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Foster sighs. “Do we really?”
“You said you had a plan.”
“But I’m rethinking it. If we stay married, then there is no need to tell anyone how we got together.”
“That would be deceitful.”
“What does it matter?”
“It matters to me. It would be a stain on our marriage.”
He grins suggestively. “Then maybe we should get divorced and marry again. I’ll give you the wedding of your dreams.”
“That would be even worse,” I groan.
“We’ll figure something out.”
I rub at my eyes with my fingers. “Whatever we tell our families and friends, they’re going to hate us.”
“They aren’t going to hate us. My biggest worry is my father.”
“I forgot about that. If we tell him, does that mean he’ll expect you to pay him in full?”
He sighs, shrugging. “I trust it will. My father will consider my actions fraudulent.”
“Then, we can’t. I won’t jeopardize your business.”
“Paige, I appreciate it, but it was my idea. I’ll face the consequences.”
“You told me in the beginning that you were worried about the people working for the businesses if you ended up needing to sell the company. I can’t let that happen. We shouldn’t say anything.”
“I’ll do whatever you want,” he admits. “It’s your choice, and I’ll stand behind you.”
“Then, my mind is made up. We keep it secret. Maybe ten years from now, we can reveal how our marriage came about.”
Foster grins once more as he scratches at his arm. “Ten years, huh?”
“We might even have a baby,” I say easily.
“Now, you’re pushing it.”
I smirk. “Why? Because Mr. Gazillionaire can’t change dirty diapers?”
“I can change them and more. Now do me a favor and come over here. I’d like to kiss you.”
I close the distance between us, sitting on Foster’s lap as he wraps his arms around me. It feels strange at first, but seconds later, as his lips trail down my neck, it’s like home. He gently sucks at my flesh, swirling his tongue over my skin.
“I like that,” I whisper.
“We should talk about sleeping arrangements,” he responds just as lowly.
My stomach churns. Our marriage is now a reality, but our relationship is different than it was this morning. Separate bedrooms would not be needed.
“I think you’ll be comfortable in my bed,” I say teasingly.
“Uh, uh. I want you in my bed.”
“Should I move my clothes to your closet?”
