I Married a Master

by Melanie Marchande

  Why did I think it would be a good idea to marry her, again?

  "Down the hall, second door on the right."

  As she left the room, I remembered.

  No, not because of that. Well - not entirely because of that, at any rate.

  It was the way I felt whenever she walked away angry at me. Like something was wrong in the world, and I had to fix it.

  Chase, you are in deep trouble.

  ***

  When she found me a little while later, I was in the kitchen, fighting a silent battle with myself. I heard her walk up, and noticed her standing in the doorway without actually seeing her there.

  "A million dollars? That's lunch money to you, Mr. Chase. You're going to have to do better than that."

  I was going to offer her two million, but she'd managed to stomp all over my very well-scripted and impressive offer. I was even going to go down on one knee - in an ironic way, of course. I'd never actually marry this woman. One of us would end up dead before the honeymoon was over.

  "You drive a hard bargain," I told her. "Two million. But that's my final offer."

  She laughed. "How much did you have to drink while I was gone?"

  "Nothing," I told her. "I'm as serious as a fucking graveyard."

  "I don't think that's a saying." She looked at me, searchingly. "Are you really...I mean, why me? And more importantly, did you think this through? It's a terrible idea. I'm not even sure I buy your story. Who willingly signs away a majority share of their business on that kind of condition?"

  "A very stupid man," I said. "But I think that's been well established, at this point."

  Her face softened slightly. To my utter astonishment, she drifted to one of the stools and sat down. "You still love her, don't you?"

  My mouth twisted. "Not even remotely. I promise."

  "I don't believe you," she said, softly. "You mean there's not a place, in the corner of your mind, where you're still together? Where you can't just write off? You can't pretend it never happened?"

  For the first time since Daria left, I felt that peculiar sharp pain in my chest.

  "No," I said, sharply. Too quickly. "I'm done with her."

  "That's not what I asked." She cocked her head. "There's what you decide about somebody, and there's the way you feel about them."

  "Thank you, Dr. Jung." I was walking away from her, without consciously meaning to. I was heading for the fridge, seeking the comfort I'd forsaken long ago. There was nothing but half a box of muesli and some almond milk. Ever since I'd been single, I'd completely lost the ability to control my eating habits. My only option was to buy nothing but whole-grain cereals and vegan milk substitutes - otherwise, I'd be filming my own special for TLC.

  "That doesn't even make sense," she pointed out. "Did you ever study psychology?"

  "No." I stared at the muesli like it had personally betrayed me. "Do you want to order a pizza?"

  There was a moment of silence.

  "What?" she asked, barely stifling a chuckle.

  "Nothing." I turned around to face her. "If you don't want to, then, fine. I meant what I said. There's no pressure."

  "I mean, never say never." Jenna grinned. "I could always go for some pizza."

  "I'm not talking about the pizza." With a quiet noise of frustration, I raked my fingers through my hair. "The pizza is off the table. The other offer stands, at least until you stab me in the throat."

  "I would never," she said, with a sparkle in her eyes. "You're not worth it."

  Well then.

  "But I don't know why you're writing off the pizza. I think this conversation would go a lot better over some cheese and pepperoni."

  The memory came back in a rush. Daria and I had our first date in a hotel, watching Mystery Science Theater and eating thin crust Domino's with cheese and pepperoni.

  I was a different person back then. Everything felt so important, every moment filled with the kind of overwhelming passion that most people only ever read about. We were smugly absorbed in our delirious love, and anyone who told us we should think about gently, gently applying the brakes - well, they just didn't understand.

  To put it plainly, we moved too fast.

  I wasn't going to make that mistake again. No matter how much Jenna made me wonder - made me want to know how much of a smartass she'd be, once she was crawling across my kitchen floor in nothing but a frilly apron - I wasn't going to rush into anything again.

  Sex just confused everything. Sure, when I'd met Daria, I was nineteen - I liked to think I'd matured considerably since then. Certainly, my brain had. I wasn't sure about other parts of my anatomy.

  And that was why I had to stay far away from Jenna. Well - unless she agreed to be my wife. But even then, I'd be careful.

  You're being an idiot, is what you're being. You really think you'll be able to resist her, once she's living with you?

  Doesn't matter. She'll resist me.

  I liked to tell myself that, but there was absolutely no denying the way she looked at me. Beneath all the exasperation and frustration, there was always that undercurrent - a certain look in her eyes, or a curve to her smile, betraying how much she just wanted to peel off my suits and find out if I really looked as good as the expertly-tailored fabric implied.

  Jenna was still staring at me, with something like pity on her face. And I absolutely could not abide that.

  "If you don't want to do it, fine," I said, making a dismissive gesture as I turned back to the fridge. "I'll find someone else."

  The thought of finding someone else brought on that rising tide of panic, the one that welled up in my throat, threatening to drown me. How? Where? It had to be someone I could trust, someone I knew I could live with...

  Jenna didn't really fit either of those stipulations, but for some reason, the idea of her as my fake bride was soothing. Maybe because I knew I could count on her honesty. Maybe because, as an aspiring actor, she was motivated.

  And maybe because I wanted to torture myself.

  "Wait." She was chewing on her lip, thoughtfully. "A million five. And I still get to live my life. I'll fulfill my obligations in public, of course, but you're not going to control what I do in my time off - as long as it doesn't undermine the show we're putting on."

  I stared at her, my mind racing. "Are you bargaining with me?"

  "Yes," she said, archly. "So, go on - what, exactly, would you need me to do? What's it going to take to convince your ex-wife and her lawyer that we're really an item?"

  Clearing my throat, I turned back to face her. "Well, there's the obvious. We'll need to be seen together, and frequently. You'll be visiting my office at lunch, and coming to meet me after work - the way any disgustingly love-struck couple would do. You'll come with me to every charity dinner, every fundraiser night. I'll pay for everything, of course, your clothes, whatever you need...that goes without saying."

  "I should certainly hope so." She crossed her arms, a gesture of hers I'd grown to hate. And not just because it covered up some of her charming assets. "And that's it?"

  I didn't know what she was driving at. "More or less, yes."

  "What about..." she uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, delicately. "Public displays of affection?"

  "Oh." I shrugged, unable to tear my eyes away from her lips. I really hadn't been thinking about that before, but I sure as hell was now. "We'll hold hands, sometimes we'll kiss, I guess. Just follow my lead."

  Jenna let out a little closed-mouthed laugh. "There's kissing, and then there's kissing," she said. "Which one are we talking about, here?"

  Was she trying to throw me off-balance, or did she actually want to negotiate this ahead of time? All right, it wasn't the craziest thing ever. If full-on face sucking was going to make her too uncomfortable, then we could promise to keep things on the chaste side. But damn, I'd been turning this plan over and over in my head for ages, and it never occurred to me that this might be an issue.

  And now, I couldn't stop thinking
about kissing her. Not just a dry peck on the lips, either.

  Maybe that was what she wanted. My eyes narrowed as I looked at her, trying to figure out what she was playing at. Did she think I'd offer up more money if it meant having my tongue in her mouth?

  Would I?

  "Is that going to make a difference?" I said, finally.

  Her smile was full of secrets and promise, or maybe she was just toying with me. I could never be sure. "If it wasn't going to make a difference, I wouldn't be asking. This isn't a zero-sum thing. I can always ask for more concessions. See what you're willing to do for me, in exchange for what I'm willing to do for you." She shifted slightly in her seat. "Business, Mr. Chase. You might be familiar with it."

  "All right, fine." I circled the island, coming closer to her, watching for a reaction. She always seemed more confident when we had some distance between us. "So, if you really think it'll be that bad to kiss me - what do you want in return?"

  She laughed, color rising in her cheeks. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. I'm sure it's not going to be unpleasant, but it's...intimate." Clearing her throat lightly, she went on, eyes still fixed on my face. "Generally, when people have to be intimate with strangers, there's some kind of concession made."

  I really hadn't expected that. Snickering, I slid onto the stool that was furthest away from her. But I was still close enough to notice the minute changes in her body language. "I figured you'd be offended it I brought up that comparison," I said. "Anyway, it's not really like that at all. If anything, this is more like what you want to do for a living. Just acting. Do actors usually get paid more if they have to kiss?"

  "Actors don't kiss with tongue," she said, bluntly. Her ears were burning, but she wasn't going to show her embarrassment voluntarily.

  Smiling, I leaned on the counter. "You're not watching the right movies. But, okay, fine. You want to put a price on it. Go ahead."

  Jenna folded her arms tighter. There was annoyance and disappointment in her eyes. She'd been half-expecting me to offer her a test drive, and she hated that I didn't. She hated it because it meant she was wrong about me, but also because there was a tiny part of her that wanted to.

  Maybe not so tiny. She glanced at my mouth, and I was pretty sure it wasn't just because I couldn't stop worrying at the side of my thumb with my teeth.

  "If you're curious about my tongue, I can provide references on that, as well." I grinned.

  Rolling her eyes, she stood up. "Okay, that's enough of that. I'm going to see if they've opened up my street yet."

  She was fumbling with her phone.

  "Wait," I said, feeling the tide of desperation rise again. "Jenna, please - I know I've been...flip about this. Hell, I'm flip about most things. But it's serious. Whatever you need to feel comfortable, I'll do it. Just...please, think about it."

  I hated being in a position of weakness. Daria had proved how badly I could allow myself to be taken advantage of, when that happened. But something about Jenna made it hard to play it cool. I knew I had the upper hand in a lot of ways - I could offer her money, and security, and a lot of things she wouldn't have otherwise. A job sitting for the Thornes was a pretty sweet gig, but it wasn't going to last forever. I was offering her an actor's dream: enough money to live on while she searched for that one role that would make her a star.

  All the same, she always had the power to walk away. And that terrified me.

  She looked at me with an expression that bordered on pity. I hated that, but not as much as I hated the idea of her leaving.

  "It hasn't been that long," I said, in a more quiet, even tone. "Your street's gotta be closed still. Just stay for a little while longer. We don't have to talk about it anymore. We'll play cards."

  Her mouth twisted slightly, with something like amusement. "You want to play cards?"

  "Come on." I smiled back at her. "I know there's some tiny part of you that doesn't hate me. Try and tap into that, just for long enough to enjoy a couple hands of strip poker."

  God damn it, I really didn't know when to stop.

  "I'm kidding," I said, quickly. "I mean, unless you have a pressing desire to get naked."

  Thankfully, she grinned. "I think you caught me on the wrong day for that."

  Chapter Nine

  Jenna

  As it turned out, Ben had a whole poker set, complete with fancy chips and a crisp deck of cards that looked completely untouched.

  I won the first two hands, through pure luck, of course. Although I always did have a pretty good poker face. And to be fair, Ben was probably a little bit distracted.

  Why the hell was I still here?

  Well, he was right. There was some not-so-tiny corner of my mind that didn't hate him. Hell, until recently, I'd actually been hoping he would ask me out on a date. Now that possibility seemed to have flown out the window, but I had to admit, I kind of enjoyed the flirtation. It wasn't entirely unpleasant to think about kissing him. Or kissing him, for that matter.

  I felt slightly off-balance, the strangeness of the day, of the situation, taking a firm hold on me. It was a bit like being drunk, except there was an extreme sense of clarity. I'd started the day with a bold decision, and I hadn't allowed myself to think twice. It hadn't ended well, but that didn't stop the strange head-rush. It was addictive. Full speed ahead, and damn the consequences. Was this how people like Ben lived all the time? Knowing there would always be some kind of cushion to catch them if they fell?

  "I feel like I have an unfair advantage," I said, throwing down my cards.

  He nodded, that rakish grin showing only a hint of the nerves he must feel. "You do," he said. "But I was going to be a gentleman about it."

  "I'm leaning towards yes," I confessed. "But I'm reserving the right to change my mind, if anything seems off."

  His eyes were shining with hopefulness, and anticipation. "What do you mean, 'off?'"

  "I mean, if it turns out you were lying about anything you told me. The reasons why you need to do this. I don't particularly care why, but if I can't trust you, then I can't do this. It goes both ways."

  He nodded. "That's fair. If there's anything you want to ask me..."

  Interlacing my fingers, I leaned towards him slightly.

  "I want to see the settlement," I said, finally.

  Ben blinked a few times, looking relieved. "That's only fair," he responded, quietly. I'd expected more resistance, but instead he walked over to a safe in the wall and punched in a code, blocking the number pad with his body.

  He brought me a sheaf of papers that looked and felt official enough. I paged through it, glossed over the legalese that didn't seem to have much pertinence. However, there was enough of it to make me believe it was the real thing.

  Then again, if Ben was committed to fakery, he would've put in some effort. Really, this proved nothing. But I felt better holding it.

  "I'm afraid I can't let that leave this room," he said, after a long silence. "But if there's anything else I can do to ease your mind, just let me know."

  Something furry brushed against my ankle.

  "Oh!" I looked down, seeing the bright green eyes surrounded by orange fur. The cat purred loudly, rubbing his body against my leg as I scratched behind his ears. "I kind of thought you were kidding about the cats."

  "You're not allergic, are you?" he asked.

  I shook my head. "Do you really have three?"

  "Believe it or not." He laughed. "Everybody told me you can't have just one, and I didn't believe them, until the first time I walked by the adoption center in the pet store and I thought to myself, well, I've already got all the supplies..." He rolled his eyes a little, but he was still smiling. "That's Harry. They found him under a car when he was just a kitten."

  The tabby was taking a liking to me. With a tiny oomph noise, he jumped up on the sofa beside me and poked experimentally at my lap.

  "He's the alpha," Ben said. "If you buy into that sort of thing."

  "Sure, he seem
s like a real killer." I stroked Harry's neck as he curled up on my lap, purring contentedly.

  "He knows when to pick his battles. There's no point in fighting with the beings who give him unlimited food and warmth." Ben was grinning. "Cats, on the other hand, are competition."

  I glanced around the room. "Is that why the others are conspicuously missing?"

  "You'll meet them eventually," he said. "Carl and Lizzie don't have as strong personalities."

  Giggling, I rubbed Harry's vibrating ribcage. "You really sound like a crazy cat lady. I hope you know that."

  "See, you've got to rescue me from this before I'm too far gone." He was joking, kind of, but there was real exasperation in his tone. It was like he was so tired of being single that he was anxious to just play at being married, even if it wasn't real.

  "What do you think, Harry?" I looked down to the cat for advice. He blinked at me sleepily. His green eyes were almost the same shade as his owners', in a certain light. "You want to see a lot more of me soon?"

  Ben raised his eyebrows. "Are you hitting on my cat?"

  "Gross." Apparently, I was still capable of blushing. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

  "He's not very good at giving advice." Ben looked at me searchingly, his face going serious again. "So can I get a conditional yes?"

  I sighed. "Okay. Yes. A thousand times, conditional yes."

  "Fantastic." He grinned, gathering up the cards. "Celebratory hand?"

  "Sure, why not." I expected the weight of my decision to come crashing down on me, but I felt strangely calm. Maybe that was a good sign. Or maybe it was just a sign of impending insanity. I couldn't really be sure.

  "You don't think this is going to look a little bit suspicious?" I bit my lip, glancing at him. "We've known each other for all of, what, six weeks?"

  He shrugged. "What's suspicious? I've got money, you're sex on a stick, I don't think anyone's going to question why we're together."

  I would've turned bright red, if I had any capacity left for embarrassment. As it was, I just stared at him.