CHAPTER 5 — The Broker

“You’re asking a lot of personal questions for a job you still haven’t explained.”

Celeste looked down at the form between them.

They were sitting in the back corner of a quiet café Irene would never have chosen for herself. The coffee cost almost as much as lunch, and nobody behind the counter looked rushed.

Celeste had arrived exactly on time.

She was mid-forties, maybe. Dark hair, fitted coat, clean nails, expensive watch. She looked like someone who had never had to check her bank balance before ordering food.

Irene had come straight from work.

She had almost canceled twice.

The first time was after Celeste called exactly forty-eight hours after the phone screening and told her where to meet.

The second was after Irene searched the address and realized the place had a dress code listed online.

She came anyway because three months of rent had a way of making people flexible.

Celeste tapped the page with her pen.

“I need to finish the preliminary questions before I can explain the position.”

“You already asked whether I’m single.”

“Yes.”

“And whether I drink.”

“Yes.”

“You asked how often.”

“That’s because it’s important.”

“You asked about drugs, parties, ex-boyfriends, debt, whether I’ve ever been arrested, whether anyone might have a reason to blackmail me.”

“Again, it’s because these are important.”

Irene leaned back. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a job interview where blackmail came up.”

“This isn’t a normal job, Ms Potter.”

“I figured that out.”

Celeste studied her for a moment, then moved to the next question. “When was your last serious relationship?”

Irene looked toward the window. “Years ago.”

“How many?”

“How many?” She found the question laughable. “Does it matter?”

“It could.”

Irene exhaled. “Four.”

“And since then?”

“I’ve dated a little. Nothing serious, though.”

“Anyone who might believe they still have a claim on you?”

Irene looked back at her. “No.”

The man from the elevator entered her mind for no good reason. He had no claim on anything because, again, she didn’t even know his name.

Celeste made another note. “Sexual relationships?”

Irene’s face warmed slightly. “You really do ask everything.”

“I need an honest answer.”

“I’ve had sex.”

“I wasn’t asking whether you were a virgin.”

“Good, because that would’ve been a strange requirement.”

Celeste didn’t smile. Irene decided she probably wasn’t supposed to either.

“No current partner,” she said. “No one waiting for me. No one who’s going to show up angry if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“That is part of what I’m worried about.”

That made Irene sit straighter. “What’s the other part?”

Celeste capped the pen. For the first time since the meeting began, she pushed the paperwork aside.

“The position involves a legal marriage.”

Irene stared at her.There was enough noise in the café that she wondered if she had heard wrong.

“A what?”

“A temporary legal marriage.”

Irene waited but Celeste did not correct herself.

“To who?”

“A private client.”

“You brought me here to ask if I’ll marry somebody whose name you won’t tell me.”

“I am telling you now because you passed the preliminary screening.”

“I haven’t agreed to anything.”

“No.”

“Good.” Irene picked up her bag.

Celeste did not try to stop her and it bothered her enough that she stayed seated.

“For six months,” Celeste said.

Irene looked at her.

“The marriage would last six months,” Celeste continued. “It would be legally valid. You would appear with him publicly when required and attend certain private functions. You would sign a nondisclosure agreement covering the arrangement and his personal affairs.”

“And after six months?”

“The marriage ends.”

“Divorce?”

“Yes.”

Irene looked around the café. Nobody nearby appeared to be listening.

“Why?”

“The client has political and social reasons for requiring a wife.”

“That isn’t really an explanation.”

“It is the explanation I’m authorized to give before you meet him.”

Irene tightened her grip on the bag strap.

“So I get legally married to a stranger, pretend to be his wife in public, then divorce him six months later.”

“Yes.”

“And the letter called this employment.”

“The marriage is the employment.”

Irene almost stood again. Then she remembered Amanda’s call. Another two hundred forty dollars a month. Belle’s tuition. Her rent.

Dammit. She hated that those numbers had enough weight to keep her in the chair.

“What does he expect from the wife part?”

“Be specific.”

“Do I have to sleep with him?”

“No.”

Celeste answered immediately. “No physical intimacy is required.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing unless you choose otherwise.”

“Okay. Do I live with him?”

“Partially. The schedule can be negotiated.”

“Because I have jobs.”

“We know.”

“And I’m keeping them.”

“That can be discussed.”

“No. If the condition is that I quit working, I’m leaving.”

Celeste nodded once. “I’ll note it.”

Irene frowned. “You make it sound like I’m already negotiating.”

“You are.”

That was unsettling and Irene leaned back. “How much?”

Celeste opened a second folder.

“The figures in the letter you received were introductory.”

“You mean there’s more?”

“Yes.”

She turned the folder toward Irene.

Six months of rent.

Six months of Belle’s tuition.

Six months of Amanda’s rehab.

Irene stopped reading.

The page blurred slightly before she blinked and focused again. Below that was a monthly salary of twelve thousand dollars, after taxes and for six months.

Irene read the number twice.

“That’s seventy-two thousand dollars.”

“Yes.”

She thought about what that kind of money would change, though not forever. But long enough to breathe. Long enough to stop moving money between bills and hoping nothing unexpected happened.

“Why would anybody pay me that much?”

“Because the client values privacy, cooperation, and discretion.”

“There are women with better backgrounds than mine.”

“That depends on what the client considers better.”

Irene looked down at the file. “What does he know about me?”

“Enough to select you for screening.”

“That’s not comforting.”

“It isn’t meant to be.”

Irene looked at Celeste carefully. “Okay. Who is he?”

Celeste opened her tablet, and for a second, Irene expected a businessman. Someone older. Maybe married before. Wealthy enough that temporary marriage was easier than whatever political problem he had.

Then Celeste turned the screen around.

Irene looked at the photograph and saw silver hair, pale skin, and light eyes. A face that looked no older than thirty.

She recognized what he was before Celeste said it.

“His name is Lord Ares Valcieri.”

“Who is that?”

“Head of the Valcieri Coven.”

“And I’m supposed to know what that means?”

“Most people in his world would.”

“I’m not in his world.” Irene looked at Celeste. “So you want me to marry a vampire.”

“For six months.”

Irene looked back at the photograph.

There was something unsettling about his face. He was too calm and too composed. But very attractive, which did not help.

“Does he drink blood from people?”

Celeste’s expression remained professional. “He is a vampire. But, no, you would not be required to feed him.”

Irene sat there for several seconds.

Two nights ago, a lycan stranger had smelled her in an elevator. Yesterday, he had found her workplace. Today, a woman in an expensive coat was offering her seventy-two thousand dollars to marry a vampire lord.

Irene looked once more at Ares Valcieri’s photograph before Celeste turned the tablet back around. For the first time, she wondered what kind of man needed to pay a stranger to become his wife.

“I need to go home and think about how my life got this weird.”

Celeste slid a card across the table. “You have twenty-four hours.”