Her Conditions

Roman felt the phantom heat of her skin long after their fingers parted. He slid the manila folder across the mahogany expanse of his desk, securing the document that bound them together. Nora stood before him. She offered a tight, polite smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Thorne."

Roman caught the subtle tremor vibrating beneath her words. Fear. It made perfect sense. She had just signed away six months of her life to a virtual stranger. Yet, as his gaze swept over her, pity was the last thing on his mind. The oversized, drab garments she wore did nothing to hide the stark reality of her body. The hideous fabric clung just enough to highlight the curve of her hips and the heavy weight of her breasts. He remembered the taste of her skin, the exact shape of her breasts in his hands last night. A primal, heavy heat coiled deep in his gut.

God, she was a spectacular woman. A smirk played on his lips.

"What happens next?" she asked. She smoothed her hands down the front of her awful dress, chasing imaginary creases.

"Let's celebrate first," Roman said.

He walked behind his desk and pressed the intercom button. Mrs. Higgins answered on the first ring.

"Bring a bottle of champagne and two glasses, please," he instructed.

He released the button and turned his full attention back to his new wife. Her bright green eyes darted around the spacious office. The fierce determination that drove her to sign the papers moments ago had vanished. Uncertainty took its place.

"It’s just six months, right?" she asked.

A low chuckle escaped his chest. "Yes, six months, and we’re done." He gestured toward the plush leather chairs positioned across from his desk. "Have a seat."

She ignored the chairs and retreated to the couch near the window, putting distance between them.

"How do you intend to help my photography business in six months?" she asked.

Roman leaned against the edge of his desk. He crossed his ankles, projecting absolute control. "I’m a very wealthy man, dear Nora. Six months is more than enough time to make you a household name." Pride laced his tone. He thought of his brother Dante. He could not wait to see Dante's face when he dropped this news. Jude, his lawyer, would lose his damn mind too.

The heavy oak door swung open. Mrs. Higgins stepped into the room carrying a silver tray. A chilled bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes rested on top. She offered Nora a polite nod, set the tray on the glass coffee table, and slipped out without a single word.

Roman popped the cork. The sharp sound echoed off the walls. He poured the bubbling golden liquid, handed a glass to Nora, and kept one for himself.

"To us," he said.

Nora offered a small smile and clinked her glass against his. The crystal rang clear. "You should have a mini-fridge in here."

Roman paused with the glass halfway to his mouth. "What?"

"A mini-fridge," she repeated. "You know. So you could keep drinks here for convenience. Instead of having your secretary carry them in."

"I’m not an alcoholic."

Color rushed to her face. Her cheeks turned a bright, furious pink. "I wasn't saying you were. It’s just practical... you know what? Forget it." She pressed her lips together into a thin line.

Roman bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud. The sour expression on her face amused him immensely. She was not going to be a passive, quiet wife. She had fire. She was going to be a handful, and he looked forward to every second of it.

"I see your point," he conceded. "I’ll consider it."

Her eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise. "Oh. Alright."

She took a sip of her champagne. The bubbles seemed to give her a burst of courage. She set the half-empty glass back on the tray and stood up.

"I should go home now," she announced. "Let me know when you need me."

Roman lowered his glass. His eyes narrowed. "When I need you?"

"To... to be your wife," she stammered. The pink flush returned to her face.

"But you are my wife," Roman pointed out. He set his glass down next to hers. He stepped closer. The undeniable pull of attraction tugged at him. He tracked the rise and fall of her chest. Her erratic breathing gave away her nerves. He wanted to cross the remaining distance, grab her waist, and kiss the confusion right off her face.

Nora took a half-step back. "Yes, I know. But only on paper. This isn’t a serious marriage. You need me for publicity. Just send me a text or call when I need to play the role."

Roman folded his arms across his broad chest. "Maybe you should read the contract you just signed."

She blinked. "What do you mean?"

"You’re required to act as my wife both publicly and privately."

"But you didn’t say that."

Roman let out a harsh sigh. "That’s what a marriage of convenience entails. You will act like my wife for the next six months. That includes living with me."

Her green eyes widened in absolute horror.

He had not needed to include the cohabitation clause. He could have easily staged photos, hired paparazzi, and kept her in a separate apartment across town. But the idea of her living in his massive, empty house appealed to him. Having her close. Smelling her perfume in his halls. The prospect of sharing a bed with her again sparked a surge of raw heat straight to his groin.

"I don’t agree with that," Nora stated. Her voice rang with newfound firmness. "I don’t want to live with you."

Roman’s jaw tightened. "But you’ve signed already."

"Then I’ll revoke it." She mirrored his stance, crossing her arms over her chest in defiance.

Roman turned away and strolled back to his leather chair. He took his time sitting down, letting the silence stretch. "In that case, you’ll owe me ten million dollars for breaching the contract."

"Ten million?" Her voice cracked. Disbelief warped her features. A deep frown formed between her brows. "That’s ridiculous."

It was a total bluff. Jude had not included a specific financial penalty for backing out. But Roman relished the power play. He watched her panic. When she first walked into his office today, his anger over Bryce's betrayal had nearly consumed him. Finding out she divorced that bastard had been a massive relief. He had masked his triumph well. He had no intention of letting her slip through his fingers now. Not after the explosive, raw sex they shared at the hotel yesterday. He made a mental note to call Jude the second she left the room. He would have the ten million dollar penalty drafted and inserted into a revised copy immediately.

"Well, sorry. That's the deal," Roman said. He offered a casual shrug.

Nora marched forward. She stopped just inches from his desk. If he didn't know her better, he might have been intimidated by the sheer fury radiating from her. "I want to renegotiate the terms. I’d like to add some conditions."

"Like what?"

"Like not living together. I want to stay where I am. You can call me when you need me." A slight tremor returned to her voice, betraying her brave front.

Roman stood up. He loomed over the desk. Why was she fighting this so hard? Living with him came with luxury, security, and absolute comfort.

"And the reporters?" he asked.

Confusion masked her features. "Reporters? What about them?"

"Once I make the announcement, the media will hunt you down. What will you do when they swarm your apartment building? They will camp on your doorstep. They will dig into your trash. How long until they figure out this marriage is a facade because we live in different zip codes?"

Nora bit her lower lip. Her teeth sank deep into the soft flesh. Roman watched the movement, half expecting her to draw blood.

"I’ll be discreet," she argued. "When I was married to Bryce, I managed to stay out of the media until I absolutely had to make an appearance."

Her voice wobbled on Bryce's name. Roman hated hearing it on her lips.

"Bryce doesn’t have my level of wealth," Roman stated coldly. He watched the truth of his words hit her. "He is small time. I am not. When this news breaks, trust me, you will not be able to handle the onslaught alone. You need my security. You need my walls."

Silence stretched between them. Nora stared at the floor. The fight drained out of her posture.

"Fine," she muttered. She looked back up, her green eyes flashing. "But I still want to add a few conditions."

Roman chuckled. She was relentless. "What else?"

"If I do stay with you, there will be no... uh... intimacy between us." She broke eye contact and stared at the bookshelf behind him.

Roman stepped out from behind the desk. He closed the distance between them. "Okay. But why do you seem so nervous about sex?"

Nora took a quick step backward.

"It's not like we haven't done that before," Roman continued. He let his voice drop an octave. He remembered the slick heat of her, the way she screamed his name into the hotel pillows.

She chewed on her lip again. "I’m not nervous." The words rushed out too fast.

"Doesn’t seem that way," he teased. He took another step forward. He loved watching her squirm. The blatant lie amused him.

She scrambled another step back. "If that’s all, I’ll take my leave now." She smoothed her hideous dress once more, fighting to regain her composure.

"And go where?"

"Home." She gripped the strap of her bag. "I need to pack my things. I have to prepare myself. I'll be at your house tomorrow. Just send me the address."

Roman let out a harsh laugh. "You think you can just go back to your old life? Walk down the street like a normal citizen? You’re now Mrs. Thorne. You are my wife. You will act accordingly."

A fresh blush stained her cheeks. "I can’t just leave without informing my aunt."

Roman paused. "Your aunt?"

"I live with her," Nora said, her blush deepening.

"Perfect." Roman lunged forward. He clamped a firm hand onto her waist, his fingers digging into the soft curve of her hip. He stopped her retreat cold. "You’ll introduce me to your family."

Nora gasped. Her eyes blew wide. Roman felt the sudden hitch in her breathing. He did not know if it was his touch or the threat of meeting her family that caused the panicked reaction.

"You can’t come with me—I—"

"Oh, yes, I can," Roman interrupted. He tightened his grip. The fabric of her dress bunched in his fist. A fierce, sudden wave of possessiveness crashed through his chest. She was his. Contract or not, she belonged to him now. Bryce was history. "You’ll introduce your husband to your aunt. And then I’ll take you to my home."

Nora pushed against his chest. Her face flushed a dark, angry pink. "No, I can’t—"

Roman refused to hear another word of protest. He yanked her flush against his body, lowered his head, and captured her mouth, crushing his lips against hers.