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)
“What’s so special about that one?”
“It’s when I’m supposed to get my inheritance,” she told him, watching as surprise flashed across his gorgeous eyes. It wasn’t every day that you heard someone was from that kind of wealth. Most people were just trying to get by.
“You’re some kind of heiress?” Victor asked, likely trying to figure out why she was working at a coffee shop, then. But also probably assuming that wealthy people could be quirky and expect her to prove she was responsible enough for her wealth by working a normal job for a few years.
Pandora wanted to deny that.
But it was the best way to describe her situation.
“Yes,” she said, nodding.
“I don’t understand how a fake husband factors into any of this.”
“Well, my family just informed me that to inherit my fortune, I need to be … married,” she said, almost choking on the word. “I know.” She shook her head at Victor’s scrunched brows.
“That’s some patriarchal bullshit,” he said.
“That’s what I said!” Pandora said, smiling at him for a second before trying to get serious again. “But my parents are … very traditional. They really dug their heels in about this. They won’t hear of me inheriting if I’m not married.”
“So you are going to fake being married?” Victor asked.
“Well, no. I actually have to be married. But the relationship itself will be, you know, fake. All for show, kind of thing.”
“That’s … a lot to take in,” Victor said, twisting his coffee cup in slow circles on the surface of the table.
“I know. And it has to be convincing, which is why Lucy and I drew up the list.”
“He has to … smolder?” Victor asked, a hint of teasing slipping into his tone.
“We kind of meant that he has to try to look at me like he’s attracted to me,” Pandora said.
“That shouldn’t be hard. And waltzing?”
“Well, you know, like … wedding dances and such?”
“Guess that’s also why there was a note about waistcoats and cravats?”
“Exactly,” she said, nodding.
“And he has to have a tragic backstory?”
“What?” Pandora asked, brows raising. “No. No, that’s not … mandatory. Lucy went a little crazy with her notes. We’d only gone over a few of them.”
Victor nodded at that before sitting back.
“Why are you telling me all of this?” he asked, watching her with those verdant eyes of his. She’d imagined just this moment countless times before, what it might feel like to have his undivided attention, to see his gorgeous eyes looking at her like he was truly seeing her, not just glancing at her from the other side of the counter.
It was better than she’d imagined.
She had a sinking feeling, though, that what she was about to say was going to make him roll those eyes, tell her she was absurd, then rush out of the shop.
“Well, after hearing about your … predicament, I was starting to think we might be able to work together toward a common goal.”
“What goal is that?”
“My inheritance.”
Victor shook his head at her, making her stomach bottom out before he spoke. “I think I’m missing something here. Why does your inheritance have anything to do with me?”
“Well, you clearly need some money so you can go back to university. I’m about to come into a lot of money.”
“Wait … You want to pay me to—”
“Marry me, yes.” Pandora watched him, half expecting him to burst into laughter.
“You’re serious,” he said, leaning forward, bringing with him the scent of his cologne that she’d never been close enough to catch before. It was a cozy, warm scent. Leather, vanilla, and a hint of cinnamon. Pandora wanted to press her face into his neck, to breathe him in, to …
No.
Nope.
She couldn’t let her mind go there.
“I am very serious,” she told him. “I need my inheritance. My parents aren’t budging. And I am single. I really can’t think of any other way to handle this.”
Victor sat with that a second, his gaze moving past her, staring at the back wall, giving Pandora the opportunity to gaze at him without being seen as a complete creep.
She could see the gears turning in his mind, could picture him trying to sift through all of the reasons this was a terrible idea. He didn’t know her. She could be lying to him. He might waste precious time of his life all for nothing.
But she thought she could see the moment when he latched on to the possibility of this arrangement.
Going back to uni. Finishing his PhD. Which, in turn, would likely mean he would be able to work toward his dream job, whatever that was.
Not having to go back and live with his parents. Not being stuck in a dead-end job. Not having all his dreams shatter down at his feet.
His green eyes cut back to hers.
“What is the catch?”