The bloke who dislikes me finally lets go of Emery.
She sidles up to me, and we both say goodbye to her friends, then make our way out of the cubicle farm with her arm snugly curled around mine. Once we've exited the building onto the sidewalk, I halt us. Grasping her shoulders, I turn her so she faces me. If my expression is grim, I can't help that.
"Did you mean it?" I ask. "You called me your fiancé. Are you accepting my proposal?"
"It's more of a proposition than a proposal." She splays a hand on my chest, fingering my lapel. "But yes, I'm accepting your offer."
My lips twitch faintly. It's the best sort of smile I can offer.
"I have two conditions, though," she says.
"Name it. Whatever you want, it's yours."
"First, I need total honesty. No secrets, no lies. This is nonnegotiable, and I'll do the same for you."
I stare at the space beyond her shoulder while I weigh my options. She won't marry me unless I promise total honesty, but there are things I cannot tell her. My convenient wife doesn't need to know everything. Is not sharing every detail of my life a sort of lying? Donnae know. But I need Emery to marry me, so I have no choice.
Before I answer, I require full disclosure from her. "The other condition?"
"Sex and money are great, and of course I love the freedom you're offering." She pats my chest. "But I need to be useful."
"I don't understand."
"Being your trophy wife isn't enough for me." She rolls her shoulders back, lifting her chin. "While I search for my true calling in life, I need something to keep me busy. I need a mission, and I've picked one."
I have the sinking feeling I don't want to hear the rest. "What is it?"
"You."
Blinking slowly, I stare at her. "What?"
"Think of me as your private therapist." She smiles brightly while bouncing on her toes. "I'm going to help you remember how to enjoy life, Rory."
Mhac na galla.I groan. "You want to change me. Do you think my previous wives haven't already tried it?"
"I don't want to change you. Only you can do that. I want to help you."
"There's a difference?"
"Absolutely. I'm not dragging you kicking and screaming into the fun zone. I'm illuminating the path for you." She inches closer, tipping her head back to meet my gaze. "You've gotten a taste of what I'm like. You understand I'm no wallflower, and I won't be the trophy wife you trot out at parties and put away in a closet the rest of the time. Are you sure you want me?"
Aye, I want her—for sex. As for her mission to save me… I study Emery for a long moment. She can try to make me enjoy "fun" things. But she will fail. I grasp her upper arms. "I'm certain. And I accept your conditions."
"Good." Emery wrestles with her purse, which is slung over her shoulder, and pulls out the contract I'd given her. She holds it up. "Signed and delivered."
She signed it. The lass intends to marry me and follow my rules.
A strange sensation rushes through me, enlivening every part of my body. Is this happiness? No, I'm extremely relieved she said yes.
I drag her into me and lash my arms around her while I crush my lips to hers. She opens for me without hesitation while I invade her mouth, both of us thrusting our tongues, and she teases the roof of my mouth. She always tastes better than any food or drink, better than any other woman I've kissed, better than anything in the world.
Stepping back, I snatch the contract from her fingers. I glance at it, then fold the papers in half and tuck them into the inside pocket of my jacket. I'll sign them later.
Why am I delaying? It's ridiculous.
"Are you going to sign it?" she asks.
"Later. We marry today and leave for Scotland in the morning."