She tried to pretend otherwise, but Simon immediately threw her off balance again.
“What about sex?” he asked, taking a seat on the sofa, while she stood closer to Ian, who had his laptop on a table and was downloading the pictures.
Gail had been planning to cover this herself. She just hadn’t found the nerve. “What do you mean?” she asked, stalling while she formulated her response.
He held the club soda he’d poured himself. “You’ve told me that from this minute on I can’t drink a drop of alcohol. You’ve negotiated your price. And you’ve covered how we’ll make the marriage look real by leaking information and photographs to the press. You’ve even had Ian take the pictures you plan to start with.” He motioned to his manager. “He’ll be emailing them to you any minute. Don’t you think it’s time to address how we’re going to handle our marriage on the inside? I’m assuming I can’t cheat—”
“Of course not. That would endanger the whole campaign!” she broke in.
“So what am I supposed to do?” He slid one hand down his thigh as he shifted, adjusting the fit of the faded jeans he wore with a simple T-shirt and expensive-looking house shoes. “If we were talking about two months it might be different. But we’re talking about two years.”
Dressed in a standard business suit, since she considered this a business meeting, she fiddled with one of her buttons. “I realize that sounds like a long time.”
“Damn right,” he said. “An eternity. You’re not suggesting I go without, are you?”
Hoping he’d explain why her answer had to be what it was, Gail looked at Ian. But he merely glanced up from his computer and arched his eyebrows, implying that this one was all hers.
“Thanks for jumping in to break the bad news,” she grumbled.
He grinned for the first time. “It’s kind of funny to watch you flounder. I’ve never seen a grown woman turn so red.”
She grimaced. “With my coloring, it doesn’t take much.” Which hardly seemed fair, since the two of them were tanned to a perfect café au lait despite the fact that summer had ended two months ago.
Ian’s grin stretched wider. “I’m starting to like you, you know that? For someone who’s so uptight and controlling, you’re not bad.”
God, he made her sound like her father. She cringed at the militant image that presented. But she was her father’s daughter. She’d heard that before. She’d even inherited his freckles and strawberry-blond hair, both of which she hated as much as his intensity.
“I don’t care if you like me or not,” she said. But it wasn’t true. She was the worst kind of type A, worse than her father, because she was also a pleaser, which meant she’d work herself to death to meet everyone’s expectations, no matter how unreasonable they might be.
“Is there an answer in my near future?” Simon shook his drink, causing the ice to clink against the glass.
Lifting her chin, she addressed him herself. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I expect you to go two years without sex. That’s what the job requires.”
He took another drink of his club soda as if this didn’t bother him, but a subtle tightening around the mouth and eyes said otherwise. “So you’ll be my wife in name and pocketbook only.”
“Basically. Although I’ll be signing a prenup, so I’ll have enough to make you look generous and in love, but no access to your millions. You’ll pay for our wedding rings and the kind of wardrobe your wife should have. The sale of the pictures will cover my contract.”
She got the impression he was circling, searching for vulnerability, like a buzzard.
“A rock on your finger and a few clothes. That’s all you’ll need from me to get you through the next two years?”
“That and some privacy. Once I’m Mrs. O’Neal, my business should recover on its own. I say we go our separate ways behind closed doors, don’t you?” How else would they survive suddenly being shackled to each other, two people who were so opposite and ill-suited?
“For the most part…yes.”
She’d expected him to be more adamant that she keep her distance whenever possible. He’d had no interest in her on a personal level before. In the past year, neither had he listened to anything she’d told him professionally, despite paying a hefty monthly retainer for her guidance and advice. He was only listening now because he’d bottomed out.
“We’ll need personal space and time alone,” she went on. “Considering the number of mansions you own, having our own space shouldn’t be a problem.” There was definitely room enough for two at his twenty-five-thousand-square-foot home in Belize, for instance. Room enough for her to handle her business remotely, with Serge’s and Josh’s help; it would grow by leaps and bounds as soon as word of their union got out. Simon could…read scripts or whatever he did when he wasn’t shooting a movie. “We should live a few weeks here and a few weeks there—preferably out of the country as much as possible. That’ll help us keep ahead of the paparazzi, control which details get out.”
He pursed his lips. “You won’t miss sex? It won’t be hard for you to sleep alone for two years?”
She gestured carelessly. “I’ll miss it, but…my world doesn’t revolve around getting lucky. I’m a mature adult. I can delay gratification until our marriage is over.”
If he got her hint that he should be able to do the same, he didn’t let it deter him, didn’t act the least bit chastised or embarrassed. “And if I feel more strongly about not having to go so long?”
She curled her fingernails into her palms. “I’m afraid you—you don’t have any choice. It’s the only way this will work.”
“You could change your mind.”
That was what he’d been getting at all along. Gail’s anxiety rose until the muscles in her back felt like rubber bands twisted to maximum torque. “I’m sorry. That’s not going to happen.”
He jiggled one knee, an obvious sign of agitation. She’d seen him do it before when he was on edge or growing impatient—or anytime he had to sit still for too long. “What if I let you keep the ring? A big diamond. One of your choosing.”
Of course he’d think he could buy anything he wanted. He was richer than God. And every decision they’d arrived at so far had been reached through negotiation. But he had to understand that this was different. She had her limits. “I won’t trade sex for money.”