“The sell-by date.”
“That is crass.”
“The time line then.”
“Most negative repercussions outlined in the prenup are nullified at the ten-year mark.”
“Ten years?”
“Is practically a lifetime.”
“Not even close.” But married to someone incapable of love? She very much feared he would be right.
“So, let me get this straight. You want sex with me?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re willing to blackmail me into marrying you?”
He offered her a piece of flatbread. “Yes.”
“No complaint about the terminology.” She accepted the bread, a sense of unreality surrounding her.
He shrugged. “Much of business is done in the same way. Terms don’t change realities.”
“I offered you a night of sex.” And he’d turned her down.
“I want more than a night.”
Right. “You want ten years.”
“Maybe more.”
“And maybe less.”
“You may be ready to walk away before I am.” He didn’t sound concerned about that, but he also didn’t sound like they were just words to placate.
Idiot. Really. Mr. Brilliant Businessman-Corporate Tsar had no clue.
“But fidelity until divorce?” she asked, that sense of unreality nearly drowning her.
“Nonnegotiable.”
“What about children?”
“Children?” he asked, like he’d never heard the word before.
“You know, the little people that call you dad.”
“Papa. Russian children call their fathers papa.”
It was such a curious mix, the bits of his heritage he refused to let go and the elements to his character and life that were purely American.
“Well, do you want any babies that will grow up to call you papa?”
He went completely still, a bite partway to his mouth. She wasn’t even sure he was still breathing. His expression was indescribable, but something about what she’d said had struck a chord deep inside him.
“My mother would like a grandchild.” The words did not match the awed tone in his voice.
He resumed eating, but she wasn’t fooled. He was no more nonchalant about this conversation than she was, if for very different reasons. Or maybe just fewer reasons. The idea of having his children unraveled something inside her.
“What about you? Would you like a child?” she pressed.
A new emotion flickered in Maxwell’s gray eyes. Yearning. “Yes. I would like a child.”
“Would having a child change the sell-by date on the marriage?” She wanted to know.
“People with children divorce all the time.”
That was not what she’d wanted to hear, true as it might be. “Would you want to see your child only a couple of weekends a month?”
“We would share custody.” But he didn’t sound any more enthusiastic about that prospect than she felt.
Romi narrowed her eyes and challenged, “Would we?”
“Perhaps we should consider remaining married until our child goes to college.”
“What if we have more than one?”
“Would you want to?” The awe was there again.
And it touched her when she wanted very much to keep her wits about her. “I’d always hoped to have more than one child.” Hardly a secret, it wasn’t hard to admit. “I would have loved to have a sibling that actually lived with me.”
“As opposed to your sister-by-choice.”
“You don’t know how many times I wished Maddie had been my sister by birth. We agreed a long time ago we wanted more than one child because we wanted something different for our own families.”
“How many children do you want?” he asked cautiously.
“At least two, maybe more.” She shared Maddie’s dream of possibly adopting at some point.
Max didn’t look upset by her answer. Far from it, he appeared intrigued. “Russians put a premium on family.”
“And yours was truncated.”
“Exactly.”
“So, you are saying you want more than one child.” From the man who still considered commitment a dirty word, despite his claim he wanted to marry her.
For him, a wedding really was just a piece of paper—a contract that could be adhered to, or broken with consequences.
Even so…
“This conversation is beyond surreal,” she said helplessly.
Surely he could see that.
“I do not agree. It is the conversation we should have had a year ago, I think.” He laid his silverware on his plate, clearly done with his salad.
“Are you kidding me? After a few dates?” Put that way, it didn’t make a whole lot more sense now.
“I knew I wanted you. You made your terms clear.”