“Am I going to need this?” she asked uneasily.
“Possibly.” He shrugged, setting the tablet aside. “Probably.”
Her face paled. “Have I done something wrong?”
He allowed a brief smile to touch his face, despite the seriousness of the situation. “I don’t usually offer wine to someone I’m about to fire.”
“I’ll make a note of it,” she murmured. “Or I would if you hadn’t taken my tablet.”
“You won’t need it for this.”
She took a tiny sip of wine, probably to fortify herself. “And this is…?”
“I have a proposition to offer.”
She stilled, an odd expression crossing her face, almost as though she were bracing herself. “A business proposition?”
“In a sense.” He poured himself a drink, as well, then gestured her toward the sitting area of his office. He could only hope that this discussion wouldn’t end the same way it had with Ella. “Let’s discuss it.”
Angie gripped the wineglass so tightly it was a wonder it didn’t shatter. She knew what was coming and could only pray her expression didn’t give her away. Guilt threatened to overwhelm her. Ever since she and Jett had concocted their plan and “accidentally” slipped her profile into Pretorius’s ongoing search parameters—with a few vital adjustments—she’d second- and third- and fourth-guessed herself.
Lucius needed a wife. A real wife. One who knew all about babies and running a home and entertaining clients. She didn’t qualify at all for the first two of those, and barely scraped by on the third. Angie closed her eyes. But there was one thing the computer couldn’t program, that Lucius hadn’t thought to add to his precious parameters.
It couldn’t program love. Whomever the Pretorius Program chose as Lucius’s perfect mate, she wouldn’t love him. Nor would she love Mikey, even if she excelled in all those other areas. How could she love a man and a baby she’d never met before? Oh, knowing Lucius, he’d find a capable woman. Tears pricked her eyes. As capable as his PA. But he wouldn’t find what he didn’t even realize he needed.
Love.
Aware that a tense silence had fallen, Angie opened her eyes to find Lucius staring at her through narrowed black eyes. “I told you I wasn’t planning on firing you.”
“But…” she prompted softly.
“But I’d like to offer you a different position.”
“Within Diablo, Inc.?”
“Not exactly.”
She refused to act coy. Not about this. “Is this a position along the lines of what you were offering to Ella?”
She’d caught him by surprise and he took a moment before inclining his head. “You’re a smart woman, Angie. One of the many qualities I’ve always admired about you.”
Maybe too smart for her own good. “Tell me what you’re offering. And tell me why I’d want to give up the job I currently have—and love—for one that won’t advance my career.”
“First, the position I’m offering is…” To her surprise a hint of color carved a path across his impressive cheekbones. If circumstances had been different she’d have been amused by it. “Well, I suppose you could call it ‘temporary fiancée.’”
“A fiancée,” she repeated, tensing. Not what she’d expected. Not at all what she’d expected. “A temporary fiancée.” What happened to his wanting a wife?
He hesitated. “With so much at stake, I thought it reasonable to employ caution. A trial run makes certain both parties are satisfied with the arrangement. If you’ll recall, there was a trial period when I hired you as my PA. It’s even more crucial to have one for this position.” He blew out a sigh. “God, that sounds so cold and calculated. Sterile.”
“Is that what you want?” she dared asked. “Cold, calculated and sterile?”
His eyes fired. “No, of course not. But what I want to get out of this arrangement isn’t what’s important. This is about Mikey.”
“Believe it or not, I understand that. I’m not a fool, Lucius. I didn’t think you were proposing a real engagement.” She fought to remain calm, to ignore that flame building in his gaze. To ignore the nerves clawing at her composure. “What happens if we’re both satisfied with the probationary period of our engagement? What then?”
“Then we marry.”