Page 12 of The Black Wife Blessing

I glance at my watch. 1:55 PM. My stomach does a little flip, which I promptly ignore. This is probably just business. Although a tiny part of me hopes it might be something else...

The bell above the cafe door chimes. Henry strides in, his normally perfect hair slightly disheveled like he's been running his fingers through it. His suit jacket is unbuttoned, tie loose - so unlike his usual polished appearance. Then again, I've only seen the guy once.

"Monica." He slides into the chair across from me. Dark circles ring his eyes, making the blue of his irises even more striking against his tired face. "Thanks for meeting me."

"Of course. Everything okay?" I study him carefully, noticing how his composure seems to be slipping today.

He leans forward, elbows on the table, voice dropping to a near whisper. "Remember how my mother caught us in the break room at Leo's party?"

"You mean when you panicked and told her we were engaged?" I can't help but smirk, though my stomach does a little flip at the memory. "Hard to forget that stellar moment."

"Yeah, about that." He scrubs a hand down his face, fingers lingering at his jaw. "She may have... told everyone. And I mean everyone. The entire New York social circle knows. It's in Page Six."

My coffee cup freezes halfway to my mouth. The liquid sloshes dangerously close to the rim. "What?" The single word comes out as a strangled whisper.

"I know, I know. I fucked up." He pulls out his phone, scrolling through something. "Look."

The headline screams: 'Blackwood Heir to Wed Rising Culinary Star.'

"Jesus." My hands start to shake. "Henry..."

"I have a proposition." He reaches across the table, his fingers brushing mine. "I know this is insane, but... what if we went through with it?"

"Through with what?"

"The engagement. The marriage. All of it." His blue eyes lock onto mine, intense and pleading. "Just temporarily. I'll make it worth your while financially. But if we don't do this, my reputation in the business world is shot. My mother's already calling all her society friends, planning our engagement party..."

The cafe suddenly feels too small, too hot. "You want me to... pretend to marry you?"

"Yes. God, I know how crazy this sounds." He runs both hands through his hair, making it stand up even more. "But I'm desperate here. Please, Monica. I'll give you whatever you want."

I stare at him, my mouth opening and closing like a fish. Of all the things I expected him to say today, this wasn't even in the realm of possibility.

"Please, please listen to me." Henry leans forward, his expression earnest. "My mother's connections run deep in Manhattan's restaurant scene. She sits on multiple charity boards, knows every food critic worth knowing. That kind of influence could transform your business overnight."

I trace the rim of my coffee cup, considering his words. The possibilities make my heart race - having that kind of backingcould save me years of struggling to establish myself. "And what exactly would this arrangement involve?"

"We'd need to keep up appearances for about a year. Attend events together, act like a couple in public." He fidgets with his cufflinks. "I'd set you up with a penthouse in my building, cover all expenses. Plus, I'd invest directly in your business - help you expand, hire staff, whatever you need."

The practical side of my brain catalogs the advantages while my emotional side grapples with the implications. After Benjamin... I swore I'd never let myself be financially dependent on anyone again.

"And after the year?"

"We have an amicable split, cite growing apart or different life goals. By then, your business will be established enough to stand on its own."

I study his face - the earnestness in those blue eyes, the slight tension in his jaw. Despite only knowing him briefly, there's something about Henry that puts me at ease. He's nothing like Benjamin - no underlying current of control or manipulation. Just a guy in a tough spot asking for help.

"This is crazy," I mutter, more to myself than him. But the idea has already taken root. With that kind of backing, I could finally prove to everyone - especially myself - that I have what it takes to succeed.

"Completely insane," Henry agrees with a crooked smile that makes my stomach flutter. "But sometimes crazy works out, right?"

"I'll... think about it," I say finally, breaking the heavy silence between us. My fingers trace along my coffee cup, its warmth long faded. "This isn't exactly a small decision."

Henry's shoulders relax slightly. "Of course. Take whatever time you need." His hand slides across the table, stopping just short of touching mine. "And Monica? I want you to know - thisarrangement would be completely on your terms. No pressure, no expectations."

"What about..." I gesture vaguely between us, memories of Benjamin's possessiveness creeping in uninvited. "Physical stuff?"

"Nothing you're not comfortable with. We'd need to sell it in public - hand-holding, maybe the occasional kiss for photos. But behind closed doors?" He shakes his head. "That's your call. Always."

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