Page 219 of The Black Trilogy

“What’s new? I can’t even be sarcastic because then they insist on a cavity search. Which you gentlemen may get excited about, but let me assure you, it’s something I could live without.”

“I’ll order another bottle of wine.”

“Can’t you just get me a fake US passport? You got me a UK one.”

“Under a different name, yes, but we need to keep Blackwood above board, at least on the surface. If you leave under one name and come back under a different one, suspicions will be raised. How about I buy a jet instead?”

“That wouldn’t help. I’d still have to go through the same channel at immigration and the jobsworths keep asking questions about my employment. They struggle to believe a twenty-year-old is a partner in a security company, and it’s not as if I can go into lots of detail. Half the stuff I do is classified.”

“Maybe if you told them you were a secretary instead?” Nate suggested.

“I don’t think having an admin job and nothing else to tie me to the States would be conducive to my application for citizenship, which will take years, by the way, since I’ve got no family here. I need more wine.”

Black signalled to the bartender, but I couldn’t wait. I grabbed his glass of red instead.

Nate drummed his fingers on the table then snapped them in front of my face. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Please, I’m dying to hear it.”

“Why don’t you two get married?”

Black choked on an olive, and I spat out the mouthful of Merlot I’d just taken.

“Exactly how much have you had to drink, buddy?” Black asked.

“Only a couple of beers. And a whisky or two.”

I started laughing, ignoring Nate’s indignant look. Black waved at the waiter again and asked for a jug of water.

But Nate wasn’t finished. “Just think about it. Emmy, you’d get your green card faster and save time at the airport. And if Black had a ring on his finger, he wouldn’t keep getting chased by horny women with dollar signs in their eyes.”

“Nate, I know you’ve had some crazy ideas in the past, but that one’s special,” I said, patting his hand.

Even so, part of me felt oddly pleased. Nate had hated me when we first met, and now he was trying to marry me off to his best friend? This was progress.

“Ems, it’s not that crazy. How long does it take to get permanent residence after marriage? Three years?”

“Something like that,” Black said.

“And you could get divorced afterwards. If you keep your fingers crossed, marrying Emmy might even give your Aunt Miriam a heart attack.”

Should I be pleased or insulted by that?

Black took a sip of his fresh glass of wine. “Perhaps the idea does have some merit.”

“I can’t believe you’re even considering it,” I said.

“Diamond, you were the one complaining about immigration. And neither of us likes Miriam.”

Nate nudged me. “A heart attack, get it? Marriage… Valentines… Hearts… Never mind.”

I’d only met the irritating cow once, and I’d been forced to have a chat with the punchbag in the gym afterwards. When Black and Nate put it that way, the pros did seem to outweigh the cons.

“Fine. Let’s get married then.” I slammed my glass down. My third glass. My third, large glass. That was the wine talking. “How do we even do that?”

Black turned to Nate. “This was your suggestion.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll ask the concierge.”

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