Chapter 5: Marry Me Before the World Ends

"Marry me."

Severin stared at me.

For the first time since I'd met him, he seemed to have run out of questions. It lasted perhaps two seconds, but I appreciated every one of them.

Then he put down the pen he'd been holding.

"No."

"You haven't heard the terms."

"I heard the proposal."

"Then you're rejecting something you haven't examined. I thought you were more thorough than that."

His eyes narrowed. "And I thought you understood the difference between a business negotiation and a marriage proposal."

"I do. That's why I'm making both part of the same agreement."

We were back in the operations building, with the industrial property documents spread across the table between us. I'd spent most of the previous evening working through the numbers, checking which assets I could secure quickly and which suppliers might still honor their quotations if the situation deteriorated. I had also considered every reasonable way to approach Severin without asking him to trust a woman whose real explanation would sound impossible.

A marriage of convenience had not been my first choice.

It had become the most practical one.

Severin folded his arms. "Explain why you think marrying me makes sense."

"Your project needs funding, property access, and a reliable supply chain. I can help provide all three. I need a defensible place to survive, access to your operational expertise, and a formal position in the organization we're building. A legal partnership would give us a clear framework for combining our resources."

"None of that requires marriage."

"Not by itself."

"Then we're getting somewhere. What does marriage give you that a business contract doesn't?"

I had expected the question. I still disliked answering it.

"Legal recognition as your spouse, a stronger basis for shared property arrangements, and a defined relationship if we need to make decisions during an emergency. Depending on the arrangements we establish, it could also make it easier to protect jointly acquired assets."

"Those things can be handled through other legal agreements."

"Some of them can. That's why I'm willing to discuss alternatives. But marriage gives us a recognized personal and legal partnership, not simply a commercial one."

He watched me carefully. "You're asking for a considerable commitment from someone you've known for less than a week."

"I know."

"And you expect me to believe this has nothing to do with attraction?"

Heat crept up my neck, which irritated me because I'd prepared for financial objections, legal objections, and the possibility that he would ask me to leave. I hadn't prepared for the simple fact that Severin was a man I found attractive, especially when he was looking at me as though he could see every thought I was trying to conceal.

"I'm not blind," I said. "But attraction isn't the reason I'm proposing marriage."

"How reassuring."

"You asked."

"And you answered. Now tell me what happens when we disagree."

"We negotiate."

"What happens when you want to leave?"

"I leave, subject to whatever lawful obligations we've agreed to."

"What happens when I decide your business decisions are endangering the settlement?"

"You explain the risk, and we review the evidence. If it's an immediate security emergency, you have authority over security operations. That doesn't give you authority over every other part of my life."

His expression sharpened, but he didn't interrupt.

I pushed a document toward him. "I've drafted preliminary terms. They're not a final contract. They're a starting point."

He read in silence while I watched the light shift across the unfinished wall behind him. The proposal established separate personal assets, defined contributions to the settlement, and required written agreement before either of us could commit the other's resources. My procurement responsibilities would remain mine unless we agreed otherwise. His security command would remain his. Major decisions affecting the entire settlement would require consultation, with an emergency procedure for situations in which there wasn't time to wait.

There were also provisions for privacy, confidentiality, and dissolution of the arrangement if it became untenable.

Severin stopped at the last page.

"You've included an exit clause."

"Of course."

"Most people don't propose marriage while planning how to end it."

"Most people aren't trying to negotiate a marriage with a stranger while preparing for a disaster they can't explain."

His gaze lifted at that.

I wished I could take the words back, but I didn't look away.

"What disaster?" he asked.

"The one I've been trying to get you to prepare for."

"You're still avoiding the question."

"Because I can't give you an explanation you'll believe."

"Try me."

I thought of the overturned bus, the infected pressing against the wreckage, and the expression on Corvin's face when he decided leaving me was safer than helping me. Then I thought of Severin disappearing into that same chaos.

"Something is coming that will make ordinary arrangements useless," I said. "I need to be somewhere that has a chance of surviving it. You need resources to finish what you're building. We can help each other, but neither of us should enter an arrangement that leaves us powerless."

He looked down at the contract again.

"You're asking me to make a life-changing decision based on a warning you won't substantiate."

"I'm asking you to examine the proposal on its merits. You don't have to believe my predictions to see the value of a secure property, reliable suppliers, backup power, water storage, and an organized emergency plan."

"Then why marriage?"

"Because I don't want to spend the next month as a temporary investor whose access can be revoked the moment we disagree. I want a partnership with clear rights and obligations, and I'm willing to offer the same protections I'm asking for."

He tapped the page with one finger. "You understand that being my wife wouldn't make you my equal in every operational decision."

"Being your wife wouldn't make me your subordinate either."

For several seconds, the room was quiet.

Then he laughed once, unexpectedly. It wasn't a warm, carefree sound, but it loosened something in the air between us.

"You really have thought this through."

"I've had time to think."

"How much time?"

Too much, I nearly said. More than you could imagine.

Instead, I answered, "Enough to know that waiting for the perfect arrangement is a luxury I don't have."

Severin rose and walked toward the open doorway. Outside, a worker was attempting to maneuver a loaded trolley around a stack of construction materials. The wheel caught, the trolley tilted, and another worker hurried over to steady it.

Severin watched until they had cleared the obstruction.

"If I agree to consider this," he said, "I won't accept a marriage built on vague promises. I want independent verification of your funding, a full review of the property, and a detailed inventory of the supplies you can actually secure. No inflated estimates. No money committed without written authorization."

"Agreed."

"You'll have access to the settlement, but not unrestricted access to security information. That will depend on your role and what we determine you need to know."

"Reasonable."

"And you won't use the marriage to interfere with my command."

"Then you won't use your command to interfere with my lawful decisions."

He turned back toward me. "You're very determined to make sure I understand that you won't be controlled."

"I've had enough experience with people who confuse commitment with ownership."

Something in my voice must have changed, because he stopped examining the contract and studied my face instead.

"Your previous relationship?"

The question landed too close to a wound I had barely begun to understand.

"Something like that."

He didn't press me, although I could tell he wanted to. Instead, he returned to the table and pulled the contract toward him.

"I haven't agreed to marry you."

"I heard you the first time."

"But I'm willing to examine the proposal. If your documents are accurate and the property can support our plans, we'll discuss the next stage."

It wasn't acceptance. I knew that. Still, it was more than I'd expected when I'd walked into the building that morning.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. I haven't finished."

He turned to a blank page and wrote several conditions of his own. He wanted a medical contingency plan, an independent review of the property's structural condition, and a clear process for deciding who could enter the settlement. He also insisted that neither of us would be expected to provide romantic or physical affection as a contractual obligation.

I looked up when he finished.

"I wasn't planning to include that."

"You'd be surprised what people assume marriage entitles them to."

"I wouldn't."

His eyes held mine for a moment. The guardedness was still there, but beneath it I caught something that hadn't been present during our first meeting: recognition. Not of me, exactly, but of the person I was trying to be.

He slid the paper across the table.

"Review these. If you agree, we'll have a lawyer prepare a proper agreement. Nothing gets signed until we've both had independent legal advice."

I read every condition, then nodded. "I agree."

"Good."

I gathered the documents, trying not to let relief show too plainly. We had a possible agreement, a property to inspect, and a limited window in which to secure the resources we needed. It wasn't enough to guarantee survival, but it was a beginning.

Then Severin said, "There's one final question before I decide whether this is worth pursuing."

I stopped.

He was watching me with the same focused attention he'd given my procurement figures, except now I was the problem he intended to solve.

"You said you need somewhere that has a chance of surviving what's coming. You found my project before most people know it exists. You identified weaknesses in my plans, and you've arranged your finances around a deadline you refuse to explain."

He leaned forward slightly.

"So tell me, Vespera. What do you know about the next thirty days that you're so afraid to tell me?"