Page 6 of Slightly Married
“Oh, I’ll honor it. But this partnership will have rules and an expiration date.”
3
“Engaged?” Lauren’s jaw slackened as she sank deeper into my cream sectional. “Aren’t you still married?”
I paced across my SoHo loft’s pale oak floors. The diamond tennis bracelet on my wrist caught the sunlight from the tall windows with each movement.
“My divorce was finalized yesterday,” I said, pausing to adjust one of the vibrant abstract paintings I’d brought back from Paris. “Got the email from my lawyer while the plane was over the Atlantic.”
Lauren’s concerned eyes followed me. We met four years ago on the set of an off-Broadway revival of A Streetcar Named Desire, where I was the costume designer and she was the ingénue under fire. We’ve been inseparable since.
“So let me get this straight,” she said, tucking her legs beneath her. “You fly back after three months of hiding out in Paris, waltz into your father’s office, and offer yourself up to marry some dude you ain’t never met?”
“I couldn’t sit back and watch Simone be forced into a marriage,” I replied. “You should have seen her face when she called me. She was devastated but resigned to do it to please Daddy.”
Besides, I reasoned, a marriage of convenience had advantages over a love match. Love had left me exposed, raw and humiliated.
This arrangement with Konstantin was all business. No emotions to cloud judgment or create expectations that would inevitably be shattered. I could handle a transaction. It was safer that way.
Lauren shook her head. “So you sacrificed yourself instead? My sister’d sell me for a half-decent horse and a new pair of boots.”
I laughed despite myself. “That’s because your sister is a demon in cowboy boots.”
The security buzzer interrupted our conversation. I crossed to the sleek kitchen island with its dramatic marble waterfall edge and pressed the intercom.
“Yes?”
“It’s me. Let me up,” Simone’s voice came through.
Moments later, my sister appeared in my doorway wearing a silk blue blouse, tucked perfectly into a navy pencil skirt that hugged her curves. Her coily hair was sleeked back into a low bun, accentuating her high cheekbones and flawless sepia skin. The gold watch on her wrist and nude heels completed her appearance. Even in distress, Simone looked like she’d stepped out of a business magazine spread.
Despite her protestations about my meddling in her wardrobe, I took satisfaction in how my styling choices had transformed my pragmatic sister into the embodiment of executive elegance.
“What were you thinking, Kay?” she asked, her voice tight. Unlike me, Simone never needed volume to convey outrage.
I crossed to my open kitchen and reached for another wineglass. The ruby liquid splashed as I poured her a glass of the Cabernet we both loved.
“Here,” I said, offering it.
Simone accepted the glass but didn’t drink. “Why would you do this?”
Lauren shifted on the sofa. “She was just fixin’ to tell me right before you walked in.”
With a soft sigh, she moved across the room and settled onto the sectional next to Lauren, smoothing her skirt as she sat.
“Did Daddy tell you all the details of this arrangement?” I asked, watching her reaction.
Confusion rippled across her placid features. “What details?”
I settled on a barstool and recounted everything from the night before. I told them about barging into Daddy’s office, my impulsive decision to take Simone’s place, and Konstantin’s unexpected presence in the shadows.
“He was just standing there the whole time,” I said, gesturing with my glass. “And when I offered myself as the substitute bride, he stepped forward and accepted me without hesitation.” I took a long sip before adding the part that still stunned me. “Then Daddy dropped the real bombshell. He wants a baby to be born from the union. It’s the condition for Konstantin getting his island and for Simone keeping her job at the company.”
The room fell silent except for the low sounds of RnB from my Bluetooth speaker.
“I want a baby,” I added softly.
Finally, Simone placed her glass down and made her way over to me, wrapping her arms around me. I pulled her close, enjoying her warmth. “Thank you,” she whispered over my shoulder.
