Page 44 of Top Shelf

He huffs. “Priscilla chooses the music sometimes.”

I stare at him for three full seconds, then add another note: Priscilla is not a legal person.

His mouth actually twitches this time, and I realize that the stupid thing is, marking up the contract helps. The more ridiculous the margins get, the steadier my hands become. When I finally set the pen down, the folder looks less like a trap and more like something I’ve been involved in, however ridiculous.

Viktor studies the pages, then me.

“I want you to take time,” he says. “Read it, then show your lawyer. Talk to Carina or whoever you trust the most. I don’t need an answer today.”

I stare at him, because that might be the sexiest thing he’s said so far. He’s leaving a door open with no pressure to walk through. It makes this entire circus much harder to dismiss.

“I have patients,” I say, because I need a sentence that sounds ordinary. “Then a bank meeting.”

“I know.”

“And a lot of reasons to say no... But a very large, extremely concerning reason to consider saying yes.”

He nods slowly, eyes on mine. “I know.”

The air catches again, and I look away first.

“Leave the folder,” I say.

“Okay, and the ring?” His gaze drops to the box. “If you prefer, I can take it away with me.”

I should tell him to take it. I absolutely should fucking tell him to take it.

“Leave it, too.”

He nods and stands, and the office expands him. At my door, he turns back.

“Heidi.”

My fingers tighten around the edge of my desk. “Mm?”

“You would not be my weird little wife project.”

I take in his words, but don’t reply.

“I am asking for your help,” he adds. “And offering mine. Badly, maybe. But not because I think you need saving.”

Static rings in my ears with the possibilities he’s so genuinely offering me, and I nod. It’s all I can manage without accidentally showing him too much.

When he leaves, I sit in my office with a marked-up marriage contract, a diamond big enough to pay my rent for an entire year, and the unsettling knowledge that Viktor Karlsson appears to know me better than most people.

My hands scramble to pick up my phone, because there are moments in life when a woman needs time for careful reflection and to assess the long-term consequences of her choices. This is not one of them.

I text Carina first.

Me: emergency. conference room for lunch—no one is dead.

Then I message Zoe and Lulu to invite them, too. Then Nia, to ask her to video in.

Carina arrives first, because she can usually smell my panic through the walls of this place even without a deranged text. Zoe arrives right on time with her laptop under her arm. Lulu walks in a few minutes after with a to-go coffee she hands me without comment, and Nia appears on my phone in the middle of the conference table within seconds.

I explain Viktor’s offer as succinctly as I can, leave out the part where I taunted him about praise and sex, and wait for their reactions. They all remain silent, gaping at me in various states of horror.

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad!” I spread my arms wide. “It’s just a marriage!”