Page 18 of The Prince's Green Card Scheme

I don’t say anything, letting my silence be answer enough.

“Come on, then,” she says, holding out her hand. “Are they ready for us yet?”

I glance up at the receptionist, and she nods with a small smile. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Have you been waiting for long?” Chloe asks.

“Yeah,” I say sheepishly, rubbing the back of my neck. “I was bored.”

She doesn’t comment on the fact that I must have gotten here really early, but I can see the thought glistening behind her eyes.

Carefully, and desperately wanting to change the conversation, I take hold of her hand. She nods at me, and together we step up to the reception desk. The receptionist glances down at her computer. “Paul and Chloe, yes?”

“Yes,” we say in unison.

The woman clicks a few things on her computer, then nods. “Okay. Thanks for waiting. Mr. Hopkins is nearly ready for you. If you take a seat, he’ll get you soon.”

“Thank you,” I say, but before we can go and sit down, a man in a well-fitting suit comes through the door.

“Paul and Chloe?” he asks with a toothy smile. “Come with me.”

We follow him through some corridors into a simple office room. He gestures to us to take a seat. “Welcome,” he says. “I’m glad to have you here.”

“We’re glad to be here,” I say, ignoring the side-eye Chloe gives me.

“All right,” he says, taking his own seat, slapping his hands down on his thighs. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” I say decisively, then look at Chloe. She nods with slightly less certainty, her smile not quite real.

I hope Mr. Hopkins doesn’t think that we’re being strange or suspicious. I guess he’s probably seen worse than us. At least we have the appearance of liking each other.

“Okay, then. I have some paperwork for you. But before we get to signing, if you want to say anything to each other, now’s a perfect time.”

We turn to each other, staring into each other’s eyes, each waiting for the other to start. I realize that I didn’t prepare one single thing to say about the woman who’s technically about to become my wife. Not that I even know enough about her to start making a speech — but the officiant is looking at us expectantly, so someone has to say something.

I take hold of Chloe’s hands and smile warmly at her. “Chloe, you are one of the kindest, most generous women I’ve ever met,” I say. She blinks in surprise, like she wasn’t expecting me to say anything like this. “You’ve made me feel the happiest I’ve felt in a long while, and I’ve had a lot of fun in the time I’ve known you. I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am that you’ve agreed to be my wife.”

The officiant purses his lips, then smiles, and I get the sense that he’s holding back a comment. I guess there are one too many men who fail to say anything nice about the woman they’re supposed to love.

It’s not like I’m even technically lying or anything, anyway. Iamgrateful to Chloe. She’s giving me everything I want.

Realizing that she should probably say something too, Chloe squeezes my hands. “I’m grateful too,” she starts, then bites her lip, stalling as she tries to summon words to match those I’ve just said to her.

I’m glad I’m not the only one who forgot to write fake vows.

To Mr. Hopkins, I suppose we probably just look like a nervous young couple rather than two people who are doing this for somekind of arrangement. That’s good. That’s not going to raise any suspicions.

This is all going swimmingly.

“You’ve given me more of an opportunity than you can ever know,” Chloe continues. “And if I had to call anyone my husband, I’m glad that it’s someone as caring and giving as you.” She smiles, satisfied with her vow.

“Great,” says Mr. Hopkins in what might be the most businesslike tone ever. “All right. So, because yours is a bit of a special case, unfortunately that means there’s going to be a lot more to sign than is typical. We’ll start with the easy one.”

He produces several sheets of paper, all written in my native tongue. Chloe squints at the Bellamari, trying to decode it. Does she even speak a word of it at all? It’s not a language they teach in schools over here, and it’s unlikely that her dad was able to teach her based on how young she was when he died. I wonder what she thinks of it. It’s not exactly Italian, but to the unpracticed ear it’s close enough.

“Because you are both Bellamari citizens, this is a legal record showing that your marriage will be recognized both here in the US and in Bellamare. It should grant you both all the same legal rights as any citizen would get over there.”

I clench my fist to stop myself grinning too widely. I can’t believe this was so easy.

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