money?”
“No one will find out. I’m not going to tell anyone. You’re not going to tell anyone. We only have to fake being madly in love once or twice around other people so my grandfather buys it. Behind closed doors, we can do our own thing.”
Madly in love. Faking that would be a seriously tall order when he’d never been so much as a tiny bit in love. “Why can’t you have the money unless you get divorced? That’s the weirdest trust clause I’ve ever heard.”
“Nosy, aren’t you?”
He raised a brow. “Well, now, darlin’, you just proposed to me. I’m entitled to a few questions.”
“My grandfather is old-fashioned. When my parents died…” Her lips firmed into a flat line. “He wants me to be taken care of, and in his mind, that means a husband. I’m supposed to fall in love and get married and have babies, not get a divorce. The money is a safety net in case the husband bails, one I put considerable effort into convincing my grandfather to include.”
“Your grandfather has met you, right?” He grinned. “Five minutes into our acquaintance, and I would never make the mistake of thinking you can’t look after yourself. Why thirty-five? You don’t strike me as one to blow your trust fund on cocaine and roulette.”
“I donated all the money I inherited from my parents to the shelter where I work,” she snapped, as if daring him to say something—anything—about it. “And don’t go thinking I’m looking for handouts. My grandfather set up the trust and deposits the considerable interest directly into my bank account. I have more than enough to live on, but not enough to build a shelter. He’s hoping I’ll lose enthusiasm for battered women by thirty-five.”
“Well, that’s obviously not going to happen.”
“No. And I don’t enjoy being manipulated into marriage.” She tightened the lock of her crossed arms. “Look, it’s not like I’m asking you to hurt puppies or put your money into a pyramid scheme. This is going to save lives. Women who suffer domestic abuse have nowhere to go. Most of them don’t have much education and have to work to feed their kids. Consider it charity. Or are you too selfish?”
“Hey now. I’m on the Habitat for Humanity board. I tithe my ten percent. Give me a break.”
Good button to push, though, because against his will, wheels started turning.
Six months wasn’t too much of a sacrifice for the greater good, was it? Abuse was a terrible evil, and a charity that helped abuse victims was well worth supporting. He took in Cia’s fierce little form and couldn’t help but wonder what had sparked all that passion. Did she reserve it for crusading or did she burn this brightly in other one-on-one situations, too?
Through the glass separating the balcony from the ballroom, he watched his grandparents slow dance in the midst of his parents’ friends. Could he make this fake marriage work and protect his family from divorce fallout at the same time? He couldn’t deny how far a nice, stable wife might go toward combating his problems with Lana’s husband. Probably not a bad idea to swear off women for a while anyway. Maybe if he kept Cia away from his family as much as possible, Mama would eventually forget about the absentee daughter-in-law.
No. No way. This whole setup gave him hives.
Mama would never let him keep a wife squirreled away, no matter what he intended. Cia could find someone else to marry, and together he and Matthew would straighten out the kinks in Wheeler Family Partners’ client list. “As…interesting as all this sounds, afraid I’ll have to pass.”
“Not so fast.” Her gaze pierced him with a prickly, no-nonsense librarian thing. “I’m trusting you with this information. Don’t disappoint me or you’ll spend the next six months tied up in court. My grandfather is selling the cell phone division of Manzanares and moving the remainder of the business to a smaller facility. I’m sure you’re familiar