The Wedding Pact (The O'Malleys #2)(44)

Ignoring the heat of embarrassment rising up her neck, she lifted her chin. “Do you have a better idea? I’m on a compressed timeline, which I’m sure you’re aware of. I have to start somewhere.”

“Then why don’t we start with why I’m on this list of your father’s?” He looked completely relaxed, as long as she ignored the eyes. Those eyes watched her like she was a deer and he was a wolf, just waiting for her to twitch in the wrong direction before he pounced. “I run a very prominent empire in New York. You father wisely sees the value of allies outside Boston.”

New York.

Which most likely meant she’d be required to move down there, because he certainly wasn’t going to relocate up here. Her lungs turned to lead, and she gripped the edge of her chair as she fought lightheadedness. Somehow, even in the middle of all this, she’d never once considered that she might have to leave Boston. “I see.” There were days when she wanted to burn the city to the ground around her, but it was home.

A waitress appeared next to their table, giving Carrigan a much-needed breather, and set down two glasses of water. She poured them each a glass of red wine, and then left as silently as she’d come.

This Carrigan could focus on. “High-handed of you.” Why did every rich man in the world think that drinking wine was required? At least he’d ordered red instead of white—a tiny silver lining.

“I like to go into business meetings having the upper hand.” His smile was more shark than sheepish. “Forgive me, but I did a bit of research.”

If he’d done as much research as he claimed, he’d know she preferred dirty martinis to wine any day of the week. James had figured that out all on his own. Thinking about him right now is a mistake. Focus on the man across from you. She took a cautious sip of the wine and nearly melted into her seat. It was light and a little fruity and hands down the best wine she’d ever had. “This isn’t half-bad.” Since he seemed to want to cut to the chase, she might as well play. “You’ll be expecting me to move to your home and play the little wife in between popping out half a dozen children.”

“Setting aside the small talk. Good.” This time his smile was almost real, though it still didn’t reach his eyes. “To answer your question—I’m willing to negotiate. I have no interest in a little wife, as you so eloquently put it. Especially an unwilling one.”

Pretty words, but she trusted this man as far as she could throw him. “So what is it you do want?”

“A part-time partner. I have no need of someone to help me run my various business ventures, but there are times when having a wife on my arm would make or break a deal. It also creates stability, because my people see me as settling down and providing heirs that will prevent a civil war. Stability, Carrigan, is key. So, yes, I will need children, though half a dozen seems excessive—no offense to your parents, of course.”

“Of course.” She took another sip of wine through numb lips. “You say a part-time partner. Should I take up knitting when you don’t need to dust me off, prop me up, and have me entertain guests?”

He shot her a look. “Hardly. I see no reason why you can’t spend a good portion of the time here in Boston—as long as you agree to the appropriate protection. I simply ask that you do nothing to bring negative attention. And that you stay faithful.”

It was so strange to have it all laid out there in bald terms. Part of her wanted to scream at him for making her feel so…What? If he’d given her romance, she would have called him a liar. All he’d done was tear away the thin curtain between her and reality. She’d known what these men expected of her. Dmitri was simply clearing the air. She sat back. “Do you conduct all your negotiations like this?”

“Only when the situation calls for it. You’re a smart woman, and I thought you’d appreciate it if I was frank with you.” He frowned, the first time his perfect mask had so much as cracked. “Was I wrong? Would you prefer flowers and romance and pretty words?”

“No, thank you.” She could almost feel the room solidifying around her as she found her feet again. He’d caught her off guard, but she found she actually preferred this to the lies people tended to tell when they first met each other.

James hasn’t lied to you.

Shut up.

James wasn’t her future. It didn’t matter how he made her feel or that she said things to him she never would have said to anyone else. She couldn’t hold him up in comparison to every man on her father’s list. They’d all end up wanting. Dmitri was nothing like him. He was dark where James was light, polished where James was rough, a shark to James’s junkyard dog.