The Terms

ANNA

An hour later, we were sitting on his ginormous bed with the fifty pages of the document spread out around us. Margaret, his housekeeper, had brought up a fruit tray and coffee for us, as well as a new set of clothes for me.

It was a weird dynamic, but somehow, I felt at ease sitting cross-legged next to the sprawled-out Gavin in his massive king-sized bed.

He was dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt, with his hair slightly rumpled as though he had run his fingers through it countless times throughout the night.

I’d hardly seen him in anything other than business attire, but casual Gavin? I couldn’t keep from staring.

Even the gentle brush of his fingers against mine seemed to set me on fire.

“I’m not backing down on the timeline,” he said.

“How will it look if one week I’m working for you and the next we’re married?” I argued. “Three months, bare minimum.”

“One month, maximum.” He kept his face expressionless, but I could tell he enjoyed the back-and-forth.

“Fine.” I threw up my hands. “But I want a real wedding. Not to elope.”

“Done.” He nodded.

I giggled, then sobered. “There’s one last thing.”

“Sounds serious, Ms. Miller.” He arched an eyebrow in my direction.

I bit my lip nervously and watched as his eyes seemed to darken. “I want the same stipulations for ending our relationship that you have.”

“What do you mean?” He frowned.

“If you’re caught out with another woman—publicly, I mean. I want the option to divorce while keeping half your assets.”

He looked taken aback. “I’m not going to cheat.”

“I mean, it would hardly be cheating,” I reasoned. “I don’t doubt that you’ll be with other women—”

“What do you mean ‘be with other women’?” he snapped. “You would be fine with your husband having an affair?”

“Gavin,” I sighed. “It’s a marriage on paper. Besides, I’m sure you’ll have…needs.”

He laughed darkly. “Whatever ‘needs’ I have will be met with my wife.”

I blanched. “You expect me to have sex with you?”

He gave me the most baffled look. “I told you I wanted a family and kids. How exactly did you think that would happen?”

I stared at him blankly. “To be honest, I didn’t really think that hard about it.”

~Lie~, I admitted silently. It’s one of the things I’d thought about obsessively since he slid his offer across the table. Never in my life did it cross my mind that he would choose monogamy with me when he could have any woman he desired.

“You’re smarter than that,” he said pointedly. “I didn’t think it was appropriate to put the stipulations on our sex life in the contract.”

It was my turn to laugh. “Really? You detailed the terms of your loveless marriage with your assistant, but sex is where you draw the line?”

“Honestly, I didn’t want to have to go over it with my attorney.”

“What if we aren’t…compatible?” I fiddled nervously with a thread on the duvet.

He waved me off with obvious confidence. “I know how to please a woman.”

I almost choked. ~I bet you do.~

“That doesn’t mean we have the same…preferences.”

“Okay, Ms. Miller.” He smirked. “Should we have a little practice session? Go over your kinks?”

My cheeks heated, and I shook my head.

“No,” my voice came out slightly squeaky. “I was more worried about yours.”

He laughed and rolled onto his back. The muscles in his bicep flexed as he tucked a hand behind his head.

“What?” I giggled. “Aren’t all you super-rich guys into weird stuff?”

“Guess you’ll find out.” He wagged his eyebrows, and I threw a pillow at him. He caught it and smiled before shaking his head. “You know, I can’t imagine offering this deal to any other woman and her not jumping at it.”

“Maybe you should’ve chosen someone else,” I murmured and picked at one of my nails.

“I meant it as a compliment. The fact that the money alone isn’t enough is why I want you to be my wife. You’re…a breath of fresh air.”

I grabbed the contract once again and stared at it.

“Honestly, Gavin, I worry that you think I’m some submissive little girl who will smile and nod along. I did whatever you wanted in a professional sense because you were my boss. As your wife, I’m not going to just do whatever you say.”

“I’m gathering that,” he deadpanned.

“Gavin, I’m serious. In our home, I want an equal say.”

He gave me a funny look.

“I like that,” he said.

“What?”

“‘Our home.’ That’s exactly what I want with you: a home.” A shadow of a smile fell across his lips, and I couldn’t help but melt a little.

It all sounded so good. Why not marry the billionaire with the guarantee of luxury? At the very least, I would come out of the marriage far ahead of where I started.

Plus, I knew him. Really well, in fact. We’d worked closely together for a long time. I knew he was kind but firm, and that he was slow to anger.

However, I also knew him to be calculating, and that once he set his mind to accomplishing something, he was usually successful.

I felt a gentle touch on my knee and looked down at the man lying next to me. The entire time I’d worked for him, I appreciated his good looks. Everyone did.

He was the sort of attractive that could be overwhelming. But here in his bed, tucked away from the world, every piece of him drew me in.

I longed to run my finger through his hair and trace the muscles down his torso. I wondered what it would taste like to kiss his lips, or how it would feel to hold his hand on a walk through the park.

“Did you hear me?” he asked.

“Huh?” I shook my head to pull myself back to the present. “I’m sorry, I missed what you said.”

He smiled a little, crooked smile. “I was asking if you wanted to get out of bed today. It’s already late morning.”

“Oh.” I nodded. “Of course. I’m sure you have to get to the office.”

“I took the day.”

My brow furrowed. “You never take a random day off.”

He seemed to weigh his response. “Technically, it’s not a random day. The attack at the bar is all over the news. Nobody really batted an eye when I said I wouldn’t be coming in.”

“Oh, shit,” I groaned. “Where’s my phone?”

Wordlessly, he pulled it out of the bedside drawer. The screen was cracked, which I assumed happened the night before, but it lit up when I touched it.

Sure enough, there were hundreds of phone calls and texts from friends checking in.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I whined. “I should’ve posted that I’m okay or something.”

“We put out a news release saying you’re fine,” Gavin said. “But obviously, everyone wants to hear it from you.”

“Who’s we?” I asked as I started typing.

“My team,” he explained. “They usually handle things like this—although it’s rarely necessary.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not a celebrity,” he explained. “People mostly don’t care what I’m doing.”

“You were in a lot of magazine articles and stuff with—”

“With Chelsea.” He nodded. “She’s somewhat famous, and apparently, her dating a billionaire made for interesting news.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep myself from asking more about his beautiful ex-girlfriend. I hardly had the right.

She was real. I was the imposter.

It was still hard to wrap my mind around the fact that he was asking me for a sham marriage rather than proposing to her. It was obviously something she wanted.

“She doesn’t want kids,” he blurted out suddenly.

“What?” I asked.

“Chelsea doesn’t want to be a mom,” he said, and I could hear his regret. “That’s why we broke up.”

“Oh.” I nodded, feeling somewhat uncomfortable. “Do you, um, want to talk about it?”

I certainly had a few questions.

“No,” he said in a way that left no room for discussion, and he moved to stand. “Come on. I think I owe you a tour.”

The penthouse was just as gigantic as I first imagined. Gavin’s bedroom was the only one upstairs. The bathroom attached to it rivaled the size of my entire apartment, not to mention the massive his-and-hers closets.

Downstairs, he had his office, a guest room, a gym, the great room, the kitchen, and a sitting room that looked as though no one had ever been inside of it.

All the finishes were top-of-the-line, and the views were enough to take your breath away. It was hard to picture myself actually living here, but that was what he expected—as soon as possible.

“I can’t just move in with you,” I protested. “We barely know each other outside of work.”

“So?” He shrugged. “It’ll give us the opportunity to spend time together.”

“We’ll see each other at the office, and we can hang out afterward,” I pointed out.

“You can’t work for me anymore, Annalise,” he cocked his head. “I can’t date, let alone marry, one of my employees.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re the boss. You make the rules.”

“Technically, I answer to the board,” he shoved his hands in his pockets.

I flopped down on his unbelievably comfortable yet stylish sofa.

“You’re firing me.”

He smirked. “Think of it as a promotion.”

I spun a piece of hair around my finger. “I’ve never lived with a man.”

“It could be fun,” he said and sank into the cushion next to me.

I turned my head to look at him, and he winked. Damn, if that didn’t send my heart pumping.

“It could be a disaster,” I said quietly. “You don’t seem to be taking this seriously. Even if we get a divorce, this is a life-changing decision.”

His expression turned grave, and he stared out at the skyline through the window in front of us.

“I’ll be honest, Annalise,” he said in a low voice. “Once we’re married, I don’t plan on losing you.”