'd show up out of the blue, her hazel eyes assessing, penetrating, wanting, and hating - not necessarily in that order. If I had a talent for photography, I'd want to capture a close-up of those eyes. They looked like a NASA picture of a nebula that exploded many millions of years ago, the sight of it only reaching us just now. Something ancient and terrible and breathtakingly beautiful.

  I had been going to see her, although I wasn't about to reveal that now. After the way our last conversation ended, it would seem weird. It was much better that we'd meet by chance like this, and I could play the role of the rescuer after her terrible, horrible no good, very bad day.

  I'd much rather have the conversation about my little marriage problem on my own turf. Yeah, this was going to be much better.

  It had to go well, otherwise, I was completely fucked.

  "We're here," I announced, taking the stairs two at a time up to the front door of my brownstone. Jenna lifted her eyebrows a little.

  "What?" I asked, pressing my thumb to the pad and punching in the code to unlock the door. "Not what you expected?"

  She shrugged a little. "Where I come from, the idle rich have much bigger houses than this. But I guess that's one of the hazards of living in the city."

  I just laughed. She hadn't seen the inside yet.

  Stepping inside, she caught her breath. I'd hired only the best to deck this place out, and I was very happy with the results. Even in the middle of New York, it still had the feel of an elegant mansion isolated on a hill.

  It was always fun to watch the realization dawn on someone's face - I didn't just have a place in this building, this building was my place.

  "You own this?" she asked, her hand resting on the glossy banister at the foot of the spiral staircase.

  I nodded. "The whole block. But this is the only place I live in."

  With a bewildered little laugh, she walked past the staircase and around the corner to poke her head into the library. "This is huge."

  It was the smallest room I had, but I didn't bother mentioning that.

  "You want a drink?" I asked her. "Something to eat? Whatever - just name it. Make yourself at home."

  She walked into the library and sat down on the leather love seat, pulling off her elegant stiletto heels. Her eyes never left me for long. "I know you brought me here for a reason, Mr. Chase, so spit it out. What is it? Do you need me to sign Daniel's birthday card?"

  Well, if she was going to play it like that.

  "Now that you mention it, there's something I could stand to discuss with you," I said, settling into the armchair opposite her. "Are you sure you don't want something to drink?"

  "I'm sure," she said. "Whatever you're about to say, I want to hear it with a clear head."

  Damn it. She could read me much better than I was strictly comfortable with.

  I began to speak.

  "Ten years ago, I was married." I could see her doing the math in her head. "Yeah, yeah, before you ask - I was too young and it was stupid. We both were."

  She raised her eyebrows slightly. "I wasn't going to say anything."

  "Okay, sure." I smirked. "But the ugly details don't matter. It was great, until it wasn't, and her cutthroat lawyer came up with the most diabolical settlement of all time. I was lovesick, so I accepted it. I didn't think she was serious. The whole thing was like wading through a nightmare. I didn't even think it was enforceable. I don't know what I thought, but I knew I was lucky that she wasn't going after alimony or spousal support, so I signed it."

  Jenna's forehead had that adorable
little wrinkle in the center, and I knew that meant she was about to say something that would infuriate the hell out of me. "You didn't have a lawyer?"

  I gritted my teeth.

  "Okay," she said, after a moment's silence. "I get it. We all make mistakes. I'm not here to sit in judgment of the way you handled your divorce." She cleared her throat lightly. "Actually, I'm not sure why I'm here."

  Right. I still hadn't gotten to the juicy part.

  "This does not leave this room," I warned her. "You understand?"

  She nodded innocently.

  "I'm serious," I said. "You don't tell anybody. Not Maddy, not Daniel, not your mom, not your priest."

  She snickered. "Do I strike you as somebody who goes to confession?"

  "Hell, I don't know your life." Shrugging, I stood up to pace the floor. I couldn't get this out if I had to look her in the face. "I agreed to give her fifty-one percent stake in my company, within two years of the divorce being finalized."

  Jenna stared.

  "Unless," I said, turning on my heel to begin the epic journey to the other side of the room. "Unless I got married, and stayed married, for a total of two years. That clock begins on the day the license is filed. If the marriage ended at any point after the original two-year time period, bam. Agreement over. Fifty-one percent to the Wicked Witch of the West."

  Snorting, she leaned back in her chair. "Right. I'm sure you were blameless in the whole thing."

  I didn't dignify that with a response. "It's been one year, and eight months," I said. "I have this bad habit of procrastinating."

  Jenna raised her eyebrow, laughing softly. "Did you even try?"

  "I figured it would just happen, you know?" I shrugged. "Take care of itself. Well, that didn't work out. Now I'm thinking I need to find another solution."

  I eyed her, trying to gauge her reaction. But it was impossible to tell if she was following my logic.

  "Or," she said, smirking, with her arms folded across her chest, "you could just admit defeat and give the woman what she deserves. She outsmarted you. And by the sounds of it, it wasn't even that hard. Just accept it."

  Was she serious?

  "Fifty-one percent, Jenna," I said, as calmly as I could manage. "I know this isn't really your area of expertise, being a drama major, but if you've ever caught a rerun of Shark Tank you'll know that means -"

  "A majority share," she said, calmly, cutting me off. "That must really sting, my condolences."

  How the hell was I going to make this woman understand what Chase Industries meant to me? She'd never been responsible for anything more important than a toaster oven. I couldn't believe Daniel trusted her with his baby.

  "Well, as a drama major, I clearly don't understand how contracts work," she said, with a very thin-lipped smile. "But I'm pretty sure, legally speaking, you're what they call completely screwed."

  I raked my hands through my hair, staring at the wall. I couldn't look at her face for one second longer. Such a smug look, on such an effortlessly sexy and infuriating woman - I could put my fist through the wall.

  Or, kiss her so hard that she forgot how to be a smartass. That was always another option. It also sounded like it was a little less likely to end in broken bones.

  Probably.

  What the hell was I doing? Focus, Chase.

  "It's not about the money," I said, finally, cringing at the sound of the words.

  She wasn't even trying to stifle her laughter anymore. "Of course it's not," she said. I heard the sound of her gathering her things and standing up - no, no, no, things was going much worse than I'd anticipated.

  "I'm not really sure why you're telling me all this," she was saying. "But unless you're about to offer me a million dollars in exchange for pretending to be your wife..."

  It was a joke, but as soon as she said it, all the blood drained from my face. I couldn't help it.

  "Mr. Chase," she said, taking a step towards me, her voice soft and tainted with disbelief. "Are you offering to pay me to marry you?"

  Reflexively, I shook my head.

  Her eyes narrowed.

  "Okay," I said, raising my hands in a gesture of surrender. "Maybe."

  "Oh, my God," she laughed. "This is...this is too good. Are you...this is a joke, right? You're pranking me. Please, let's not drag this out any further."

  She was heading for the door. Suppressing the urge to jump up and block her way out, which I figured would look pretty bad, I just said: "Where are you going to go?"

  She sighed. "I don't know. Somewhere crazy people aren't making me bizarre offers that sound like the setup to an Andie McDowell movie."

  "It's not like it's for a green card," I said, spreading my hands open in a vague gesture. I hoped it would read as come on, what the big deal? "I'm not asking you to lie to the government. I'm not asking you to commit fraud."

  "Actually, I think you are." She wasn't sitting back down yet, but at least she was standing still. "Assuming your settlement was legally binding, if I were to do this with you - if anyone were to do this with you, that's like lying to the courts. Implicitly."

  I didn't actually know the law from a hole in the ground, but she didn't know that. "Let me guess - you picked up all of your legal knowledge from Judge Judy."

  Smirking, she made her way back to the love seat. "Maybe so, but I know the difference between a lie and the truth. And what you're asking me to do - what if your ex-wife challenges it in court? You'll be asking me to commit perjury."

  "She won't," I said, with considerably more confidence than I felt. "If it's mildly convincing, she's not going to bother. Trust me. She knows I can outlast her in court, and I'm not going to give up."

  Leaning forward in her seat, she looked at me searchingly. "How do you plan on explaining you just happen to be getting married right before the deadline?"

  Ah ha. I smiled, leaning back in my seat. I'd actually put some thought into this, and I was rather proud of it. "So, this one requires fudging the truth a little bit. But Daniel's...you know, he's techy, and he's got a bunch of those types who will do his bidding. We'll create a false history of correspondence between us, going back a year or two. Daria and I met online, so that'll be a very believable origin story for us. If I make it seem as though I've been really interested in you for a long time, and we've been slowly moving along in the progression of our relationship, it makes sense that I'd eventually tell you about my dilemma and of course you'd agree to help me. But I waited as long as I could, because I didn't want to scare you off - I didn't want to put pressure on you. I didn't want to ruin what we had."

  She was processing all of this, but she didn't immediately laugh it off. I took that as a positive sign.

  "So, I only just moved here a couple weeks ago, and we're already talking about marriage?" She hugged her arms close to her torso. "Do you usually move that fast?"

  "Like I said - I'm going to create a history. You can get to know somebody pretty well over a long-distance relationship."

  Jenna raised an eyebrow. "Evidently not well enough."

  Sighing, I massaged my temples. "I lived with Daria for years before I had any idea who she really was. The way we met didn't matter. People who want to hide can always hide, even when you're looking them right in the face."

  The irony wasn't lost on me. I was asking for an absurd amount of trust from her, and there was no getting around that.

  She was wavering on the edge of a decision. I could tell. Before I could stop myself, I said:

  "Do you really want to be a nanny for the rest of your life?"

  There was a moment of heavy silence.

  "I'm not a nanny," she said, her mouth twisting. "I told you, I was just helping out that day."

  "Daniel told me he hired you." I steepled my fingers together, staring at the Newton's cradle on my desk. "I'm not really sure why you bothered to hide it."

  "Because. You, and everybody else in the known world, thinks it's stupid to try and be an actor. You all think
I'm going to fail, and you can't wait to give me well-meaning advice about it." Bitterness tinged her voice. "I don't need to give anybody more ammunition. Most people work on the side while they're trying to get started with acting. But if I do it, suddenly it's a sign that I need to just give up."

  I could feel the tide of fear and insecurity behind her fierce defensiveness. There was no reasoning with her - not when she already thought I didn't believe in her.

  "Think about it a different way," I said. "Wouldn't this be the performance of a lifetime?"

  She let out a soft, humorless laugh. "Sure. But what difference would it make? Nobody except you and me will know."

  If I was right, this would eventually sink in. Her own self-doubt would assure that she eventually accepted my offer. She needed to prove her abilities to herself, much more than she needed to prove them to anyone else.

  "I'm not asking you for an answer today," I said. "Just think about it. If you have any questions, ask. In the meantime, we can talk about something else. Or nothing. You can go watch TV if you want, and pretend I'm not even here. I just thought it was high time for me to be honest with you." I lifted my hands in a supplicating gesture. "And whatever you say, whatever you decide, you're welcome to stay here until your street opens back up."

  She bit on her lower lip. "How long have you been planning to ask me about this?"

  "Not long." It wasn't exactly a lie. "You just seem sensible and level-headed, and I think Daria would believe I might fall for somebody like you."

  She bit down harder. I'd said it very casually, almost thoughtlessly, but it had the desired impact. No matter how she felt about me, that was flattering.

  Finally, she released her now-swollen lip with a little pop. "Did you really think that would work?" she asked, with a sardonic smile.

  "What?" I said, innocently. "It's true. Come on, Jenna - give me a little credit. Shallow flattery obviously isn't going to work on someone like you."

  She laughed, rolling her eyes as she stood up. "You are something else. If I ask where your bathroom is, will you be able to answer me without calculating the best possible wording for the flattery of the human female?"