Page 39 of Her Fantasy Husband

“No. I haven’t actually touched the capital, only the interest. Jamie got me a really smart financial advisor.”

“Good,” he said a little weakly. The sums of money involved must be huge. And the woman who owned it all was sitting across from him eating pizza, wearing tattered jeans, and sharing a house with a chicken. His head spun.

“So you see,” she said, gazing at him earnestly, “an annulment really isn’t an option. Or a divorce just yet. If grandmother found out our marriage wasn’t real, she could make things very difficult.”

“She couldn’t actually get her hands on the money?”

“My lawyer doesn’t think so. But it could tie up the money while it was sorted and that would delay all the works-in-progress. There are a lot of people relying on me.”

“Not to mention a lot of chickens.” He’d noticed the battery hen rehabilitation project half way down the list.

“Exactly.”

Bollocks.

Lexi was one of those rare things—a genuinely good person.

Unfortunately, his life right now would be a lot simpler if she were a money-grubbing little rich bitch.

He sighed. She was right. He couldn’t do it.

Life wasn’t fair.

When he remained silent, she reached across and took his hand. “I won’t hold you any longer than I have to. As soon as I turn twenty-four, we can start the divorce. It might look a little suspicious, but I think it will be okay.”

He knew he was going to say yes. He wasn’t a complete bastard, but Christ, he wanted sex again. Did that make him shallow? Did he care?

He looked down at where their hands were joined, hers much smaller, fine-boned with short nails. For a second, he contemplated sex with Lexi. She was his wife, after all. But only for a second. She was a disaster waiting to happen. Chaos incarnate. Look at her house. And while she’d said she’d never marry, she’d also said she wanted a family. She was everything he wasnotlooking for in a woman.

He had to keep reminding himself of that.

Think of all those exotic dancers Logan had promised to introduce him to at his club. Women who wanted a good time. Not ones who wanted to save the world.

Her lower lip was caught between sharp, white teeth while she waited for him to answer. He obviously took too long. “And really”—she broke the uncomfortable silence—“if you do want to…you know…with other women, then it’s okay.”

See, that proved how unsuitable she was. She couldn’t even say the word. Christ, until last night she’d been a goddamned virgin.

“I know you have needs…”

He doubted she realized exactly how big his need was. He held up a hand to stop her—she’d be setting him up with her best friend next. Why didn’t he like the idea that she’d given him carte blanche to sleep with other women? He hoped it wasn’t because she was his wife. That would be a bad way of thinking.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay?”

“You’ve got your six months.”

“Really?” She gave him a huge smile, and deep inside him, something melted.

“Really. And forget the sex. It’s no big deal.”

Ha. And I’ll probably go to Hell for lying.

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