Silbie Luna just wanted to pass her classes and become the first undergrad co-captain for her derby team. She never thought shooting a promo for the athletic department would lead to a coveted role in a highly anticipated movie series. But not only...
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Dante's head buzzed like a neon sign. Did she say she wanted him to marry her? Holy shit. That couldn't be right. Shit like that only happened in movies and fanfiction. Before he made sense of it, she spoke again.
"Please hear me out. I realize this is a complete surprise, but this evening proves we're compatible, and you're only looking at a short period of time."
Compatible. Time. The only words he could process. His brain had clearly shorted out.
"One year. That's all I'm asking." She leaned forward and snapped her fingers before his eyes. "You okay?"
He jolted back to reality. Ran his hand over his face. Inhaled a deep breath. "Marry you. That's what you said—right?"
She nodded. "Yes, and you must think I'm crazy, but I'm not. I've given this a lot of thought. The arrangement can be advantageous for us both if you'll give it a chance. Agree to my proposal, and I promise your company will have my full support."
Tears filled her eyes. She looked away for a few seconds. "I'm not doing a very good job of explaining this."
He shouldered back in his chair. "This makes no sense. Why me? Why only a year? What the fuck's going on, Bea?"
She straightened. Laced her fingers together and rested them on her lap. "Before I give you the details, I need you to sign this." She shuffled around and presented him with a document.
It took a second for him to process her words, looking back and forth between her and the papers in her outstretched hand. "An NDA?"
"Yes. Regardless of your decision, I don't want you to disclose anything we discuss."
His first thought was to tell her to go to hell, but he understood she had a reputation at stake. If the locals found out Bea proposed to a man twenty years younger, she'd be a laughing stock. No skin off his teeth. "Sure."
She handed him the form and pen and he signed, then passed it back.
She eyed the paper, then met his gaze. "I have an inoperable brain tumor. I have a year— two at the most."
Didn't know what he'd expected her to say—but not that. His anger slid away, and some new emotions washed over him. Pity? Doubt? Shock? Maybe a mixture of all three plus a dozen more. Her announcement brought his mother's death to mind, and sadness stabbed his gut. "You should get a second opinion."
Her bottom lip trembled. "What do you think I've been doing for the past eight months? I've lost count of the opinions. Hope has turned to acceptance, and with that, I've made decisions. Realistically, I won't make it another sixteen months. When it comes to dying, doctors are generous with their prognosis."
He still didn't understand how marrying him would help—unless. "So, you need a project to keep you busy, and my failing business is it? Even so, why marriage?"
