Page 28 of Control: XXX Vadim 1
I try to salvage my pride with a toss of my hair and a bored sigh. “It’s not like I could take them on the plane with me, anyway.”Lies.I’d already run through the logistics hell of how to perfectly smuggle all four dresses, a purse, a pair of shoes, a fur stole, and two brooches into one of the customary wrapping boxes small enough to fit under my plane seat. Rather than admit defeat, I find ammunition to lob over the figurative net right back at him. “Most men would see the sex as more than enough payment.”
He doesn’t even flinch. “Yes. What was the rate I offered you? A grand for four hours.” He extends one of his hands before him and eyes each finger. Reaching some internal conclusion, he looks up, jabbing his gaze right into mine. “It would take years for you to pay off such an investment.”
Losing was never my forte. I suck at it, actually. Desperate to change the subject, I jab my finger at his stack of papers. “Ask me your stupid interview questions, then. I’m sure a man who can waste money on a fake wife can spare a few grand on some clothes.” A fewhundredgrand, to be exact.
For whatever reason, he doesn’t go in for the kill. Not yet, and my spine tingles with the painful reality that he has me by the balls this time.
“Do you have any relevant experience?” he wonders. Again, he utilizes that rich, unreadable tone that makes it hard to tell when he’s serious or not.Not,I decide.
“I have seven years of it,” I say, folding my hands onto the table. “All spent within an unhappy, loveless marriage. One could say I am an expert in the faking marital bliss arena.”
He shuffles his documents, his expression unreadable. “What is the extent of your education?”
High school—the fancy boarding school variety, but with grades not worth bragging about. I find myself composing a different answer. “I taught Sunday school for five years. I’d make the good, wholesome breed of wife.”
He raises an eyebrow, but I meet his skepticism shamelessly. I’m not lying. I’m not ashamed either. Teaching—even in the rather limited aspects of biblical commandments—is one of the few moments in my life with Jim I don’t regret.
“Have you ever considered children?”
I wince. “Next question.”
Something falls across his expression, hardening it. “No.” He sets his pages aside and braces his hands over the table. “I’m afraid that question is non-negotiable.”
I squirm. “And if I don’t?”
He shrugs. But I can tell what will happen just from his rigid demeanor. He’ll lose interest. Close up. Erect that stupid wall. Maybe I’m just too bored to let him retreat so soon?
“Iwantedkids,” I croak, hating how hoarse my voice sounds. “Once. My body had other plans. Besides, I’m fine with being single, and children mean no more frivolous expenses anyway. It’s best for everyone.”
“Money is no expense where I am concerned.” In some ways, it resonates more like an insult than a simple statement. How dare I even question? His hypothetical wife would have the best of both worlds, of course. A billion icy, brooding children and the wardrobe fit for a queen.
I hate her already.
“What is it you even do anyway?” I demand, scouring him with a more critical focus. Barely in his thirties, he couldn’t have climbed too far up the corporate ladder. An heir of some kind? No. I grew up around boys with silver spoons stuck up their asses—though mine was shoved firmly in my mouth, so who am I to judge—but he doesn’t fit the template. He’s too cold in his dealings—a creature with nothing to prove to anyone. “A stockbroker?” I say, taking a guess out loud. “Venture capitalist?”
“To make it simple, let’s say that I dabble in pharmaceuticals,” he suggests. “A few strategic patents have made me a very,verywealthy man.”
“Like?” I prod, curious enough to risk irritating him.
But he shrugs, unperturbed. “Are you familiar with Eingel Industries?”
I’m not. Still, it sounds prestigious enough to assuage my skepticism. “Smart as well as loaded—” I nod in approval. “I’m sure your future trophy wife will be very pleased.”
“You have yet to ask me directly what it is I seek from my…wife.”
Haven’t I? I decide to cut the bullshit and take him up on the dare. “Why, oh, why would you want a wife, Vadim? Something tells me, it isn’t to fuck.”
“I seek a particular arrangement,” he says cryptically. “To achieve that, I need to go through government officials, and in that capacity, I must present a certain…image to make the right impression.”
“How did I know you wouldn’t tell me outright,” I mutter. “What do you want so badly that being a mere bachelor wouldn’t get you?”
He shuffles his papers and elegantly tucks them within a leather briefcase he had placed by his feet. “I would tell you,” he says without looking up, “had you actually passed your interview. I’m sorry to say that you failed.”
Heat sears my cheeks.Score: two Vadim, nil Tiffy.Time to cut my losses and scurry away to lick my wounds.
“I’m leaving.” I stand and turn my back to him, robbing him of the chance to inspect my reaction in full. “Enjoy your wife hunt. May you both find eternal bliss. I plan to find somethinginternal.” I start for the doorway, forcing my chin high into the air. “Maybe I’ll run into Sam in the lobby? I have time to kill before my flight, after all.”
“His name was Joshua. And you can wave to him on your way upstairs,” Vadim replies. “Because you won’t have time to engage him in conversation.”
