Page 11 of The Temporary Bride

She swallows, and with a sinking feeling, I know I’m right.

I take a few steps toward her, closing the distance between us. Her brows draw together as she looks up at me, her hands still resting on the table.

“Are you seriously considering this?” she asks.

“Of course I am.”

She laughs, but it’s a brief, humorless sound. She knows I’m not joking, even if she’s trying to pretend that I am.

“Everything I’ve built hinges on this,” I say. “I’m not willing to throw it away.”

A flurry of emotions pass behind her eyes, more expression than I’ve ever seen showing through her mask. Her unflappable façade has a crack in it, giving me a glimpse of the shock that mirrors my own.

I drop my voice, stepping closer to her. “Chloe…”

She looks away, down at the table. “Since when are we on a first name basis?”

I tilt her chin up with my fingertips so that our gazes meet. If we’re going to have this discussion, I need her to look me in the eye.

“Give this a chance,” I say softly. “I don’t want it either, but you know we both need to go along with it.”

She shrugs me off, looking away. “Give me a break.”

“There’s a cost to this life we live. You know that as well as I do. If we want to maintain our⁠—”

“Just hire lawyers, Tristan,” Chloe snaps, her eyes flashing as she glares back at me. Those gray eyes are cold like steel and every bit as unyielding. “Fight it out in court.”

I shake my head. “If we fight it in court, whether we win or lose, we lose.”

Her lips press together in a thin line, and she sighs almost imperceptibly. She knows this. Everything I’m saying now is just a stark reminder of our predicament. I don’t need to convince her. She’s already aware of the stakes.

“It’s just three years,” I tell her. “It’s not like we’re going to be bound together forever. I’m not stuck in your life until we die. It’s three years, and then we can both do whatever we want.”

“I have no interest in being part of some sham marriage,” she mutters, her voice laced with bitterness.

“Who says it would be a sham?”

She scoffs. “Right, of course.”

“No,” I say firmly. “It’ll be real.”

Her eyes narrow, suspicion and disbelief warring in her gaze. “Sure, sure. You’ll sign the papers, all of that fluff, but it’ll still be plastic. Just for show.”

I shake my head. “I mean it. I wouldn’t be part of a false marriage. If I take vows, I’ll keep them.”

“Oh, really?” She folds her arms. “You won’t fuck another woman for three years?”

“No,” I say instantly, without hesitating. “I won’t. If I’m married to you—for as long as I’m married to you—I’ll never touch another woman.”

At that, I can see shock in her eyes, along with something else I can’t identify. The ironic suspicion is gone, though. She seems to be taking me at my word.

For a while, neither of us speaks. The only sound in the room is the gentle tick of the clock above the door.

Then she nods. Stiffly, reluctantly, as if each degree of her head’s inclination requires an internal struggle. “Fine.”

“Fine?” I echo, searching her expression for confirmation.

“I’ll do it,” she says, her voice clipped. “I’ll… I’ll marry you.”