Page 183 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 5-8

It would solve so many of her problems. It would be the answer to Suzanne’s ongoing care issues—for years. All she had to do was pretend to be his wife—his real wife—but only temporarily. A pretend wife to a man who had abandoned her to her grief and despair.

Temporarily.

She had no doubt that he’d be done with her as soon as he had no more need of her. That was the rock she clung to.

Numbly she nodded.

‘Good,’ he said. ‘And do you have some decent clothes to bring?’

‘Decent?’ She had her working wardrobe. It wasn’t haute couture, but it served its purpose. She looked down at herself. ‘What’s wrong with this?’

He sighed and barked some further instructions into his phone. ‘Right. We’ll fix that. Is there anything else you need to take care of before we go? Do you have a cat or dog that needs looking after?’

Oh, heavens, how could she go anywhere? Not a cat nor a dog, but a sister.Suzanne.

‘How long will I be gone?’

‘A matter of weeks. Two months tops.’

‘Then yes, I have…um…something to organise.’

‘All right. I’ll have a car pick you up downstairs. Get your personal effects—don’t worry about your clothes, someone else will take care of that—organise what you must and meet me back here.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Will one hour be enough?’

To get to her flat in Chelsea and then to Suzanne’s house, see her settled and ensure there was nothing she’d overlooked.

‘More like three.’

He grimaced. ‘All right. Get on with it.’

He took a call, turned to the window and only when he turned back, saw her still there. ‘What?’

She licked her lips. ‘We haven’t talked about terms.’

‘You’ll have your money. You needn’t worry about that.’

‘I need an advance. To make the arrangements I need to get in place before I can leave.’

‘How much does it cost to put a pet or two in kennels?’

She lifted her chin. She wasn’t going to sound like she was begging. He was the one asking for favours. Without her usual pay packet, she still needed the means to pay for a carer for Suzanne for however long she was away. And maybe—just maybe—there was a chance she could persuade Valerie to change her plans and stay on if she offered her a decent inducement.

‘One million dollars should tide me over. For now.’

‘Tide you over…?’

He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, and Mari knew she had him and that she was now the one calling the shots. ‘All right. I’ll need your bank details in that case. Is that it?’

‘Not quite. Because there’s something else we haven’t discussed.’

This time his sigh was less resigned, more aggravated. ‘There’s nothing complicated about this, Marianne. It’s a simple contract. You pretend to be my ever-loving, happy wife for however long you’re needed, and I pay you ten million dollars. That’s not a bad deal from where I’m standing.’

She shook her head. ‘Not bad, perhaps. But not complete. You see, I’ll marry you, Dom. I’ll take part in this farce and play the loving wife in public, but I won’t sleep with you. There will be no sex. This marriage will never be consummated.’

He took a few moments to consider that. A few moments where she wondered if he wanted to call off the deal. And then he rose from behind his desk and came closer. Much closer. Until he was standing right in front of her again. Until she could feel the heat emanating from his body, his signature scent filling her every breath, the drumbeat of the heart in his broad chest like a siren’s call to her.

‘And yet,’ he said, raising one hand to a loose tendril of her hair, winding it around his finger, ‘if I remember correctly, we were so good together.’

She swallowed, the sensation of him touching her hair, the gentle pressure from the curling motion, threatened to undo her. Threatened to make her forget what she’d demanded.Almost.

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