Possessive Fake Husband

“Who?”

“She’s this rich old lady that was always close with my father,” Josh explains. “She was like an aunt to me, back in the day. I think if she sees us together, she’ll be the easiest one to convince.”

“Perfect,” I say, nodding. “That’s one of twelve.”

He jabs a fork at me. “Don’t get excited. We haven’t even begun yet. You need to get settled here first.”

I roll my eyes. “Please. The faster we do this, the faster we can divorce.”

He hesitates, watching me closely. I’m not sure what that look means, but I sense that I’m not going to like what he’s about to say.

“Listen,” he says, “about that.”

“Uh oh.”

“Look, I get that you don’t want to stay married to me forever. And I feel the same way about you.”

“Ouch, but okay.”

He smirks and continues. “But the fact is, this merger won’t be fast. Convincing the board will be the quickest part. Finalizing all the details, getting the paperwork signed, getting approvals and making cuts, it’s all going to be a long, painful process.”

“Long and painful,” I repeat. “So what does that have to do with us?”

“We can’t just divorce in the middle of it. We have to stay married until it’s all over.”

I stare at him. “I’m not sure I signed up for that.”

“You did, though,” he says. “It’s not my fault you didn’t think it all the way through.”

I feel a stab of anger. “Don’t be condescending.”

“I’m not, I’m just telling you the truth. I want you to have reasonable expectations here.”

“Okay then. Set my expectations. How long do we have to be together?”

“Three years, I’m guessing,” he says. “Maybe two if we move fast.”

I sit there in shock. I let that number sink in like molasses all over my skin. “Three years,” I repeat.

“Could be less, could be more,” he says, shrugging and eating more eggs. “It depends on how fast the merger goes. If your father is easy to work with, we could get it done in two.”

“Two years at best,” I whisper.

“Sure.” He stares at me. “How long did you think this would last?”

“Weeks,” I say. “Months, tops.”

“Oh.” He sits back. “Well. I’m sorry, Maggie.”

“What happens if I walk away now?” I ask, feeling panic all over. I want to get up and run out of this house. “What happens?”

“Nothing,” he admits. “We just… divorce. My mom will think I’m an idiot. I imagine your aunt and uncle will think you’re one, too. But we’ll know the truth.”

I shake my head and stand up. I feel like I can’t breathe. I walk away from the table, trying to catch my breath. My heart’s hammering in my chest and my skin feels clammy. I’m shaking, almost shivering like I’m cold.

“Are you okay?” he asks, coming up behind me.

“I’m freaking out,” I manage to say.

He puts his arms around me and hugs me. I don’t know why, but it works. “It’ll be okay,” he says, his voice soft and gentle. “I promise. I’ll be good to you. I’ll take care of you, and when this is over, you’ll walk away a very wealthy woman. Think about it, Maggie. Three years of your life, and you’ll be financially set for the rest of it. You’ll have so much potential.”

I look up at him, eyes wide. My breathing stabilizes and I feel like I can think for a moment.

He’s right. Three years, while a lot longer than I thought, isn’t that bad. I’ll be in my twenties still, my whole life ahead of me, and with money to use however I want. I can buy a house, establish myself, or use it to start a business. I can do whatever I want.

In three years.

After I’ve pretended to be married to this total stranger.

I push away from him and take a long, deep breath, steadying myself. “Sorry,” I say. “I just… freaked out a little bit.”

“It’s okay. I should’ve been clearer up front about the timetable here. I honestly thought your dad would’ve told you how long these things can take.”

“He didn’t,” I say, frowning. I look away, unable to meet his intense and handsome gaze. I wrap my arms around myself. “Thanks for breakfast.”

He nods once. “Look, I’m going into the office in a little bit. You can do whatever you want around the house. Make yourself at home, make the place more comfortable. I don’t care what you do. I know you don’t know me, but… I want us to have a good relationship, Maggie. I want you to be happy.”

That last bit surprises me. “Thanks,” I say.

“I mean it.” He steps closer, head tilted. “I want to take care of you while you’re mine.”

While you’re mine.

“Have a good day at the office,” I say, and walk to the steps.

He smiles at me. “Have a good day at home, sweetie.”