I go completely still as a sharp ringing fills my ears, replaying his words over and over. He has to be fucking kidding. “My brother said it was fine for you to marry me?” The betrayal cuts deep. I can almost picture it: Declan and Oliver discussing my future.
“Yes.”
I close my eyes and rub my temples, feeling a headache coming on. What exactly had Declan told him? That I was desperate enough for money? Or maybe it’s connected toDeclan’s upcoming move; this is his way to take care of me while he’s gone.
I drop my hands and look at him. “Declan isn’t my father, Oliver. He doesn’t get to decide for me.”
“I understand that, but he’s my best friend.”
“Yes, I’m well aware.”
I turn to the table to continue cleaning, needing something to distract me. Part of me wants to throw him out, but another part wonders what kind of money he’s talking about. I spray down the table and start wiping it.
“It’s not a real marriage. It would be for a short time,” he says, watching me. He shifts, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can you please stop cleaning and just listen?”
A fake marriage? Is that supposed to make his proposition less insulting? More tempting? I’m not sure which is worse.
“No.” My hands need to stay busy while I process what he’s asking. “I’m not marrying you, Oliver. Please leave.”
For a moment, there’s nothing but silence, then I hear his voice, softer, almost pleading. “Come on, Karley.”
I swear there’s a break in his voice, and it makes me hesitate. I close my eyes, drop the cloth, and then slowly sit down in the chair next to him, facing him directly.
“You need to explain why. You can’t just show up at my workplace and demand I marry you.”
“Do you know the Warne Gallery on West 24th Street?” He leans forward slightly, his voice low, like he’s sharing a secret.
Of course, I know it. Everyone in the art world knows it.
I nod. “Yes.”
His eyes are intense. I feel my heart flutter under his gaze.
“The owner, Dan Warne, is finally selling it.”
I wait, sensing there’s more. “I want to buy it, but the owner won’t sell it to me. Or to Liam.”
Liam. The guy’s a jerk. I saw him once at one of Oliver’s gallery parties, trying to flirt with Jemima just to rile up his brother Harvey.
“Why won’t he sell it to you?”
“He will only hand it over to a married couple. He wants to make sure it’s in a good family’s hands.”
“And that’s where I come in?” His plan leaves me somewhere between insulted and suspicious.
“Yes.”
This is ludicrous. A fake marriage, legal documents, lying to Warne. All the complications that would follow. “I want to help you, Oliver, but you’ll have to just buy another gallery. I’m not doing this.” I sigh and stand up, but as I move to walk away, he catches my wrist. A shiver runs down my spine, starting at the point where his fingers touch my skin and radiating through my entire body. I wish he’d stop touching me because it’s messing with my head.
“It’s not just for me. Let me explain.”
The sad look in his eyes makes me reluctantly sit back down, and he lets go of my wrist. Immediately I miss his touch.
“It’s for my mom,” he says, and my heart softens.
His mom is like a second mother to me. “Your mom’s retired. She doesn’t need a gallery. I thought she was busy with her school?”
“It’s to display her students’ work,” he says quietly. He’s nervous admitting that? But why…because I’m one of those students?
