Page 8 of Marriage Masquerade
“If I get Elise to reschedule some of next week’s appointments, we’ll have time to get married and notify Immigration before Friday. I’ll have Mannering get to work on everything first thing on Monday.” He looked up. “Does that suit you?”
“I’m not sure this is such a good idea.”
There was no way she could marry Nikos Petropoulos. Why was she even discussing the matter?
His gaze caught hers, but he kept silent, as if the sheer force of his personality could convince her. The effect almost knocked what little sense Gemma possessed right out of her head. He looked incredibly assured, determined, sexy.
Sexy?
Shewaslosing her mind. The last thing she wanted was involvement with another man. She’d learned that lesson well. This had to be a case of spiking hormones.
He studied her for another moment.
“At least I know up front you’re not marrying me for my money or with some false declarations of my undying love. That will save a lot of heartbreak later.”
“I never said I’d marry you at all,” she protested.
How like the man to just declare what he wanted and assume she’d fall in with his plans. Swallowing hard, she tried to focus on the possibility. It proved impossible.
“So say it and end the suspense. I don’t have a lot of time here, Gemma.”
She swallowed again and opened her mouth. Then shut it. Sanity took over. She needed some time to consider his outrageous idea, no matter how short he was on the commodity.
“I need to think this through,” she said.
Would he kiss her as her husband? Expect more from her than she could give? Or would it be a paper marriage only? Just an appeasement for the US Immigration Department?
And a way to save face for her?
That alone should have her leaping at the chance.
He nodded. “I can understand that. Until Monday, then.”
Gemma hesitated, wishing he’d say something else, something that gave her a clue what would truly be their best course. But he seemed to have accepted her request and already turned his attention elsewhere as he picked up the spreadsheet in front of him and began to review the numbers.
Gemma left, still feeling dazed. She couldn’t concentrate on anything except the echo of Nikos' words,Marry me.
Chapter Two
Gemma slept very little that night. She tossed and turned, tried to consider all the ramifications of marrying her boss compared to those of not marrying him. It was a futile endeavor. She couldn’t keep a coherent thought straight for more than ten seconds. Her thoughts spun.
She had been determined to move for weeks, ever since she had finally admitted to herself that James would do nothing to help her. She’d started packing, had lined up a moving company, told her roommate she’d be gone by the end of the month.
Now she was supposed to consider an alternative.
She tried to envision life as the wife of Nikos Petropoulos, but simply couldn’t. She didn’t have the background or training to move in his exalted circles. Couldn’t imagine living with him away from the office. Exchanging personal information.
Yet the thought was tantalizing. He’d fascinated her for years.
She wouldn’t expect Nikos to take on the role of doting father. But his willingness to let others believe the child was his touched her.
She wouldn’t mind the rest—later. Divorced mothers were everywhere. When it came time, she could manage that. At least she thought she could.
And there was always California.
But was she being fair to Nikos? She’d reap far more from this temporary marriage than he would. He could put up with the inconvenience of waiting a few weeks while a new visa was being processed. Did he have to marry? Weren’t there other better alternatives for him?
Finally, giving in to her restlessness, she rose and took a long shower. Dressed in faded jeans and a snug top, she brushed her hair until it shone, then pulled it back into her normally neat ponytail. Dressed for a day at home, she headed for the kitchen.