Proposals (3 page)

There was a slightly amused edge as he said
that last sentence and I wondered if that was some kind of snub.
But I shrugged it off mentally - maybe he really meant it, maybe
the people in his world were all boring and he just wanted to be
around someone fun and interesting for a while, and that someone
was me! I couldn't entirely convince myself of that, but I felt
something common between us. Loneliness can sniff out a fellow
sufferer easily.

"You don't have to do this, you know. I don't
need rides and phone calls…"

"I know," he said, "But indulge me for a bit.
Why are you so averse to rides and phone calls? Got a boyfriend or
something?"

I smiled, and shook my head no. Dating in the
city was a complex game, and one I didn't have the stomach for,
yet. A few quick flings and breakups had made me cynical of men and
the games they played.

"You're clearly not a nun," he mused, "Tell
me about your work, what's it like being a receptionist?"

I'd meant to shrug off the question with a
cool, "It's ok," but the genuine interest in his voice caught me
off-guard. It had been a while since a stranger had shown any
curiosity about my life.

Before I could stop myself, I was telling him
what I really thought about my job - how it was just a way to kill
time before I figured out what to do, before I summoned up the
courage to apply to college again. I didn't know if I could even do
college again, whether the student loans would be worth taking out
in this bad economy. But I just couldn't make decisions like that
yet, I couldn't turn my life upside down again.

"And when was the last time you turned your
life upside down?" His voice was gentle and sympathetic.

I told him about my mother's illness, how
she'd passed away, and the hollowness I felt. It had been
years…

His hand was on mine, and he said softly,
"You can never fill that void."

I remembered reading about his grandfather's
recent death and blinked away my tears, feeling selfish for talking
about my own sorrows. "I'm sorry about your grandfather," I
said.

He nodded, and asked with a wry smile, "So,
you finally Google'd me?"

I laughed, a bit embarrassed, but what did he
expect? "Yes. And they didn't have much to say."

"What did they say?"

"Well, they said your grandfather, William
Reinehart, passed away ten months ago. You were orphaned when you
were two years old, and your grandpa raised you himself. You went
to college and worked your way up Reinehart Industries after you
graduated."

Brad was smiling and nodding. "He was a
religious man. Grandpa didn't believe in handouts, and he was
adamant from the beginning that I needed to pull my own weight. He
made it clear I would get nothing if I didn't meet his
expectations."

I thought I saw a cloud pass over his face
briefly. It couldn't have been easy. His Grandpa sounded like a
demanding man - threatening to withhold an inheritance didn't seem
like a nice thing to do, but I said nothing. Maybe the old man had
seen too many rich kids become degenerates and wanted Brad to be a
nice guy.

I felt the limo draw to a stop, and Brad
said, "We're here."

Chapter Four

The door was opened for me, and I stepped
out, wondering where we were. I'd been so focused on the
conversation I hadn't kept track of where we were going, and I
hoped I was dressed appropriately.

I barely had time to smooth my skirt and
glance around, noticing that we were beside the river, when Brad
took my arm and led me inside. We walked through a covered
passageway, up some kind of plank, and then suddenly we were in the
room. I almost gasped out loud at the view, as Brad murmured
something to the hostess and we were led to a table beside the
window.

This was some kind of restaurant, but it
seemed to be a barge rather than a building, and was clearly
floating on the water. We were directly under the Brooklyn Bridge,
and on the other side of the river, the buildings of Manhattan
stretched across the horizon. Though I've lived in New York for a
while now, the view from our table took my breath away. The river
sparkled in the sunlight, and the skyscrapers on the other bank
glinted and shimmered.

The restaurant wasn't too busy at this hour,
and there were no other customers sitting near our table. We were
handed menus as the waitress poured us water and asked us if we'd
like to order coffee first.

Brad and I both ordered coffees immediately,
and took our time browsing through the menu. The choice of foods
was quite dizzying - the appetizers included foie gras, lobster
bisque and caviar. I finally settled on smoked rainbow trout for my
appetizer, and Belgian Six Grain Waffles for my main. Brad ordered
a salad and a lobster omelet.

We were silent for a few minutes, waiting for
our food. Our cappuccinos arrived, and we sipped them slowly,
enjoying the view. I wanted to ask Brad if he came here often, but
I didn't want any clichés exiting my mouth, so I merely remarked
that the view was gorgeous.

"Yes," Brad smiled thinly, "And it's better
with nice company."

Once again, I wondered why he needed to bring
me here as his "company". Surely he was one of those eligible
bachelors who had no shortage of girls…

"I wish I could paint this," I sighed.

"Can you paint?"

"No," I laughed, "I have no idea how! But I
love looking at other people's work."

"Who do you like?"

"Well, Impressionist artists are amazing, I
love the dabbled color. And I think the Dutch and Renaissance art's
gorgeous, but I don't really understand modern art."

Brad nodded. "I don't understand art too much
myself. But I'm often dragged to galleries and such, and Grandpa
had some pieces you might like to see."

I hoped he didn't mean that seriously. I
should've realized that he owned some of the originals I'd only
admired in books so far, but I hadn't meant to impose.

Our food arrived, distracting me, and my eyes
sparkled with joy. I love food, but my meager salary never allowed
me to eat in places like this. I baked once in a while, but of
course I didn't have the skills to prepare this kind of feast!

My smoked trout was gorgeous, and came with
trout caviar sauce, quail egg and baby cress. The sharp flavors of
horseradish mingled with the smoky fish and I almost groaned out
loud with joy.

The waffles were served almost as soon as I'd
finished my appetizer. They came with bruleed bananas, caramelized
pecans and whipped cream. Every bite was amazing, and I savored the
taste.

"How is it?" Brad asked, with a knowing
smile.

I merely nodded and smiled back. "I adore a
slow breakfast," I said, mentally noting that I rarely went out for
it, though.

"What do you normally have?"

"Pancakes. I make them at home sometimes -
I've done plain, vanilla and blueberry, chocolate and raisin. I
love a sweet start." I wondered if I sounded like a glutton. "How
about you?"

"I don't think I enjoy breakfast as much as
you do," he said, sounding amused.

"Yes, I adore food," I agreed. "When my
mother was sick, I learnt to bake and cook. I don't cook at home
too often nowadays, but I love a well-prepared meal. Do you
cook?"

He shook his head. "I'm sure I can make some
pasta and maybe some eggs if I need to, but I have a full-time chef
to do that for me these days."

Ah, yes. Of course. His life would be
ridiculously different from mine. I wondered what I'd do with a
full-time chef.

I thought the conversation would stall, now
that our meal was almost over, but Brad asked me if I had any plans
for the weekend.

"Not really," I replied, "How about you?"

"I have to go Paris to talk with my designer
about Zenith." I nodded, as if flying to Paris for the weekend was
normal in my world too.

"Do you like to travel?" he asked.

I felt ashamed to not be able to pretend I
was an experienced traveler. "I haven't really gone very far," I
admitted ruefully. "I've always wanted to visit Paris, though."

"Why is that?"

"Well, it just looks so romantic, and I've
heard so much about it."

He nodded. "I think you'd really enjoy it.
And of course you'd love the museums, since you like art."

I smiled and nodded. I hadn't thought of
travel recently. My days had been filled with work, looking for new
jobs, and trying to keep my bills paid.

I'd finished my waffles, but Brad had a few
bites left of his meal, so the wait staff didn't approach us.

Brad took a deep breath and said, "Alexis, I
have something to ask you. This will come as a shock, but will you
marry me?"

Chapter Five

Just when I thought the date couldn't get any
stranger, Brad dropped that bomb.

I stared at him in surprise, not sure how to
react. Was this a joke? But he looked serious, his face was
impassive and dressed in his dark suit he looked businesslike and
earnest.

"What do you mean?" I asked gingerly,
wondering what was going on.

Brad fiddled with his food and said, "It's
not what you think or what I'd hoped for really, when I imagined
getting married. A condition of Grandpa's will is that I have to
get married within a year of his death, and stay married for at
least a year. It's been ten months since he's passed away, and I
don't have much time left."

"Wow, he really was a family man, wasn't he?"
I asked, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

Brad smiled wryly. "Grandpa wanted to make
sure I'd be a good, honest, family man too, but I haven't had time
for that. Think of this as a business proposition - if you marry
me, you can quit your job and have fun for a bit. After a year,
we'll get divorced and you'll get a cool million in the settlement.
If we don't last a year, you'll get paid minimum wage for the time
you stayed with me, but you don't get the million, because I need
to stay married for a year."

I turned his words over in my mind. A cool
million. Have fun for a bit. Stay married for a year.

"What's the catch?" I wondered how far I'd go
for a million…

He looked at me seriously. "I'm not sure
about the catch. You'd have to stay with me, and of course, I'd
like to enjoy the pleasure of your company. Hopefully we'll have
fun together, but we can pretty much do whatever we like during the
day, as long as we stay married for one year."

I stared back, wondering what life in a sham
marriage would be like.

"What happens if you don't get married?" I
asked finally.

Brad winced. "The estate goes over to a
distant cousin of mine. These terms are hushed and nobody but me
and a few of my close advisors - including George Neilson, your
boss - knows about the marriage requirement."

"So what took you so long to find someone?
I'd have thought you'd take the will more seriously!" I certainly
would have, if I stood to lose billions of dollars, but I didn't
say this last bit out loud.

Brad nodded, acknowledging my question. "Yes.
But I was so busy trying to keep the company on track. I had a
rough start, and the share price dropped initially - I had to keep
investors happy and prove to the board that I could run the
company."

"And now you're ready to get married. So, why
me? Why not a fellow heiress, or a model or an actress? I'm sure
you've got lots of girls hounding you." I finally voiced the
question that bugged me the most.

"A million isn't enough for an heiress." The
honest answer stung, but I had asked. "And a starlet or model will
probably want publicity, as well as more money."

I thought a million was a lot of money, but
clearly it wasn't, to a lot of girls. I wondered if I should act
outraged, as if I was worth so much more, but it was too late now,
and I couldn't really be bothered - a million dollars would make a
big difference in my life, I'd probably go to college again, and
maybe I'd start my own small business.

I must've looked a bit hurt because Brad
touched my hand and said, "And I like you. You're fun, intelligent
and," he winked knowingly, "You're great in bed. Well, you're great
on tables. And of course, you're beautiful and you love food."

It wasn't exactly the proposal of my dreams
and he wasn't professing undying love. But he was offering me a
million dollars, the chance to turn my life around, and a few
lukewarm compliments. I could pay off my debts and do something
with my life instead of slaving away at meaningless jobs that I
hated - how could I say no?

We sat silently for a few moments, glancing
at each others' eyes and looking away, trying to judge what the
other was thinking.

The waitress came by to see if we needed
anything; Brad ordered freshly squeezed orange juice, and I ordered
a mango smoothie.

I no longer wondered if the whole thing was a
joke; Brad looked far too serious and contemplative. But I'd be a
glorified mistress… I remembered my old college friends, all of us
with grand dreams. I hadn't kept in touch with them; was I the only
one who'd been crushed by life? Brad was offering me a second
chance, that rare thing I never thought I'd get. How could I say
no?

When our drinks arrived, I finally said, "I'm
tempted to say yes. But I've known you for two days, and we've only
talked for a few minutes. What if we can't stand each other for a
year? We'd both lose out."

"We've both got a lot to gain and a lot to
lose. You can be free of your debts and go to college again, I'll
be travelling a bit so you can see the world and have fun. You're
too old for your age, you need to have some fun."

I stayed silent, and finally Brad finished
his meal and said, "Here's another option. I'm going to Paris
tomorrow - why don't you come with me? We'll have a few days
together and be able to take a better guess at whether we can make
it for a year or not. If things don't work out in Paris, we can
walk away."