by K. I. Lynn
I froze as I tried to decipher what he’d just said. The name weighed on me before settling in my stomach, then dropping the floor out from beneath me.
“Who did you just say?”
“Mr. Atticus de Loughrey. You better get going—he doesn’t tolerate tardiness.”
I gave a shaky nod while I tried to find words and managed to unintelligibly thank him as I stepped away.
De Loughrey.
Atticus was a de Loughrey.
For the last year that I’d known Atticus, I knew he had money. From the hotel penthouse that night to the hundreds he spent on lunch twice a week. But being a de Loughrey? I never in my life thought I would ever meet one, let alone sleep with one.
I swallowed hard, my heart hammering in my chest with each step that closed the gap between me and the looming elevator. I slipped the card into the reader, the doors immediately opened, and as I stepped into the cab, it hit me.
Oh my God, I fucked a de Loughrey!
I’d thought about that night so many times since my birthday. It was shocking when I found him sitting at the head of the table in a private dining room a week after that. The way his blue eyes widened in shock. I didn’t know what to do other than to go into my greeting, and we never spoke about it. We never even hinted at it until yesterday, but I was always thinking about it.
The man I remembered was just an illusion compared to reality. At first, I thought he was just angry with a mistake I’d made, but I came to learn that he was just brash. A harsh contrast to the man I met that night.
When the elevator closed in, only slowing when it reached the top floors, did I understand. The highest floors usually correlated with the highest in the company, and the doors opened at the top.
Atticus’s bad attitude came from his position. More work and responsibility went hand-in-hand with greater stress. That didn’t mean his mood was excusable, it just meant I finally got why he hid away at lunch. Why the restaurant catered to making him a sanctuary.
I wasn’t even a step out of the elevator when a woman appeared in front of me. She was almost my height in heels, with sleek brown hair and warm brown eyes.
“Welcome, Miss Evans. My name is Holly, I’m Mr. de Loughrey’s personal assistant.”
“H-hi,” I stuttered. It was all really settling in.
“Follow me,” she said with a reassuring smile.
My stomach was in knots as we walked, clenching and unclenching, and as we passed the placard next to a huge wooden door, I nearly threw up—Atticus de Loughrey, CEO.
Chief Executive Officer.
The highest-ranking person in the company.
Oh my God, I slept with the CEO of the de Loughrey Corporation!
It wasn’t a thought of excitement, but fear and confusion. How did I not know? I tried to think back on all the magazines I’d seen with the family faces, but most of the faces that graced the covers were the women in the family, and not always for the right reasons.
She opened the door and my heart stopped at the sight of him behind a large wooden executive desk.
Holly smiled at me, but I could feel the blood draining from my face as I willed my feet to move.
“Mr. de Loughrey, Miss Evans for you.”
He didn’t look up, only nodded. “Thank you, Holly.” A few keystrokes, and then his gaze skipped right past me to the wall behind me. “On time. Good.”
“What is this all about, Mr. de Loughrey?” I accentuated his name. As far as I was aware, nobody at the restaurant knew who he was, other than an investor.
“Good morning, Miss Evans,” he greeted, mimicking my use of his last name. “I trust you had no issues downstairs?”
“None,” I said. “A little surprised, especially with all that we’ve been through.”
“You didn’t need my last name to enjoy my cock, if I remember.”
I folded my arms over my chest, ignoring his gesture to the chairs in front of him. I wanted to get to the point of what this was all about.
“Is that why I’m here? My birthday is coming up, though this year I think I’ll pass on your cock.”
The grin that spread over his face made me shiver. “You’re making me want to change your mind on that, but giving you multiple mind-blowing orgasms is not the reason I’ve brought you here today. I have a business proposition for you.”
Business? “I’m not sure I’m inclined to listen to it.”
“It involves an eight-figure payout.”
I froze, my gaze stuck to the left of him, on the New York City skyline beyond that large floor-to-ceiling window.
Eight figures? For that amount of money, I could completely change my life. Get out of this hellhole of a city, away from my family, and start over. The problem was, who did he want me to kill for that amount?
Slowly I turned to meet his steely gaze that was pinned on me. “If it involves anything sexual, you can forget about it.”
“What it involves would only be sexual if you want it to.” His gaze roamed down my body, then back up, his lip twitching up. “I would not be opposed at all.”
I narrowed my gaze. Yep, back to killing people. That was what people paid that kind of money for, right? Sex and death?
“What do you want then?”
“Sit.” He gestured again to one of the button-back leather chairs that sat opposite his large executive desk. With a sigh, I sat, crossing my arms in front of me.
“Before we begin, I need you to sign this.” He slid a piece of paper and a pen my way.
“What is it?”
“A non-disclosure agreement. You will never speak to anyone about what we talk about today.”
My stomach clenched again. He was getting legal about a conversation? Our eyes were locked for a moment, neither moving before I leaned forward. My eyes scanned the page and found nothing amiss but a standard NDA.
With a quick swipe of a pen, my lips were sealed.
Once completed, he took a photo with his phone before turning his attention back to me. “I’m in need of a proxy.”
“What is that?”
He twirled his hand in the air. “A stand-in, or in regard to this matter, a temporary.”
“For what?”
“The future Mrs. de Loughrey.”
I shook my head. “You’re not making any sense.”
“And I quite possibly won’t until you agree. Right now, all you need to understand is that in exchange for five years of your life, I will give you ten million dollars. Plus clothes and food and all the necessities, of course. The ten million is your flat fee.”
Ten million? “Dollars?”
“Yes, dollars.”
“What do I have to do?”
“Marry me and bear me a child.”
I blinked at him, trying to process what the hell was going on. Was I being punked? Was this a rich asshole practical joke? Was there some bet for a dollar between him and his brother to see if I’d fall for such an insane idea?
“You want to marry me?” It was the most screwed-up proposal I’d ever imagined and would forever go down in history as the first marriage proposal I received. I wasn’t even going to touch the “bear me a child” part yet.
“Yes.”
A laugh sprung from me, but his serious expression brought me to a halt. “You’re joking, right?”
“I don’t joke.”
Fuck. He was serious.
I rolled over the basics again in my head—five years, ten million dollars, one child. Too good to be true, especially with his looks and status. What did he need some broke girl from Brooklyn for?
“What’s the catch?”
“There are a few, but they aren’t what you are thinking. We will be married in January, and hopefully, a year later, you will birth my first heir. If a second one happens in the timeframe, all the better. Once the five years are over, you are free to do whatever you like.”
I blinked at him in complete confusion. None of it made sense. He had money, lots of it—tons—
and because of that, coupled with his good looks, and he could have any woman he desired, so I was back to why me?
No, there was something weird going on.
“And why do you think I’d even contemplate agreeing to this insane idea? Buying me to be your wife?”
“Because I’m offering you a life you could only dream of and a payout that will possibly ensure you never have to work again.”
“This is a heavy proposal,” I said as it began to sink in.
“The fact that you are still sitting in front of me gives me hope you are entertaining the idea of becoming my wife. I will stress, this is a one-time-only offer. You will, of course, have some time to think it over, but after that, if you decide to decline, then later change your mind, it’s off the table.”
“How much time?”
“I’ll see you back here at the same time tomorrow.”
I stood, my mind whirling. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Before you go,” he said, stopping me from walking away. “I will remind you to remain silent on this matter. Speak to no one about what we have discussed.”
I nodded and swallowed. As if anyone would believe me anyway. The idea was ludicrous. So out there, even I was having difficulty believing it was real.
I also would never tell anyone because I knew the de Loughreys had the backing to sue me for all the money I would ever make in this life and the next if I broke the agreement. You didn’t cross them, or you paid the price—and it wasn’t always money.
A leather binder was placed in front of me, one of those legal ones that opened at the top, and pressed into the tightly bound hide was the de Loughrey logo.
“This is the preliminary contract. Look it over, and we can discuss any issues in the morning.”
I numbly nodded, suddenly having a strange out-of-body experience as the weight of reality pressed down upon me. After slipping the document in my bag, I turned to leave.
“Nine sharp,” he said as I gripped the door handle. I turned to look back at him, our gazes locked as I exited.
Autopilot drove me to the train station, and I stared blankly in front of me. On the one hand, I should have been insulted. On the other hand—ten million dollars.
Could I stand five years with him? He was a busy man, so technically, I wouldn’t see him much, right?
Selling myself as a fake wife. Could I do it, pretend to be something I wasn’t, act like a doting wife to a man like Atticus de Loughrey? Be a de Loughrey?
Those were the thoughts that had my heart slamming in my chest.
Atticus represented everything that was wrong with the world. Greed and privilege, patriarchy and the belief that women are nothing but holes to fuck. And I hated that, but not as much as I hated myself for wanting a taste of him again.
It would be a life most only dreamed about, but was it something I wanted? More than that, was it something I could even do?
Could I really kneel before the king?
I stared across my tiny-ass studio apartment. The main room was small and barely held my day bed, sofa chair, and bistro set. The TV sat atop a cube storage unit where all twelve cubes were stuffed solid. Then, there was my joke of a kitchen where you couldn’t even open the oven all the way, thanks to the fridge…which also didn’t open all the way. There was no counter space, and only a sink.
Fifteen hundred a month was insane for the small space, but with no car and just enough money to get by, there was no way out. I was stuck in the vicious cycle of insane rental prices in an expensive and crowded city.
If I lived with Atticus, I had a feeling my bathroom would be larger than the room I was sitting in. Just the idea of what he was asking was insane. How could I say yes to that?
I slipped open my credit card bill and winced at the number listed, and it was only the minimum payment due.
In order to get away from my crappy home life, I was left living on pennies, and now one of the sexiest men I’ve ever seen was offering me freedom from all that. No more debt and money to spare for the low cost of my dignity, five years, and a baby with a man I didn’t exactly like.
I didn’t exactly dislike him either.
Especially late at night with my vibrator.
I might have lied about my memories of that night. They were vivid, erotic, and got me off many nights. They were also one deterrent in my dating life. What was the saying? Don’t mess with perfection? I wasn’t sure it could get better than the one night I spent with Atticus. Part of me didn’t even want to try.
There was an attraction, one that worried me if I did decide to say yes to the insanity. I didn’t want to say yes and then fall into the trap of basically being a readily available pussy who had to allow his advances because he held all the money and power. As pleasurable as it would be, I wasn’t going to prostitute myself, which was how it felt.
If I was going to do it, there would be concessions, and the man who had everything but a wife was going to be making them. I would hold some power, even if it was just a small amount, solely to prove to him that I wouldn’t be walked all over.
If I thought sleep had left me the night before our meeting, it was nothing compared to the night after. All night long I watched the light move across the ceiling as I went over things again and again. The answer wasn’t an easy yes or no, but a multi-layer complication of emotion, attraction, and expectation.
In the harsh light of day, I took in the state in which I was living—really took it in. I was almost twenty-seven, meaning I’d be almost thirty-two when all was said and done. Plenty of time to find my forever kind of love and, thanks to the payout, I could do it in style.
Still, every step I changed my mind, back and forth. I hadn’t eaten either, and it probably wasn’t a good thing that I was making major life decisions with nothing in my stomach, but it was too knotted to handle anything.
The way through security went the same as the day before, and just as then, Holly greeted me with a smile when the doors opened. It was almost a knowing smile, and I wondered if she knew. She had to, right?
When I entered his office, he finished up whatever he was typing, then turned his attention to me. It was then that I remembered how the entire time I was in his presence the day before, his focus was solely on me.
With more ease than the day before, I sat down, then I took a deep breath and rolled my shoulders back in preparation for battle. Atticus was a strong man, but he wasn’t going to steamroll me.
When our eyes met, he gave a small nod. I supposed it was to indicate he was ready.
“Why me?” No pleasantries, I was coming out swinging. This was a business deal, and I was going to treat it as such. By the twitch of his lip, it was a move he appreciated.
“Because you know me better than most.”
I shook my head. “I know hardly anything about you. Until yesterday, I didn’t even know your last name.”
“If that is so, then why did you suggest the wagyu steak the other day?”
Fuck. He was right, in a way. Maybe I didn’t know the particulars about him, like his last name, but over the last year, I’d become very much acquainted with his moods.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” I said in an attempt to brush it off. “I can guess your mood based on the depth of the crease of your brow. The deeper it is, the richer you like the flavors.”
“And there is another way you know me. Intimately.”
I ignored the way his tone dropped, making the hairs on my body to stand up as a shiver rolled through me. “Those memories have faded.”
“Have they?” His eyes darkened, and his lip twitched. “You smell like lavender and linen with a hint of grapefruit. Your pussy is sweet and tight, and grasped my dick like it was a mold custom made for me and me alone. You swallowed my cock with expertise all the way down to the base. Your skin is soft, and your moans could make any man come just from the sound.”
I swallowed and picked at the strap of my bag. I could feel the heat rise to my che
eks as it also settled between my legs, but I wasn’t going to let the smug bastard know he was affecting me. “No sex.”
There was no way he’d agree to such terms, giving me a way to decline.
He leaned back and folded his hands in front of him. That severe gaze of his tore into me. It was one I’d become familiar with over the last year. “How are you going to give me an heir, then?”
I waved a hand in the air as I shrugged. “Artificial insemination or something. I’m just not going to be some rich boy’s sex toy. You said business, so this is business. Having money doesn’t mean you have the automatic right to touch me.”
“You think I’d allow my child to be created through such sterile means?”
“No. Sex.”
His glare deepened, but I wasn’t backing down. “Fine,” he relented, but before I could celebrate my victory, he did a one-eighty on me. “Fine, but if we aren’t having sex, then I’m allowed to have mistresses.”
I shook my head, staying firm in my conviction. “No sex means no sex. I’m not going to be parading around on your arm only to be humiliated by everyone around me who knows you’re cheating on me. Just imagine the newspaper headlines.”
He clenched his teeth. “You want me to go without sex for five years?”
“If I do, you will. If you want me to fill this role, that is the price.” It was a gamble, and the answer would tell me more than he would—he wanted me as his wife, above others. I was his first pick.
The solidity of his form told me he was keeping himself in check, if only by a thread. Men like Atticus were used to getting what they wanted without objection. People didn’t defy him, and his aura screamed his displeasure. Every muscle was tense as I waited.
“I thought the price was ten million dollars and to live in luxury for five years, your every whim and desire met.”
Tennis, then. A back and forth. Still, not immediately dismissing me and my restrictions was eye opening.
“Because I can see this for the life-changing transaction it is going to be, and I’m not talking about the money. I want to come out of this with my self-respect intact.”