Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
He was always dressed rather smartly, never coming in wearing something as casual as a tee like your typical university student. Pandora could absolutely see him rocking a waistcoat. Maybe even a cravat.
He didn’t seem like the dancing sort, but she was sure that he could be taught a basic waltz. And she totally didn’t want him to learn just because she wanted to feel his hand at the small of her back, his other one holding hers, their bodies pressed close as he moved her around the floor …
Pandora shook her head, trying to stop getting swept up in fantasies, so she could focus on the potential reality.
Victor needed money.
Pandora was just months away from having an astronomical sum of it.
A marriage could solve both of their problems.
It couldn’t hurt to ask him, right?
The hot macchiato in her hand was excuse enough to go over and test the waters, see if he would even entertain a conversation about it.
He looked so dejected.
He didn’t pull out his laptop or notebook, just sat there at his table, a closed book on the surface, his hand resting on top of it curled into a tense fist. His gaze was fixed on the wall, all of his defeat and disappointment etching sad lines in his forehead.
If there was one thing Pandora could relate to, it was the feeling of everything you ever wanted your whole life slipping away – all your dreams shattering around you.
The only good thing that came from that kind of destruction, by her estimation, was a bone-deep sort of desperation.
The kind of desperation that made her open to a fake marriage, to lying to her family, to living a lie herself.
The same kind of desperation she hoped might make Victor willing to hear her out. And not laugh in her face.
Rolling the tension out of her shoulders, Pandora moved out from behind the counter and made her way toward Victor’s table.
It took him a long second to snap out of his own mind and notice she was standing there.
When he did, she could have sworn she saw something warm flash in his eyes. Though that was almost certainly her own wishful thinking.
“Victor,” she said, passing him his coffee and then pulling out the chair opposite him to sit down. “I was wondering if I could discuss a potential … arrangement with you.”
6
“An arrangement?” Victor asked, reaching for his macchiato. Their hands brushed on the paper cup, making a shiver course down Pandora’s spine. She tried not to squirm in her seat. Or rub her thumb over the back of his hand like some creep.
“You see, those notes you were reading, they weren’t actually for a play,” she said, feeling like her belly was wobbling, knowing how she was opening herself up to ridicule if Victor thought she was peculiar.
“OK,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.
Pandora absolutely did not watch the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Because that would have been insane.
“What is it, then?” he said when she didn’t immediately tell him.
“They’re notes my friend Lucy and I are making up for the perfect … OK.” She paused, sucking in a deep breath. She didn’t actually need to breathe, of course, but the more time she spent around humans, the more she picked up on the many ways they used breathing to express themselves.
Sighs, deep exhales, sucking in a deep breath to prepare to do or say something uncomfortable.
Besides, if she was going to be out in public with humans, she needed to act like them. She had long since made herself take occasional breaths in case anyone was watching her too closely.
“I just want to preface this by saying that I’m not, you know, bananas or anything.”
“Always a great opener,” Victor said, deadpan, starting to look like he was regretting agreeing to hear her out.
“It’s going to sound ridiculous,” she told him. “But I’m serious. The situation is serious.”
“OK. What were the notes for, then?”
“We were compiling a list of potential traits for a husband.” Pandora watched as Victor’s brows rose and his eyes widened, clearly thinking she was not only ridiculous, but one of those pathetic, needy women who bordered on stalkers. “Not a real husband,” she added hurriedly. “A fake one.”
“For a book?” he asked, frowning. He clearly wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt here, but she was mucking it up.
“No, for the arrangement I mentioned,” Pandora said. Then, resting her arms on the tabletop, she leaned forward. “I’m looking for someone to act like my fake husband.”
To his credit, he only raised one brow at that.
“What for?”
“Well, see, my birthday is coming up. And, according to my parents, it’s a very important birthday.”
“Which one is it?” he asked.
“My one …” she started automatically, before catching herself. “My twenty-fifth.”