Page 11 of Under His Control
“It sounds harsh, but yes.” He shrugs. “Get a surrogate, do a quickie marriage, have the kid, then annul. Not exactly what Mother and Father had in mind in the spirit of the will, but it’d follow the letter. Surrogacy is a common practice nowadays. Plenty of people do it.”
“Except I’m not plenty of people, Damas,” I retort. “I’d need to be sure that the woman has no intention of claiming the child later. In order to do something like that, you’d need absolute trust, which I’d never have in a random surrogate.”
He begins pacing. “Alright, so if not a stranger, then how about someone you’ve dated? That one woman, what was her name, Catarina?”
My jaw sets. “Catarina was a passing affair. She made it perfectly clear in her words and behavior that she’s not the maternal type.”
Damas lets out a humorless laugh. “Are you sure? Because for the right amount, I’ll bet she’d find a maternal streak quickly. You’d barely have to see her. She pops out your kid, you pay her a fortune, she disappears. You hire the best nannies and tutors, then file for divorce down the line. Problem solved.”
“Do you even hear yourself?” I shoot him a scorching glare. “I’m not turning my child’s future into a crass business transaction. I might be a pragmatic businessman, but I’m not heartless.”
He raises his hands defensively. “I’m just exploring all the angles, big brother. If you’re determined to see your child raised in a stable environment, you need a woman who’s open to the idea. That’s going to be tough. Not every woman wants to be the next Mrs. Ovechkina.”
A flicker of irritation flares. “Don’t be ridiculous. Plenty of women would jump at the chance to marry me for my money, but that doesn’t mean I’d trust them. Plus, I’m not so sure I even want a wife. What I am sure of is that I don’t want to lose theHospitium.”
“It sounds like you’re in quite the bind.” Damas circles around my desk and places his hands on the back of my chair. “Do you have any other prospects in mind? Maybe some woman you actually like?”
I clamp my mouth shut. I’ve been seeing a woman or two casually, but none who strike me as wife or mother material. I haven’t met anyone that sparks that deep, primal interest beyond a surface-level attraction.
“No,” I reply. “And if you so much as mention that I should propose to any other of my exes, I’ll throw you out of this office.”
He chuckles. “Noted.”
Silence stretches between us. I can hear the faint hum of the air conditioning, see the swirl of dust motes in the sunlight streaming through the window. My father’s portrait stares down at me from across the room, as if silently judging.
Damas comes back around my desk, taking a seat in one of the guest chairs, and clearing his throat. “Look, maybe it’s not all doom and gloom. At least you have options. If it came down to it, I could buy theHospitium, keep it in the family, but I’m guessing that’s not something you’d want.”
I slam a hand on the desk with more force than intended. “Absolutely not. TheHospitiumis mine.Father left it to me. No offense, brother, but you didn’t even show an interest in running a lemonade stand when we were kids, let alone a hotel. I’m not handing it over to you.”
He smirks. “Touchy, aren’t we?”
“Yes,” I say through clenched teeth. “This hotel is my life. I’ve poured countless hours and passion into every expansion and partnership. I’ve sacrificed normalcy. I’ve missed multiple special events; I never take vacations.”
Damas lifts a brow, as though impressed by my vehemence. “I get it. TheHospitiumis your baby, which is why I’m saying maybe there’s a simpler solution. Find someone you can stand to be around, someone who wants kids, and put a ring on it.”
I blow out a breath, ignoring the near-laughable phrasing. “What if I don’t find someone in time? The documents state that I have to produce an heir within a certain time period, not just a marriage.”
“You do have to move quickly. But presumably, if you’re married and actively trying to have a kid, the lawyers might grant an extension. The sooner you get married, the stronger your case is that you’re honoring Father’s will in good faith.”
“Huh.” I lean forward, elbows on the desk. “So I get married, and we say we’re attempting to conceive. The board of lawyers seesI’m upholding the terms, and they back off for a while. Figure the heir thing will come along down the road.”
Damas spreads his hands. “You’re the genius business negotiator. I’d expect no less from you. Just do your usual trick and find the best compromise. If you can secure a marriage license, maybe they’ll give you more time. At least, that’s how I’d play it.”
It’s cold, it’s calculating, and it’s not how I pictured my future, but it’s the best plan on the table right now.
That said, I’m not about to propose to a random woman on the street. “I’m not comfortable going into a fake marriage. I can’t treat my wife like she’s a contract.”
Damas shrugs. “Sure you can. It happens all the time. Money, power, the chance to be Mrs. Ovechkina. Women have married for less.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re impossible. Perhaps it starts off transactional, but it doesn’t have to stay that way.”
His lips quirk. “You’re being sentimental, big brother. Never thought I’d see that. But I get it. You’re not content with a faceless baby incubator. You want a woman you respect. That’s kind of sweet, actually.” He laughs.
I get up and pace behind my desk. “It’s not sweet, it’s practical. If we’re sharing a child, I can’t hate her. Or worse, not trust her at all. That’s a recipe for disaster.”
“Hey, I’m on your side,” he replies, palms up. “So how do you propose to find such a woman? Speed dating? Hinge?”
“God.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I have no idea. This entire scenario is insane.”
