Page 64 of Morally Black Betrothal
Simone looked around the office one more time, took a deep breath before speaking with a voice that shook. “Pending a counteroffer, I accept. For the next four months, I will be your fake fiancée.”
“So, that’s a yes?”
Slowly, she nodded. “I-it is.”
Suddenjoythrobbed in my chest and surprised me to my core. This time, my grin wasn’t faked for viewers. It was so real and so broad, my face hurt.
I reached into the inside pocket of my jacket. “Good. Shall we make it official?”
15
NEGOTIATIONS
Simone
The box was small and blue. It was giving me a strange sense of déjà vu despite the fact that I had never seen a ring like that in my life, much less been proposed to.
The diamond was simple and square and roughly the size of a baseball. Between that and the platinum band curling with delicate filigree engraving, it certainly wasn’t a ring for a small-town girl and part-time baker. It was a ring for a princess. Someone who would be a queen to Brendan’s future king for always, not just a few months.
The man himself glanced around at the blurred faces beyond the frosted glass, then set a foot back and started a slow descent to the ground.
“Oh my God,no!” I rushed forward before he made it more than a few inches, closed my hands around the open box, and shoved it back into his chest.
Confusion muddled Brendan’s dark eyes. Maybe even a little hurt. “Did I miss something?”
“I-I—” I almost said I couldn’t do it before I realized what was on the line. “A counteroffer! I said I had a counteroffer.”
One dark brow lifted. I wondered if he knew how adorable he was when mystified. Something told me it didn’t happen very often.
“A negotiation?” Those eyes sharpened. He almost looked happy to hear it.
Nervously, I nodded and shoved my hands into the pockets of my jacket before I gave in to the urge to chew on my fingernails. “Immaculate grooming” probably didn’t include torn cuticles.
He tucked the ring back into his jacket before rounding his desk and taking a seat. With one hand, he gestured that I should sit down in one of the sleek chrome chairs. “I’m listening.”
It wasn’t a request. More like an observation with the assumption that those around him would act to meet his needs without even needing a prompt.
I wondered if his entire life was that way. If things just came to him because he knew they would.
How nice must that be?
I swallowed and pulled my hands out of my coat to clasp them on my lap as I sat. “I want twice the amount you offered.”
That brow lifted again. I wanted to kiss it. No, that wasn’t going to work at all. I couldnotbe entertaining fantasies about Brendan Black if I was going to be his in a…professional…fashion. Boundaries were essential.
So, I turned toward the window, toward the panorama of the city that so clearly belonged to men like him, not underlings like me.
The thought—the injustice—hardened my resolve. “Yes. Twice.”
He examined me for a moment, like he thought something might reveal itself in those two simple words.
But to my surprise, he scratched something onto the contract. “Done.”
Ten. Million. Dollars.
But instead of fainting, I decided to try my luck some more. “I want all of it up front, too.”
“That’s hardly fair.” This time, his expression was decidedly droll. It made me want to kiss him even more. “With ten million up front, what’s keeping you from leaving? There would be no reason for you to stay.”
