She draws her head back as her arms tumble off the table onto her lap. "You're paying me half a million bucks to be your wife for a year."
"Precisely. I have more conditions, however." I reach for the papers but then grab my pen instead, twirling it between my fingers. "You will live with me, and we will have sexual relations on a regular basis."
Slack-jawed, she stares at me.
I raise a placating hand. "Of course, you're free to say no if I want sex and you don't. But I will require it at least twice a week. Sex with strangers has been less than fulfilling, and even the risks involved couldn't provide enough stimulation for me. A monogamous arrangement seems the most prudent alternative."
There. That sounded reasonable and even appropriate.
Emery grips her chair's arms. "We were strangers the other night, which means you're saying sex with me was less than fulfilling."
"That's not—I meant the others, not you."
"Mm-hm." She glances at the windows, then at me. "This is sounding an awful lot like I'll be your live-in prostitute."
"Donnae be ridiculous." I clench my jaw. "You will be my wife, with all the benefits of such a relationship."
"Like what?"
"Free access to my financial accounts and the freedom to do whatever you wish." I rise, gather my papers, and stalk down the table's length to where she slumps in her chair. Poised on the table's corner, one leg bent, I set the papers facedown on my thigh. I decide she might need more of an inducement, so I speak in a rougher tone, the sort she seemed to like on the night we met. "You told me you've spent years working hard to pay off your student loans, and that you had little opportunity for the fun you value so highly. It sounds to me as if you've been stifled by responsibility. For a woman like you, that must've been torture."
She watches me without any discernible expression. "Not torture. I got sick and tired of working forty hours a week—often fifty, sixty, or more—to make my employer rich while I lived in a teeny apartment and never took a single vacation day."
I nod because I understand being shackled to a job, though I've done that by choice. She hasn't.
"What I offer," I say, slanting toward her, "is liberation from those responsibilities. With my wealth, you can do anything you want. Consider it an extended holiday, or start your own programming firm if that's what you like."
"Oh no, I've had it with that stuff."
"Discover what you do want. Even after we separate, you'll have a significant amount of money and no need to rush to find employment." I settle a hand on the back of her chair, our faces inches apart and her golden gaze glued to mine. "I'm offering to fund your search, so you can take all the time you need to find your passion."
Though she continues to gaze at me without expression, I see her pupils have dilated and her breaths are coming faster. I'm seducing her into a marriage of convenience. Maybe I feel the slight tug of guilt, but it's not as if I'm kidnapping her. She has a choice.
I drag a fingertip down her jaw to the corner of her mouth. "Who else can offer you this sort of freedom?"
"How do I know you'll stick to the bargain?" she asks. "What's to stop you from using me and throwing me away when you get tired of my silliness?"
"This." I proffer the papers to her. "A contract."
"A—huh?" She blinks rapidly, her focus flitting between the papers and my face several times before she settles on staring into my eyes. "I don't understand."
"These papers include two documents—a prenuptial agreement, and a marriage contract. Combined, they detail our arrangement." I set the papers on her lap. "Read them. Carefully."
"Should I have a lawyer look at this?"
"For the prenuptial agreement, yes. As for the marriage contract, a lawyer would tell you it's unlikely to be enforceable."
"How is the contract different from the prenup?"
"You'll see when you read it."
She looks down at the papers on her lap. "If the contract's not enforceable, what's the point?"
"The contract is a promise between us." I snap my spine straight, though my erse remains lodged on the table's edge. "Essentially, these documents obligate you to remain my wife for one year and to perform your marital duties at least twice each week. You will have access to my financial accounts, as I've said, but you are free to open your own accounts should you wish to do so. You further agree to attend social functions and to maintain the pretense we are in love."
A frantic laugh spurts out of her, accompanied by a light spray of spittle that barely misses me. "Are you serious? I have to pretend we're madly in love. You better hire an actress because I don't think I can be that convincing."
"I believe you can." I slant my body forward and cup her cheek with one hand, while with the other I palm her breast through her clothing.