Page 30 of Hot Puck
“I’d work around their needs. And yours.”
He cocks his head along with that eyebrow and asks, “What exactly are you offering me?”
This is the part that gets tricky, but I’ve done it before. I can do it again so both of us can have what we want, and in Chase’s case, what he deserves.
“A business agreement.”
“You’ll be the girls nanny?” His voice is filled with disbelief and confusion.
“No. I’d be your wife.”
Chase
For the second time today I’m laughing hysterically.
And it takes me a good couple of minutes to realize Natalie isn’t laughing at all.
Sucking in a breath, I stare at her.
Her mouth is tight but loose, if that makes any sense at all. Her eyes are steely, but not like earlier. There’s a hint of… challenge and determination, and dare I say, you’re-stupid-if you-don’t-see-I’m-right, flashing in them.
This is the face I imagine she wears in board meetings or when dealing with players and agents. It’s her general manager of a professional hockey team face, her billionaire business owner face.
“You’re not joking,” I say incredulously.Why the hell is she not joking?
“No.” Shaking her head slightly, she keeps her gaze on mine, never once losing her confident-this-is-right expression. “I know it sounds unconventional?—”
“Unconventional?” I snort. “It’s fucking crazy is what it is.”
“Hear me out. It would be in name only, so you have a backup for the girls. And later, when you find someone you want to be with, we’ll get divorced, but I’ll still be the second parental figure for the girls.”
“Candace won’t be an adult for eighteen years. Why would you tie yourself to us for that long?”
“You and I might not be tied that long. As I said, when you find someone?—”
“I hate to break it to you but I’m not stepping out on any vows I make to a woman, in name only or otherwise, so there would be no finding someone.”
“Right. Okay. Well. Let me tell you a little more about me so you can understand why I’ve put forward thisunconventionalsuggestion.”
I snort-laugh at her emphasis of unconventional but otherwise remain quiet.
“I come from money, a lot of it, but it was tied up in trusts for most of my life. The only way to unlock them was to turn a certain age or get married. At twenty-two, with billions of dollars and multiple companies at stake, I married Johnathon Whitman to secure them all. In name only. I’m in the process of divorcing?—”
I jerk back, almost toppling my chair. “You’re married!” Why this shocks me I don’t know. She’s in her late twenties—“Wait. How old are you?”
“Thirty-four.”
“I’m twenty-one in two months.”
“I know.”
“Then you know how that’s going to look.”
“No one will know we’re married except you and me unless something happens to either you or one of the girls, and I’ll be praying nothing does and I’m not religious.”
I lean back in my seat, making sure all four legs are on the floor, and study her. She’s completely serious and I can’t quite wrap my head around it.
Why would a woman who looks like her, who has money and success, want to tie herself to a twenty-year-old and his three underage sisters?
