MALIA
— It's unnecessary.
Those words mark the first time we've reached a stalemate since he told me he wanted me to be his wife.
— It's not unnecessary, I argue. — You said you'd rather marry someone under contract than someone after your money. A contract protects you just as much as it protects me.
— Malia.He stands up, moving to my side.— We are going to marry under community property laws. If you ever want a divorce, the division of assets will be your security. As for me? I don't care about the money; I care about the phoniness that usually comes with it. I know why you're marrying me, and you don't have to pretend to love me to get what you want. At least not when we're alone.
— But—
— I told you, I need to achieve one thing first. After that, the choice to divorce—and when—is yours, he says. — But if I don't succeed, and you want to set an expiration date for this marriage, that's up to you.
— An expiration date? I ask.
— Yes. If I haven't reached my goal by then, we divorce.
— But how am I supposed to know how much time to give you if I don't even know what it is you want?
He simply smiles.
— You name the time. How long do you intend to stay married to me?
The question catches me off guard. I don't know how much of my life I'm willing to give him. Could I handle it? I look at him and see everything a woman could ever want. He's handsome, wealthy, and treats me with respect. But the real question is: could I survive a loveless marriage? Love has already broken me once—what happens when it's not there at all?
— How about three years? I suggest.
He seems to consider it for a moment before smiling.
— I think three years is enough.
Something inside me feels like a warning.
— I don't know what to do, I admit, my voice trembling with honesty. — Everything is moving so fast. I accepted immediately because of my daughter; I haven't had time to think clearly. This is madness.I let out a nervous laugh.
— You're worried, aren't you?He sits down beside me.
— How could I not be? I'm marrying a stranger just to win custody of my daughter, even though there should be other ways to do it. This feels... humiliating. And dangerous.
— You know you can still reconsider, right? Even if my word doesn't mean much to you because you don't know me, I promise I won't hurt you, he says. — You have a record for trafficking and conspiracy. Even if you don't marry me, it will be nearly impossible for a judge to grant you custody. While you help me, I'm giving you my name and my influence to use however you see fit.
— You know why I was arrested, and you're still making me this offer. Why? I ask, finding the whole thing strange.
He fixes those green eyes on me. For a moment, he says nothing, just studying my face with that deep, piercing gaze.
— Because I know the truth, Malia, he finally says. — If you're willing to do all this for the person you love, then you're the most trustworthy person I could ever know.
This time, I'm the one staring at him in silence. He knows the truth. Of course he does. If he didn't, he'd be crazy to keep me around.
— So... how is this going to work? I ask, dropping my gaze to the floor.
— We meet our families first. No one can know the real circumstances of our engagement.
— So we lie to them too?
— It's necessary. And if you'd like, we can bring your daughter along.
My heart skips a beat.
— But my parents don't live here. If we go to their house, we'll have to stay for the weekend.
— That's fine. Set it up with them. The night before we leave, we'll have dinner with my parents, he says.
Despite the spark of hope, I quickly deflate.
— They won't let me take her, I say, a familiar ache tightening in my chest. — They barely let me see her once a month, and even then, only for a few hours.
— Don't worry about that. I'll go with you to pick her up. There won't be any problems.
— Are you sure? I ask, the hope still feeling out of reach. I know what they're like. I don't believe they'll let her go. We won't be able to.
— I'm going to show you, he says firmly, — that you can trust me.