Finally, we settled on an elegant band of thin, twisted white gold with a large but not too-large diamond with two smaller diamonds on either side. It had a matching set of wedding bands that I put on hold – no need to buy those too if this all went to hell – after assuring the saleswoman I'd make sure she was the one who rang up the sale on them as well. She wished me luck with my proposal and I went on my way.
I found Frankie's easily enough, and my car was where I didn't remember parking it. That was good though. I knew I hadn't driven home, but that hadn't guaranteed my car would be still be here. I told myself that I wouldn't drink tonight, nothing more than a single beer to give me an excuse for being at the bar, so I'd take my car home afterwards.
Unless she said no and then I'd just leave the car and let my dad try to find it when he stopped payments on it. Thinking about how pissed off that would make my dad made me smile. That would be my goal, I decided. No matter what I did, I would make sure it made my father angry. I'd follow his rules, but he'd regret ever making them.
I took a deep breath and started for the door. I hoped Livie would be here, but I wasn't counting on it. I'd probably have to charm my way to finding her again, but I was determined to make this happen, one way or another. If she said no, I needed the time to figure out what I was going to do next.
The interior of the bar was dimmer than I remembered, or maybe it was lighter outside, I wasn't sure. My eyes took a moment to adjust and then I was looking toward the bar, searching for caramel curls. For a minute, I thought I would have to talk to the dark-haired man standing behind the cash register, but then I saw her out of the corner of my eye. I took a few steps toward her before her head came up and she saw me. I saw the glimmer of recognition before she turned away to hand a customer their drink.
The bar was more crowded than it had been the night before, but that was probably because last night had been the late night people, the ones like me. Right now, these were the guys stopping in for a drink between work and going home. I made my way to the edge of the bar, somewhere I could sit out of the way and wait for the best moment to talk to her.
I watched as she went about doing her job, smiling and talking to the patrons, but she didn't come to me for several minutes. I hoped it was because she was busy and not because she was trying to avoid me. When she finally started toward me, she called over her shoulder to the man behind the counter.
“I am going to take my break.” She gestured for me to follow her.
I did and we went through a door marked Employees Only. I hoped she didn't get in trouble, but if she agreed to my proposal, it wouldn't matter what her boss said. She'd never have to come back here again if she didn't want to.
Once we were inside the small break room, she turned toward me, her face expressionless. “I am assuming you did not come here for another drink.”
I grinned at her. “Actually, I had something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“I do not want to deceive your father that we are engaged.”
“Okay,” I said. I hoped she'd get the difference in what I was about to say. “That's not what I want you to do anyway.”
She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, obviously waiting.
I pulled out the ring box and opened it. “I want you to marry me for real.”
Nothing. No change of expression at all.
I hurried to explain, “But not in the 'I love you' sense for real. I told you last night about my father is forcing me to get married or I’ll be disinherited.” She nodded so I continued, “What I said this morning was impulsive. I didn't plan it, but after you left, I couldn't bring myself to tell my father the truth. Then, I thought, maybe it didn't have to be a lie.”
She seemed to realize I wasn't joking with her because she sank down in a chair. I took the chair across from her and set the ring between us.
I suddenly thought of something that would end this quickly. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No.” She tilted her head and gave me a scrutinizing look.
“Then here's my proposal. Since you're working in this lovely place.” I gestured around us. “I'm assuming you're not rolling in money and I doubt that working at a bar has been your vision of the American dream. I have money but I need a wife for the next three years. If you agree to marry me, I'll pay you a hundred thousand dollars a year, and that's not counting access to the penthouse, cars and things like that. After our third anniversary, you file for divorce and I'll agree to twenty thousand dollars a year, after taxes, for alimony.” I looked down at the ring. “Plus you get to keep the ring and any other gifts you get. And the day we get married, I'll give you a fifty thousand dollar bonus.”
She didn't respond for nearly a full minute so I finally looked up. She appeared to be thinking.
“Look, Liv, I completely understand if you think this is crazy and don't want to do it,” I said. “But I figured since I'd already introduced you to my dad – well, more or less – I might as well see if you want to follow through on it.”
“Livie,” she said.
“What?”
“My name. Livie Dusek.” She leaned forward and picked up the ring box. “I do not need to marry for a green card.”
“Okay,” I said. “Do you already have one?”
“No,” she said. “But I have applied.”
“Getting married would help with things in that respect,” I said.
“I would have conditions of my own.”
I couldn't believe she was actually considering it. I hadn't realized I'd been certain she’d say no until she didn't. Granted, I still had to hear her conditions, but I'd already considered what I'd do if she asked for more money. I'd pitched the amounts low for bargaining purposes in the first place.
“No sex.”
I blinked. I had to have misheard her.
She made sure to clarify. “There is to be no physical contact between the two of us.” She paused, and then added, “A kiss at the ceremony and the occasional public touch to preserve the illusion will be allowed.”
Dammit. It wasn't like I'd expected her to jump into bed with me, but I'd assumed things would get there eventually. I mean, a honeymoon was a honeymoon, and it wasn't like I was hideous. Even with Rebecca, I figured I'd get at least something, if only random hook ups just for good sex. Well, maybe not with her, but that was a moot point.
“This is my only condition,” she said. “We will maintain the appearance of a marriage in public, but we will not be physically intimate.”
Her only condition? She wasn't going to ask for more money? I sat back in my chair. My father's warning about infidelity buzzed in my head, but I pushed it aside. There would be ways around it. At least Liv seemed like a decent person.
“All right,” I said. “Let's do this.”
Eleven
Katka
It had been a long day and I was so looking forward to a hot shower and crashing for the rest of the night. Maybe some wine and ice cream. It was better than it sounded.
I was curled up on the couch, a half-empty glass on the coffee table and a bag of potato chips next to me when Livie finally got home. I scooted over, waiting for her to join me on the couch. It was our ritual when the two of us worked the same shift that we'd spend a couple hours together when we got home, just relaxing and hanging out.
I waited for a minute and when she didn't come over, I sat up, frowning. “Livie? Is everything alright?”
She was standing there, this expression on her face that I couldn't quite read. Panic flooded me. I could always read Livie. We rarely needed to talk to know what the other one was thinking. Except now, I needed to ask the question.
“What is wrong?” I got to my feet, a thousand worries flooding me. Was she sick? Had she gotten fired again? Or quit because one too many men had hit on her?
“I am getting married.”
I sat back down again, all of the strength running out of my legs. She must have said it wrong, chosen an incorrect w
ord. We had learned English as children, but hadn't used it frequently until coming here. There were still times when we struggled with choosing the right words. This must have been one of those times.
Livie came over and sat down next to me. “Hear me out. Last night–”
“You did not come home.” I grinned when she scowled at me. It was a shaky smile, but I managed. This had to have something to do with last night's events.
“A young man came into a bar for a drink. He passed out and I took him home. I stayed to ensure he was safe.”
My grin widened and I wiggled my eyebrows at her. I knew nothing had happened. My sister did not go home with strange men or have one-night stands. It didn't make teasing her any less fun.
She glared at me as she went on with her story. “This morning, his father came to see him. The young man, Blayne Westmore, was given an ultimatum by his father. To marry or lose his inheritance. For some unknown reason, Blayne told his father that I was his fiancée.”
I stared at her. It was like something out of a soap opera. It still didn't explain, though, why she had said she was getting married.
“He came back this evening,” she said. “And proposed.”
I couldn't find the English words for what I wanted to say so I switched to our native language. “You must be joking.”
She shook her head and held out her hand. There, on her left ring finger, was the most beautiful ring I had ever seen. It was elegant and expensive. I let out a low whistle and grabbed her hand, looking at it from every angle.
“It is not romance, Kat,” she said firmly. “It is a business arrangement.”
I dropped her hand. “Explain.”
“He has agreed to pay me handsomely to marry him and maintain the lie that he told his father this morning.”
Anger flared sharply and I couldn't keep going in English. “What the hell, Livie? You were angry with me for suggesting we marry someone through an agency to secure our green cards and instead you agree to marry some random guy from a bar?”
She waited until I was done. “We have a contract,” she said. “Or at least we shall. It will be signed before the wedding on Saturday.”
My head was spinning. Had she just said she was getting married on Saturday?
“There will be no physical contact between us,” she assured me. “I am not prostituting myself. It is marriage only.”
And then she told me how much he was going to pay.
“You are going to marry this stranger?” I asked.
“Blayne Westmore,” she repeated his name.
This time, the last name clicked. “Westmore?” My eyes widened as the rest of the name registered. I let out a string of curse words in both languages.
Now it was her turn to look confused.
“Blayne Westmore is a womanizer,” I said. “He known for drinking, drugs and sleeping with all kinds of women.”
She laughed. It wasn't a full laugh, but an amused one. It was better than nothing though. “He passed out on the bar. I did not think he was a white knight, Katka.” She looked down at the ring. “You are the one who believes in such things. The one who believes in her charming prince.”
“Prince Charming,” I corrected. “And I still do not think this is a good idea.”
“I am a capable woman,” she said. “I know what I am doing.”
“And where will you live?” I asked. “Have you thought of that? If you are to convince his family that you are indeed married, you will need to live with him.”
She nodded, her eyes darting away from me, and I knew that she had already considered the living arrangements. “I will live with him, yes. He has a penthouse in the inner city and there is a guest room that will be mine.”
Sure, I thought. A guest room until he came up with some reason that she needed to sleep in his room, or he managed to 'wander into her room accidentally' and seduced her. I loved my sister and knew she had strong opinions about sex and dating. I also knew that, beneath her hard exterior, was a soft and tender heart. She was marrying Blayne for logical reasons, but I knew a part of her hadn't been able to hear a sad story and let it go. If he tried, I was sure he could manipulate her into sleeping with him.
“You can still stay here,” she continued, unaware of my thoughts. “The money he gives me on Saturday will more than cover the rent.”
“But you need it for your business.” I knew I sounded like a sullen child, but her actions worried me. She had her idea of the American dream and it was more dangerous than what she considered to be my romantic streak. I wanted to believe in true love, but I did have enough of my sister's pragmatism not to count on it. With Livie, she totally believed that her dream was attainable.
“I have already discussed this with Blayne,” she said.
I didn't like the familiar way she said his name. She didn't even know him and was talking like they were old friends... or lovers.
“The one hundred thousand dollars per year will be broken into two payments. I will receive the first half in six months, the second on our first anniversary.”
“And should he choose not to pay you?”
“When we return from our honeymoon, I will be applying for a business loan.”
I raised my eyebrow. She and I both knew how that would go.
She mirrored my expression and I caught a hint of mockery that made me smile despite myself. Whenever I caught a glimpse of the girl she had been, I couldn't help but smile.
“This time will be different,” she said. “I can use the Westmore name to secure a business loan that I will pay back with the money he pays me over the next three years.” She came over and knelt in front of me, taking my hands between hers. Her expression was earnest. “Kat, this will give us everything we have dreamed of since we were little girls. No more waiting tables or letting men leer at us while we struggle to save scraps. We will have it all.”
“But what will you need to give up for it?” I asked. I was rarely serious, but Livie's actions robbed me of my usual levity.
“Nothing,” she said dismissively. “All he wishes is for the appearance of a marriage.” Her eyes lit up. “Just think of the connections I will make as his wife.”
“They will not accept you as one of them, Livie.”
Her grip on my hands tightened minutely, the only indication that my words bothered her.
“I do not need them to consider me an equal. I will be able to design my own clothes and wear them to society and family functions.” She stood. “You will see, little Kat. This will be a great thing, for both of us.”
I knew that tone. She'd made up her mind and there would be no talking her out of it.
“I am going to shower and then I will be out to hear about your day.”
I waited until the bathroom door closed behind her before letting out a loud sigh. This was such a bad idea. Livie was smart. Like gifted smart, but I knew that didn't always translate into common sense. Most of the time she was the most grounded person I knew, but she'd always had this blind spot when it came to her idea of what our lives in America should be. Unlike a lot of the girls in the orphanage who had dreamed of coming to America, a husband had never factored into the picture, only her dream business.
I pulled my feet up onto the couch and tucked them under me as I reached for my wine glass. I emptied it and then poured myself another. I needed some time to think about this. As much as I wanted Livie to get everything she ever wanted, I didn't trust this Blayne Westmore to keep his end of the bargain. I just needed to figure out a way to convince her of this.
Before Saturday.
Twelve
Livie
I debated the wisdom of quitting my job before Saturday, especially with Katka constantly in my ear, telling me all of the reasons this was a bad idea. If I quit my job and Blayne decided not to go through with the marriage, I would be unemployed with no prospects. In any case, I wouldn't be able to give a proper two-week's notice because, after the wedding, Blayne and I were go
ing on our honeymoon.
I had been surprised by that. Since this was a business arrangement, I had thought we might take a quick trip. Maybe to New York or Niagara Falls, using something as an excuse to appease his father. The wedding was a quick one, but Blayne had already told me that his father had agreed that if I wanted a large ceremony, it could be arranged as well. It just had to be legal this Saturday afternoon.
Blayne had assured me that, while our hotel reservations were for the honeymoon suite, he already planned on sleeping on the living room couch that the expensive hotels always provided in their suites. Apparently, we would be spending three days in London, three in Madrid, three in Paris and three in Venice. He seemed surprised that I'd already been to all of those places, but understood once I'd explained I had worked as a model for a few years. He'd been impressed by that, and then told me he'd told his father I was a businesswoman.
That had been the perfect opportunity for me to explain my plans to him and I was pleased at how supportive he'd been. We'd had that conversation on Wednesday. On Thursday evening, when an overly friendly customer tried to grab my breast and then asked how much it would cost to sleep with me, I quit. I may not have known Blayne very well, but I knew he wouldn't call things off.
Katka hadn't been pleased about that decision either and had made a point, on Friday, of informing me that she was going to work since one of us needed employment. I believed that Blayne would come through. After all, he had more to lose than I did. I told my sister that too, but she had merely commented that if he found a woman willing to sleep with him too, what was to stop him from breaking off our engagement and marrying her.
I hadn't tried to argue with her. I knew my sister. Once she decided that she was right about something, nothing could change her mind. She wouldn't believe that Blayne was going to marry me until I had the signed certificate, our prenuptial agreement that included all of the financial things he and I had discussed – couched in terms like 'allowance' and 'alimony' – and the first check had cleared. When I'd brought the contract home to review, she'd immediately pointed out that it said nothing about me not having to sleep with him. I'd countered by indicating the section that stated the agreement was null and void in the instance of any sort of abuse, entitling me to half of everything he stood to inherit or make. I didn't even bother to add that, no matter what his reputation was, Blayne would never force himself on a woman. She argued about how I knew that. Katka had spent the remainder of the night in her room, pouting.