Billionaire Romance Boxed Set 2(7)

Whoa, Maddy. Step back a minute.

My brain was already churning as if I had the money in my bank account. But if I decided to do this - and that was a huge if - it would still be a long time before I saw a dime. And in the meantime, living with Mr. Thorne, I’d probably get used to a higher standard of living. Even for someone like me, who’d never been pampered in my life, it would be difficult to go back to normal. I would be best if I could consult with some neutral third party about all of this - a professional. Someone who could give me some really solid advice. But I was pretty sure I’d have to pay handsomely for that, and I didn’t exactly have Daniel Thorne money.

Yet.

*

Sitting up in bed that night, with no hope of sleeping, I finally got a pen and paper and began to write down a list of questions and concerns. Part of me couldn’t believe that I was taking his offer seriously, but how could I not?

I dragged myself out of bed the next morning after a few hours of fitful sleep. When I got to work, I made a beeline for Mr. Thorne’s office.

I stopped at his assistant’s desk. She looked at me with barely restrained contempt.

“I need to see Mr. Thorne,” I said. “About the special project. He told me to stop by anytime.”

Her lips thinned as she pressed the button on the intercom.

“Mr. Thorne. Ms. Wainright is here to see you.”

“Thank you, please send her in.”

I walked in slowly, shutting the padded door behind me. I was sure he’d look up when I came to a stop in front of his desk, but his head stayed down as she shuffled through a pile of paperwork.

I cleared my throat.

“Ms. Wainright,” he said, blinking. “Good morning. You’re very…early.”

I frowned a little. “I get here at this time every day.”

“Of course,” he said, beginning to collect himself into the smooth professional that I somewhat recognized. “Please. Take a seat.”

I sat down in the chair across from his desk, clutching my notepad to my chest. “I just have a few questions about the proposed arrangement,” I said. “I can come back later if this is a bad time.”

“No, no, not at all,” he said. “Please. Go on.”

I stared at my paper. The questions all sounded stupid now that I was in front of him, under his piercing green stare. But somewhere in the rational portion of my mind, I knew that they were still important. I swallowed hard and then began to speak.

“There’s only one copy of the contract, right? Who will keep it?”

Mr. Thorne answered quickly. “Excellent question. My attorney, Mr. Wegman, is responsible for keeping the document private and secure. I realize this may sound like a conflict of interest, since I’m paying him, but I assure you that he will be representing us both equally in this arrangement. I made certain to add the terms of his payment into the contract as well, so he is highly motivated to keep it safe.”

“During the term of our marriage, while I’m…living with you.” I hesitated. “I understand that I’m supposed to act like your wife. Will there be any other restrictions or expectations on my behavior that I should be aware of?”

“None whatsoever,” said Mr. Thorne. “So long as you appear to be in love with me, and faithful, I see no reason why you shouldn’t be able to live the rest of your life as you choose.” He hesitated.

God, this was so weird. My mouth was incredibly dry. “You said you’ll be supporting me. Will I have a daily allowance, or…?”

“My credit card,” he said, easily. “There is no limit. You’ll be added as a joint member on the account and have your own card. You may use it to pay for anything you like. You see, Ms. Wainright, this whole arrangement requires a mutual trust. But in the time you’ve been employed here, I’ve seen no reason to believe that you are dishonest or that you take undue advantage of situations. That’s one of the other reasons I chose you.”

I looked up from my paper. “I thought you chose me because I don’t believe in marriage.”

He laced his fingers together thoughtfully. “That was the deciding factor,” he said. “But I had already evaluated your character.”

He was talking about me like I was a set of characteristics rather than a person. Then again, I supposed that came with the territory. Being a successful businessman meant coldly evaluating situations, completely devoid of any emotional impulses. It meant reading people like they were a string of zeroes and ones who happened to have an organic brain rather than one made of chips and diodes.

It must be liberating, to not have to worry about other people’s feelings.