A Contract, a Wedding, a Wife? Read online

  How naïve she’d been.

  ‘Well, why don’t you have a think about what you’d feel comfortable telling people you do? You’re a business owner; why don’t you go with that?’

  She nodded slowly, her earlier irritation at his imagined snobbery subsiding. ‘Okay. Business owner it is.’

  He nodded. ‘And what do you intend to tell your family about our arrangement?’ he asked in a careful tone.

  ‘I’m going to say I’ve taken a job as your live-in housekeeper, for which you’re going to pay me an exorbitant wage.’

  He nodded, then pulled out his phone and began to type onto the touch screen, presumably making a note of her demands, and his, so they’d have something to refer back to should there be any issues in the future.

  ‘They’d buy that much more readily than the truth—that I’m marrying a total stranger,’ she added with a strange tingling feeling in her throat.

  It felt so odd to say those words. Whenever she’d imagined getting married, which hadn’t been very often recently, owing to her life being too complicated for her to think that far into the future, she’d imagined herself meeting a guy, their mutual love of board games bringing them together, and dating him for a couple of years before moving in together, then him proposing to her out of the blue in some far-flung romantic destination, like Hawaii or Morocco, or maybe on a Mediterranean island whilst sailing through the clear blue water in a yacht.

  They’d get married in a quaint little church with all their friends and family watching and throw a huge party afterwards, where they’d dance the night away together. Then, a year or two later, after they’d had some time together as a couple, they’d have kids, maybe three or four of them.

  She’d always wanted a big family.

  When she was younger, sitting bored and frustrated at school during subjects she couldn’t get a handle on no matter how hard she tried, she’d fantasised about what it would be like to be a mother. How she’d make her kids big bowls of hearty food, which they’d gobble down gratefully before going off to play happily with their toys, or do finger-painting with her at the kitchen table, laughing about the mess they were making together. Or she’d imagine ruffling their hair at the school gates and receiving rib-crushing hugs in return before they ran in, with her shouting that she loved them, which they’d pretend to find embarrassing but would secretly adore. Then later in the evening she’d tuck her sleepy, happy kids up into bed before spending the rest of the evening with her gorgeous husband, chatting about the day they’d had before retiring to bed together hand in hand.

  That all seemed a million miles away now though.

  It had been ages since she’d been on a proper date with anyone and even then they’d barely got to the kissing stage before her lifestyle and responsibilities had got in the way of things developing any further. She’d made it clear that her family came first and that had destroyed the chances of a relationship.

  Not that she blamed her mother and sister. Not a bit. In fact, despite their difficult circumstances, she quite liked being the head of the family. The one that everyone relied on. It gave her a sense of purpose that had previously been lacking in her life.

  Yes, anyway, it was a good thing that Xavier had insisted on a purely platonic relationship. It wasn’t like she had any time for romance.

  ‘How old are you, Soli?’ Xavier asked brusquely, jolting her back to the present.

  A shiver of disquiet tickled down her spine. Was he worried she wasn’t mature enough to deal with this?

  ‘I’m twenty-one,’ she said, setting back her shoulders and fixing him with a determined stare. ‘Old enough to know my own mind,’ she added firmly.

  His eyes assessed her for a couple of beats more before he nodded. ‘Okay, then. I guess that’s everything we need to discuss today.’ He put his phone down on his desk, arranging it so it sat parallel with his keyboard, before looking up and giving her his full attention again. ‘Look, I appreciate this is a lot to take in right now, so why don’t you go away and have a think about it, to make sure you’re comfortable with everything we’ve discussed? It’s a big decision to make and I don’t expect you to sign up for it until you’ve had a chance to check me out first.’

  She nodded jerkily. Despite her bravado, she was actually glad of the chance to go and think about this away from his discombobulating presence, just to make sure she hadn’t overlooked something important. ‘Okay. I’ll do that. It really wouldn’t do to marry an axe murderer by mistake,’ she said, flashing him a jokey grin.

  Ignoring her attempt at levity, he opened a drawer in his desk and took out a business card which he handed to her. ‘This has my personal mobile number and address on it. Give me a call when you’re ready to talk again.’ He paused and frowned. ‘But don’t leave it too long or I might find someone else to marry in the meantime.’

  For a second she wasn’t sure whether he was joking or not. He didn’t seem to do smiling, at least not the kind that made him look as though he was genuinely happy. Cynical. That was what he came across as. And reserved.

  She wondered fleetingly what had happened to him to make him like that, but pushed the thought away. It wasn’t important right now and she really shouldn’t allow herself to get emotionally attached to him anyway, not if this was going to work as a purely business arrangement.

  ‘Okay, thanks. I’ll get in touch very soon,’ she replied, taking the card from his fingers.

  She shot him a tense smile, then got up from the desk on shaky legs and turned to go.

  ‘And Solitaire.’

  She turned back.

  ‘If I find out the details of this proposition have been leaked to the Press I’ll know where to find you.’ There was a heavy pause before he added, ‘And you’ll find your business and your family swiftly evicted from my property.’

  ‘Understood,’ she said, then left the office of her potential future husband, wondering what in the heck she’d just got herself into.

  * * *

  Back at the café, she relieved Callie, who waitressed for them a lot and had kindly agreed to work an extra shift that morning so Soli could go to the McQueen Property office. Once she’d caught up with the daily tasks and served a sudden rush of customers, she sat behind the serving counter with her laptop and typed Xavier’s name into the search engine with trembling fingers.

  She’d already looked him up before the meeting, of course, scouring the web pages for something she could use in her defence against him, but to her frustration had found him to be squeaky clean. At least at first glance. She needed to put in more thorough due diligence here though if she was going to commit to live with the man for a year. The last thing she needed was to find herself sucked into something she’d not anticipated and then couldn’t escape from without causing more harm to her situation.

  But as hard as she looked, she couldn’t find anything that threw even the meanest of shadows over his reputation.

  The only things that came up about him were on gossip sites, where they mentioned him in relation to the high-society women he’d had flings with over the last few years. The man appeared to be some kind of international playboy, always showing up at high-profile fundraisers and gallery openings with a different, instantly recognisable woman on his arm. He was like a character from one of the romantic novels she liked to gobble up like sweets for escapism from her busy, stressful existence. She’d never really believed such a person could exist in real life, but here he was, a living, breathing, alpha male business tycoon.

  So he checked out okay online.

  Picking up her phone, she called a friend who was a police officer in the Met and asked him if there was any way he could have a check around about Xavier, pretending she was doing it for business reasons concerning the café. Mercifully, her friend seemed to buy that and asked her to leave it with him.

  She spent the r
est of the day in a jumpy, nerve-filled state and was mightily relieved when her friend called her back in the early evening to let her know that nothing negative at all had come back to him with regard to Xavier, either personally or with his business. It seemed he was an upstanding citizen of the realm.

  The only thing left to do now was to check out exactly where his house was using an online map app—just to make sure he wasn’t expecting her to live in some kind of broken-down hovel. Not that she expected to encounter that. Judging by the high-end furniture and breathtaking elegance of his office, she couldn’t imagine his house being a place she wouldn’t like to spend time in. She could have happily lived right there in his office if he’d asked her to, with that wonderful view over the water. It certainly beat the one she had from their living room window over the busy, vehicle-choked high street, or the one of the bins in their small back yard from the bedroom she shared with her sister.

  Not that she was complaining about her lot. Home was where her family was and she’d been happy living here above the café with them. Staying in this flat had made her feel closer to her father somehow. She could still picture him sitting in the battered old leather armchair by the window after long shifts in the café, with a paperback resting on his knee and his requisite triple-shot black coffee on the small table beside him. He’d hated working at the bank and after twenty years he’d finally given up corporate life and they’d all downsized so he could run the board game café, a dream he’d had for years.

  Sadly, he’d only worked there for five years before he died. Still, Soli was glad he’d had the opportunity to realise his dream. Ever since she’d lost him the café had become a symbol of hope for her, as well as a reminder that hard work and dedication paid off—something she’d been slow to learn in her younger years, to her everlasting shame.

  Shaking off the guilt that always gave her a painful jab when she remembered how selfishly she’d acted in her teens, she got up from behind the counter to close up after the last stragglers made their way out onto the street, waving cheerily to her and calling their thanks. If only they had more regulars like them, the type that bought food and drink every hour as they played, the café would have some hope of survival.

  She just needed to find a way to entice those types of people to walk through the door.

  After locking up behind them and giving the floor a sweep and the tables one last wipe, Soli walked into the middle of the room and tried to survey it with objective eyes. Why weren’t people coming in as much as they’d used to? Sure, it was a bit shabby-looking now after years of wear and tear and it could probably do with a bit of sprucing up, but it had a friendly, comfortable aura to it, and didn’t people love shabby chic these days?

  She hated the idea of messing with what her father had done to the café. He’d sanded and varnished the wooden tables himself, painted the walls, chosen the now slightly chipped crockery, and she couldn’t imagine any of it changing. It would be like wiping her father’s soul from the place.

  She shuddered, hating the very thought of that.

  No, she’d try advertising first, then think about any alterations they might have to make once the money was flowing in again.

  Assuming they didn’t lose the tenancy in the meantime.

  Taking a breath, she focused on calming her suddenly raging pulse. All she needed to do was marry Xavier McQueen and everything would be okay.

  The utter bizarreness of that thought made her laugh out loud.

  Shaking her head at the surreal turn her life had taken, she went to the till to make sure it had been cashed up properly, grimacing at the sight of the meagre takings for the day. Yes, something definitely needed to change.

  Picking up her phone, she tapped in the number he’d given her. He picked up after two rings.

  ‘Xavier McQueen.’

  ‘It’s Soli.’

  ‘Hi,’ was all he said in reply.

  There was a pause in which the weight of expectation hung heavily in the air.

  ‘So I checked up on you and it turns out you’re not an axe murderer,’ she quipped nervously.

  There was a uncomfortable pause when he didn’t respond.

  Okay, then. Jokes weren’t deemed appropriate right now. Wow, this guy was so businesslike.

  Probably best just to get down to business, then.

  ‘So I’ve thought about it and I still want to go ahead with our deal.’

  ‘Great, that’s great.’ She could hear the relief in his voice. ‘I’ll arrange for a solicitor to draw up a pre-nuptial contract and another one that states the terms of our deal, which we’ll both need to sign.’ His tone was professional again now.

  ‘I’ll give notice at the register office that we want to get married but we’ll have to wait twenty-eight days before we can legally perform the ceremony. The closest one is near St Pancras Station, but I’m assuming you won’t have an issue with where the formality of it takes place.’ It wasn’t a question, she realised. ‘It’s not like we’ll be having a big celebration with friends and family,’ he added when she didn’t reply right away.

  ‘Er, no, that’s fine.’ The words came out sounding confident, but something deep in her chest did a strange, sickening sort of flip. This really wasn’t the way she’d imagined it happening. Getting married. But, as he’d rightly pointed out, this wasn’t meant to be a romantic event, it was a business transaction and should be treated as such. There was no room for any kind of emotional attachment. She’d make sure her real wedding, to the guy who loved and cherished her, was a big, exciting affair, with all her friends and family present. That one would be a cause for a true celebration. She just needed to keep that in mind when she signed the register. True love would come later in her life, when she finally had the time and energy to consider it a possibility.

  ‘Okay, good. I’ll let you know the details as soon as I’ve set it up. I’ll need some personal documents from you which I’ll swing by and pick up tomorrow, if that works for you?’

  ‘N-no problem,’ she stuttered, feeling suddenly as though her life was running away from her a little.

  It’s not surprising; you’re getting married in a month.

  A shiver of nerves tickled down her spine.

  There was a lot to sort out before then, not least accepting the university place for Domino and finding a full-time carer for her mum, as well as giving notice at the gastro pub and hiring someone to cover her shifts at the café.

  The mere thought of all the work and organisation ahead of her was exhausting.

  This is for the family, she reminded herself as panic threatened to engulf her. And it’s only temporary.

  In a year’s time her life would have taken on a whole new shape. She was doing this for all the right reasons and once she and Xavier were divorced she’d be free to fall in love and get married for real.

  With that thought in mind, she told Xavier goodbye and hung up.

  Trying to ignore the now almost overwhelming wave of nerves, she turned off all the lights in the café, hid a yawn behind her hand and trudged up the narrow staircase to the flat, first to check that her mother didn’t need anything, then to spend the next hour or so planning how best to kick-start the beginning of her brand-new life.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Scrabble—choose your words carefully.

  THEIR WEDDING DAY was glorious. At least the weather was, with the sun pouring in on them through the large picture widows of the register office as they stood at the desk reciting the lines they were asked to say.

  The huge room, with its rows of chairs facing the desk, was eerily empty except for Xavier and Soli, the registrar, Xavier’s friend Russell—the only friend he’d confided in and who had drawn up the contracts in his other role as a solicitor—and one other witness, who was a complete stranger to them all. Xavier had approached him outside on the street,
pretending that their second witness had been delayed in traffic, and offered him a wad of cash for half an hour of his time.

  Glancing around the room, he remembered all too well the last time he’d been in a place like this as echoes of a clawing sense of shame and dread pricked at his skin. He’d promised himself he’d never set foot in a register office again and hadn’t attended a wedding since his own disastrous debacle. He’d actually intended to avoid them for the rest of his life, if at all possible.

  But he hadn’t counted on his Aunt Faith’s iron-like will.

  So here he was again.

  At least this time the bride had turned up and actually married him.

  Well, you got what you wanted, Aunty. I hope you’re happy now.

  Soli, to her credit, didn’t say a thing about the lack of guests or the stranger signing the marriage register beneath her name. In fact, she’d seemed more than happy to let him deal with all the arrangements and go along with whatever he’d asked her to do. She’d told him it had meant she’d been able to focus fully on making the necessary arrangements for her family and the café before she came to live with him. Apparently her sister was off to live in Oxford over the summer to earn rent money at a job she’d found there before her first year began and her mother now had a full-time carer living in the flat with her. All thanks to his money.

  Not that he resented it. It meant he was able to achieve exactly what he wanted after all.

  In his experience, money always smoothed the way. It was the only thing he could ever really rely on.