Ethan shook his head.
“Ten. That’s my final offer. If you need this that badly, ten million is a tiny fraction of what you stand to make. It’s a bargain and you know it. That and you need to tell me every last detail of what’s going on.”
Ethan held out his hand. “I’ll take that as a yes. You have a deal.”
Amy felt a chill run through her body. Ten million dollars. All she had to do was go through with this, and she’d make more in a summer than she would in her entire career. “You’re kidding, right? You’re not actually considering paying me that kind of money to pretend to be your wife. What’s the catch?”
“The catch is that you won’t be pretending.”
“How is that not illegal?”
“Again, it’s called a prenup,” Ethan replied. “It would entitle you to a certain amount of my net worth in the event of a divorce. As soon as the ink dries on the corporate deal, we can get a quickie divorce. I’ll go my way. You go yours.”
“You’re just going to let me walk away with ten million dollars?”
“Yeah. That’s the plan.”
“I have money of my own. I have a career and employees who rely on me.”
“They’ll be there waiting for you. And you can give each of them a hell of a bonus.”
“I need time to think about this, Ethan. You don’t just drop something like this out of thin air. I need some time. Look, I have to go.”
“There’s something I want to give you before you leave,” Ethan said. He reached down into his briefcase, and wrapped his hand around the ring box and began to pull it out.
“I really can’t handle another surprise,” Amy said.
Ethan stopped and dropped the box back down to the bottom of the briefcase. “Of course,” he replied. “I just want you to have a copy of the prenup as you think things through.” He grabbed the thick manila envelope out of the briefcase and pulled it out. “Here you go.”
Amy grabbed the envelope. “What happens if I actually say yes?”
Ethan grinned. It had cost him significantly more than he had anticipated, but he had just gotten exactly what he wanted. “Like I asked you before, have you ever been to Wyoming?”
***
Chapter 3
Even though she had gotten back from the meeting relatively quickly, Amy couldn’t bring herself to go inside her house. Callie and Violet would be there, and she couldn’t see them like this. She was too worked up. She walked around the block and then came back to her front door, but she couldn’t go in. She didn’t want to ruin Violet’s night. She pulled out her phone and texted Callie: running late. Start without me. A moment after she sent the text, she got a reply: already did. Tell your secret boyfriend we say hi.
Amy looked at the front of her house. She had to admit to herself that the house was impressive. It had been a stretch for her to afford it, and she had needed to pull strings with a few bankers to arrange the mortgage, but it was an absolute asset when it came to wooing clients and participating in the inner circles of the city's high society.
Amy sat on the stoop and looked back up at the façade for her house. The elaborate molding she had had expertly restored by a team of craftsmen. The paint she had finally settled on after over a dozen attempts. The antique, single pane windows that gave the house a certain charm but added to the already astronomical heating bills. Inside, she had spared no expense. Everything had to be perfect. From the kitchen, which was filled with Carrera marble, stainless steel appliances and imported fixtures to the living room with its hand carved table and supple leather couches made from the artisanal leather of god-knows-where, it was all perfect. The house was perfect. It was absolutely everything she had set out for it to be, and yet it brought her none of the satisfaction that she had hoped for.
But it served its purpose. Whenever she hosted parties or dinners, her colleagues and clients raved about her tastefully appointed decor. It let her clients know that she was one of them, one of the elite. This also, somehow, led them to believe that she, Amy Hayes, was a woman they could trust with their secrets. This house, she all but told them, was built on secrets hidden and reputations protected. If she wasn't the best at what she did, how could she afford such splendor?
The answer, of course, was that she could afford it only working herself and her employees to the bone. The higher her star rose, the more powerful and demanding her clients became, which meant she had to spent more and more time curating her image. She was always keeping up appearances. Always showing up in the right place at the right time. The charity galas, the opera and ballet. Amy sat on the board of directors of four different charities in the district, and all of them required an enormous amount of time and money.