Chapter 4 - THE KISS AND THE ONE-YEAR TRAP
Over the next three weeks, Adrian Mercer discovered that being married to Emily Harper was deeply inconvenient.
She moved his expensive abstract sculpture because she said it looked like “a chrome plumbing accident.”
She filled his silent penthouse with jazz on Sunday mornings.
She put oranges in a bowl that had sat empty on his kitchen counter for four years.
She bought a ridiculous yellow blanket for the sofa.
And she asked questions no one else dared ask him.
“Do you actually like running Mercer Industries?”
Adrian looked up from his laptop.
It was nearly eleven on a Tuesday night.
“What kind of question is that?”
“A normal one.”
“No one asks CEOs whether they like being CEOs.”
“Maybe that’s why so many of you look miserable.”
Adrian stared at her.
Emily continued reading.
Three seconds later, he laughed.
It startled both of them.
Their marriage settled into something neither had expected.
Not romance.
Not yet.
But companionship.
They ate dinner together whenever Adrian was home before nine. Emily resumed volunteer work at a neighborhood literacy center in Lincoln Park and began consulting for a small museum. Adrian helped her secure neither position, a fact she made extremely clear.
One Saturday he arrived home to find eighteen cardboard boxes stacked in his foyer.
“What happened?”
“Books.”
“I see that.”
“For the literacy center.”
“You had them delivered here?”
“They accidentally sent them to my billing address.”
Adrian stared at the mountain.
“How many books did you buy?”
“Two hundred and forty.”
“You bought two hundred and forty children’s books?”
“Technically you bought them.”
He raised an eyebrow.
Emily smiled innocently.
“Your credit card gives better reward points.”
“You’re stealing from me?”
“I signed away forty-eight million dollars. I figured you could survive Goodnight Moon.”
He laughed again.
That afternoon, Adrian went with her to deliver the books.
He intended to stay twenty minutes.
He stayed four hours.
He watched Emily sit cross-legged on a faded rug while seven children argued over which character in a story had been bravest.
A little boy named Marcus climbed onto Adrian’s chair and asked if rich people still had to brush their teeth.
“Yes,” Adrian answered solemnly.
“Even billionaires?”
“I’m not a billionaire.”
Marcus looked disappointed.
“Then why do you wear that watch?”
Emily nearly choked.
On the ride home, Adrian removed the watch and placed it in the glove compartment.
“What are you doing?” Emily asked.
“Apparently it’s misleading.”
She laughed so hard she had to wipe tears from her eyes.
Adrian watched her.
Something inside him shifted.
Dangerously.
He had dated glamorous women before.
Women who understood private clubs, charity galas, yachts, and ski houses.
He had never met anyone who could walk from a room of wealthy donors into a classroom of eight-year-olds without changing her voice.
Emily was the same person everywhere.
That unsettled him because Adrian had spent most of his life becoming whatever a room required.
Three nights later, he came home after midnight.
Emily was asleep on the couch.
A book rested open against her chest.
The yellow blanket covered only half of her.
Adrian stood there longer than he should have.
Then he gently pulled the blanket over her shoulders.
Emily opened her eyes.
“You’re home.”
“Go back to sleep.”
“What time is it?”
“Late.”
“You ate?”
“Yes.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“You’re lying.”
“I had almonds.”
“Almonds are not dinner.”
“They were expensive almonds.”
Emily sat up.
“Kitchen.”
“Emily—”
“Kitchen, Mercer.”
Twenty minutes later she placed scrambled eggs and toast in front of a man whose company generated hundreds of millions in annual revenue.
Adrian looked down at the plate.
“No one has ever ordered me to eat eggs at one in the morning.”
“That explains your personality.”
He looked at her.
Emily smiled.
And then he did something he had promised himself he would not do.
He reached across the counter and touched her hand.
Neither moved.
The apartment suddenly felt very quiet.
“Emily.”
Her eyes lifted to his.
Adrian could feel his pulse in his throat.
She turned her hand beneath his until their palms touched.
That tiny gesture nearly broke him.
He leaned closer.
Then stopped.
Their faces were inches apart.
“Tell me,” he whispered.
“Tell you what?”
“If I’m allowed.”
Emily’s breath trembled.
She closed the distance.
The kiss lasted only seconds.
Soft.
Careful.
Nothing like the cold, ceremonial kiss at their wedding.
When they separated, Adrian rested his forehead against hers.
“I’ve wanted to do that for days.”
“Only days?”
He laughed under his breath.
“Maybe longer.”
Emily smiled.
Then Adrian’s phone rang.
The name on the screen changed everything.
Daniel Mercer.
Adrian’s cousin.
He answered.
“What?”
Daniel’s voice was audible in the silent kitchen.
“You should check your email.”
“Why?”
“Because Grandfather was even more paranoid than we thought.”
Adrian opened his laptop.
A legal memorandum appeared on the screen.
Emily watched his face change.
“What is it?”
He didn’t answer.
“Adrian?”
He slowly closed his eyes.
“The marriage requirement isn’t just that I marry before thirty-seven.”
“What else?”
“I have to remain legally married for one year.”
Emily’s hand slipped from his.
Adrian continued before she could speak.
“I didn’t know.”
She looked at him.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.”
“The lawyers never mentioned it?”
“The trust document has multiple amendments. Daniel found one filed six months before my grandfather died.”
Emily stepped away from the island.
“One year.”
“Yes.”
“And if we divorce before then?”
“The shares transfer to Daniel.”
The warmth of their kiss vanished.
Emily crossed her arms.
“So now every nice thing you do for the next year has a price tag.”
“No.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“No.”
“How am I supposed to know?”
Adrian flinched.
Emily hated that she had hurt him.
She hated even more that the question was fair.
“I need some sleep,” she said.
“Emily, please.”
She stopped at the hallway.
“I believed you when you said you wanted this marriage to become a choice.”
“I meant it.”
“I know.”
May you like
She looked back at him.
“That’s what scares me.”
