Page 48 of Pucking Daddy

"A marriage of convenience. Someone who can testify to my character, who has an established relationship with Lily, who the court would see as a stable maternal presence."

He laughs, the sound harsh. "It's insane. I know it's insane. But my lawyer ran the numbers, and cases with two-parent households get favorable outcomes nearly seventy percent more often than single parent cases, and I can't—" His voice cracks. "I can't lose her, Zara."

I sit there, frozen, my brain scrambling to process what he’s actually suggesting.

“What…” My voice shakes, and I force it steady. “What are you saying?”

“I want us to get married.”

My mouth falls open. This is ludicrous. This man—this picture of control—is suggesting marriage between us.

“Is this a joke?” I ask, because I don’t know what else to say.

He crosses the room in three strides, stopping just close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.

“I’m dead serious. I’d do anything for my daughter. I need to show the court there’s a maternal figure in my household. I’m not dating anyone, and I’m not about to bring some random woman into our lives right now. But you’re already here. Lily already loves you. It would be… ideal.”

I stare at him. “Ideal?”

I shake my head, disbelief washing over me. “What do you mean, ideal? Aren’t you forgetting something? Like the part where you’re supposed to love the person you marry? Till death do us part and all that?” I let out a sharp breath. “I’m not marrying you just because I happen to be here.”

Gee. I always imagined a proposal would be a little more romantic.

“Oh—and I would, of course, compensate you.”

I blink. “Wow. Thanks. I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse.”

His jaw tightens. “It’s not supposed to make it better.”

“Oh, good,” I say dryly. “Because it doesn’t.”

“I’m not talking about a real marriage,” he says, slipping back into that controlled, strategic tone. “It would be legal, yes, but temporary. Structured. There would be an agreement.”

“An agreement,” I repeat, incredulous.

A short laugh escapes me, because it’s that or completely lose my mind.

“You want to marry me,” I say slowly, enunciating every word like maybe that will make it sound less insane, “for legal optics.”

“Yes.”

“Because your lawyer told you it would look good.”

“Yes.”

“And your solution was—what? Turn to your nanny and go, ‘Hey, you’ll do?’”

His eyes flash. “That’s not what I said.”

“It’s basically what you said.”

“No,” he counters, stepping closer again. “What I said was that you’re already part of this household. Lily trusts you. She feels safe with you. That matters.”

My chest tightens for a second at that. Annoying.

I ignore it.

“That does not mean I should marry you,” I shoot back.