Page 6 of Marriage Masquerade
“I can’t renew it at this stage. I need to apply for a new one. And that will take at least several weeks. Maybe longer. I don’t know where the United States stands with quotas from Greece. I’ve had that visa for so long I don’t even remember all I had to go through to get it initially. And who knows how much more red tape there is now in that massive bureaucracy?”
“Can’t Allessandros help? Doesn’t he have some pull in Washington?”
Nikos' cousin, Allessandros Petropoulos, visited the United States for several months every year. His wife was originally from Washington, D.C., and now his family split their time between their two homes.
“I called him as soon as I found out. He’s looking into it. But unless something comes up quickly, it’ll be too late. I’m scheduled to depart next Friday.”
Gemma leaned against the doorjamb and stared at him, her mind whirling as she wrestled with the problem. At the moment, the challenge reminded her of countless other times when they had discussed impossible situations. This was serious.
“I don’t know what to say. I know nothing about immigration laws and procedures.”
“I believe I’ve come up with the perfect solution,” he said easily.
Nikos looked just like he did when making a huge coup in business—arrogantly confident, supremely assured, and a bit like the cat who swallowed the canary.
“Marry me,” Nikos said.
“What?”
The room seemed to whirl around, then dimmed. For a moment, Gemma thought she might faint. Only the pull of Nikos' dark eyes held her, anchored her.
Was she hallucinating? Had he just asked her tomarryhim?
He stood close enough she could see the depth in his eyes, notice the fine lines that radiated from the corners.
“At least consider it before raising objections,” he said. “I haven’t worked out all the details—we can do that together. But I believe this will work. You wouldn’t be an unmarried mother and I’d make sure you didn’t go through this pregnancy alone. You’d be my wife until I get permanent residency. Longer if it works out. We can each provide the other something we need.”
She shook her head, unable to tear her gaze from his. Her heart pounded, and she tried to think. But her emotions threatened to overwhelm her. Nikos wanted tomarryher? As in kisses and living together and—
“It’s the perfect answer,” Nikos said. “You wouldn’t have to quit your job. You can continue to work as long as you feel like it.”
“And after? When the baby is born and you have your residency, then what?”
Amazed that her voice sounded so normal, Gemma still leaned against the doorjamb.
“We’ll see how things go. We can get a quiet divorce. I’ll make sure you are adequately situated financially.”
“I don’t need your money,” she said hotly.
Did he think he could buy a wife? That she was so desperate she’d consider such a move?
“Fine, then. I’ll establish a small trust for the child.”
“It won’t work,” she said.
The last thing she wanted to do was depend on a man for anything. Too much could go wrong with this idea. Just thinking about it had her heart racing, her knees wobbling. She couldn’t possibly consider marrying Nikos.
She didn’t possess the same level of sophistication as the women he usually dated. And before much longer, she’d be as big as a house. Was he seriously proposing that she become his wife to save him from deportation?
There must be fifty thousand women in New York City alone who would jump at the opportunity.
“Why me? Why marriage?”
“A marriage of convenience is not unheard of,” he replied. “People marry for expediency all the time. It’s not at all uncommon to find arranged marriages throughout Greece. Often the families of the couple arrange the alliance.
A marriage based on mutual respect and common interest will work, Gemma. On paper we’ll be married, and in reality little will change. You’ll continue to work as my personal assistant as long as you can. After the baby is born, we’ll separate, sever the legal tie. But I’ll keep your job for you.”
“You can’t marry merely because you don’t have a current visa,” she protested, dazed at the thought.