The Russian Billionaire’s Secret(93)
“Did you really put on that sappy cowboy face to try to pick me up? Jessie, I wouldn't even throw you the dead bone of pity sex. So you can cut it out.”
“Sweetheart, as much as I'm sure that you'd be a wildcat in the bed and I'd never forget you, I don't give puppy dog eyes to any woman. It's them that come begging for my attention. If you really want to know what's wrong, my Uncle George died last week and I finally received a copy of the will today. It's not officially going to be read until next month, but it confirmed what I always thought about Uncle George.”
“And what's that?”
“He hates me.”
“What? Did he write you out of the will?”
“Might as well have. He set some very demanding conditions and I don't think it should be legal to do that. What right does he have to tell me what to do with my life?”
“None, but then again you aren't exactly entitled to the money either.”
“It isn't just money at stake here sweetheart. It's the whole damn estate of my family. It usually passes from eldest son to eldest son, but Uncle George didn't have any children of his own. His wife couldn't have children due to a long drawn out sickness. I'm the eldest son in my family. The whole damn thing was supposed to be mine. By the time I was born, they already knew they couldn't have kids.”
“What are these conditions that are so horrible? Do you have to take over his cult or marry his favorite cow?”
“Ha ha ha,” Jessie spat. “He expects me to get married.”
“Is that so uncommon in traditional families?”
“No, but..”
“You just don't want to admit that you've slept your way through most of your options and even then, they weren't the sort of women you'd want to take home to your mama at the ranch.”
“I wouldn't have taken any of those women anywhere near my family.”
“So, I guess you can just kiss that estate goodbye. Maybe if you're a really good kisser, it'll stay on one more night to make things easier for you.”
“Are you crazy? I'll order a bride from Russia or something before I do that.”
“You really think that money can solve all your problems, don't you?”
“No, but it can solve this one. You know the old saying that you've got to spend money to make money.”
“So you're going to marry a hooker?”
“No, I'm going to find a respectable woman who has a mind for business.”
“No respectable woman in her right mind would agree to marry you.”
“Not even for a million dollars?”
“Oh, so by a mind for business, you met a gold digger. I'm catching on now, but what is said to keep said gold digger from robbing you blind during the divorce proceedings? I know you're not going to stay hitched to one woman forever.”
“It's called a prenuptial agreement, sweetheart.”
“You have all the answers, don't you?” Debbie laughed.
She would have felt sorry for most people in this predicament. If it was the normal story of I haven't found the right person or my true love broke my heart, she would have given him a tissue. This was Jessie and nothing was usual about him. His case against marriage was solely built upon the fact he wanted to continue to sleep around and sow his wild oats for as long as they kept coming.
“All, but one. I still have to find a woman who'll be my business partner. What about you, sweetheart? You've had to do more than double the income of this bar since your father died. You've a head for numbers. Just think about what you could do with a million dollars.”
“Hire a bouncer to keep cowboys out.”
“You might need to once I'm your ex-husband. I might be the jealous type.”
“What? Afraid of taking a dose of your own medicine? You know you should never leave a woman who you can't imagine seeing with another man.”
“You know I'm being serious, right?”
“About what? That I need to hire a bouncer to kick your ass out of my bar? What? Are you going to become a mean bitter drunk once you find yourself flat broke?”
“About my offer.”
“Your offer?”
“One million dollars, Debs.”
“To marry you?”
“Exactly. We have six months to plan the wedding. Make it however you like. I really don't care. Just make it big and convincing. I'll foot the bill for it. Just give my mama something to cry at. Then we'll stay married a year or two and then we'll plan for how our marriage will fall apart. While we're married I'll pay for everything, hell, at this point I'd pay for anything. Then when we sign the divorce papers you walk away with one million dollars.”
“Get real, Jessie. What would I do about the bar?”
“We'll hire a full staff to keep it running.”
“Okay, so let's say I agreed, but had one more term to add to it.”
“I'm listening, sweetheart.”
“No sleeping around until we're divorced.”
“Don't want to share me with anyone else?” he chuckled.
“No, I have no plans of sleeping with you. My time and lies can be bought. My body cannot. I just don't want to be the poor woman everyone feels sorry for, because her husband's running around on her.”