1. Harper

"I can't cope anymore."I slam my hands onto Clive's desk. "Help me."

He rolls his eyes. "Dramatic, much?"

I'll give him dramatic. I collapse into a comfortable chair and flop the back of my hand over my forehead.

"You're acting like a character in a Jane Austen novel," he says.

"I feel like one."

Clive picks up a pen and twirls it between his fingers, a sign he's thinking about my predicament. "I take it last night's date didn't go well?"

"It was awful." I lean onto my thighs. "He wore a tweed jacket and a bow tie, for fuck's sake."

Clive laughs.

"It's not funny."

"Yes, it is."

"It's the fifth date Mum has set me up on this week. Five dates in a week. It's only Friday. I swear to god, every one of them was expecting a proposal."

"You have been a busy boy."

"No, I haven't. They wanted marriage proposals, not sex. Not that I would have slept with Emmanuel Parkinson. Do you know what he said to me?"

"No, but you're going to tell me."

"He told me to tone it down."

"Ouch."

I sit upright, rest my leg over my knee, and loop my arm over the back of the chair. "Please tell me it's possible to take out a restraining order."

Clive raises his eyebrows. "On who? Your mother?"

"No. On every eligible bachelor in England. No. The UK. No. The world."

"Even if it were possible, which it's not, you do realise that would also discount every guy you could fuck, don't you?"

I groan and sigh dramatically. "All right, then, on my mother to stop her from setting me up on dates."

"Also not possible. Neither your mother nor these dates pose a threat to your well-being."

"They pose a threat to my sanity."

He chuckles and shakes his head.

"Five dates since Monday." I hold my hand up, fingers spread wide. "Five."

"Oh, the hardship. Getting to take men who hang off your every word to some of the finest restaurants in London. Your life is such a chore, Harper."

"It is."

"Some of us have to work."

"I work."

He waves his hand. "Tell your mother you want her to stop trying to find you a husband."

"I have. Repeatedly. She won't stop."

"She wants to see you settled down."

It's true. I'm the baby of the family. The youngest of five children and the only one who isn't married.

"I don't want to get married."

"No. You want to dip your cock in as many arses as you can by the time you're thirty."

"Or have as many cocks as possible dipped in my arse. I'm not fussy."

Clive snorts. "I bet you're not."

"And what's this ‘by thirty' business? I'm not going to settle down then either. Marriage isn't for me. Or I'm not for marriage. I'm not sure which."

"There's a difference?"

"Yes."

Clive shakes his head.

"You're my best friend and my lawyer. I'm begging you. Help me find a way to stop her. I swear, if I have to go on one more date, I'm not going to be held responsible for my actions. How good a defence attorney are you?"

"In case it escaped your notice, I'm not in criminal law."

I pout. "True. Well, you can learn."

"It's not that bad."

"Yes, it is. Swap places with me for one week, and you'll see how bad it is. I'm living in a Jane Austen novel complete with busybody parents and suitors who range from bland to preposterous, and all want one thing."

"Your arse?"

"My money. None of them want my arse. Well, most of them don't."

"Ever?"

"They claim before marriage. Where does she find these men? Do you think she's paying them not to sleep with me?"

Clive shrugs. "I wouldn't put anything past your mother."

"I love her, but I can't take this anymore. Give me a solution, Clive. Please?"

He turns the pen over in his hands several times. "I can think of one thing you can do to take yourself off the market."

"Get married?"

He gapes at me. "What? No. I was thinking you could join the priesthood."

I hook my top lip. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Catholic priests can't get married."

"Or have sex. Or be gay. Then again, marriage is taking a vow of chastity too."

"Um, how many siblings do you have?"

"Four. Fine, fine, point taken." I put both feet on the floor and press my hands onto my knees. "You know, you might have come up with a brilliant idea."

"You're going to become a priest?"

"Not that idea. The one about getting married."

Clive points the pen at me. "That was your crazy idea. Who are you going to marry? You've never even gone on a second date with anyone."

"I've never gone on a first date with anyone by choice either. But I don't need to date someone to marry them. There must be a service for it. Money can buy everything, right? Even a husband."

"You're serious?"

I relax into the chair and wave my hand. "Why not? I'm not talking about a permanent arrangement. I would get married long enough to prove to my mother that I'm not marriage material. Then she'll stop trying to set me up, and I can get back to having fun."

"Fucking everything that moves?"

"Not everything. I have preferences. And standards."

"Uh-huh. How long are you talking?"

"I don't know. A few weeks. Months. Maybe a year."

"You'd abstain from sex for a year?"

I grimace. "If I have to. I'll use toys."

"You can get some very realistic sex dolls these days."

I arch an eyebrow. "I'm not going to ask how you know that. Email me links." I stand and press my palms onto his desk. "How do we make this happen?"

He leans back in his chair while he clicks his pen within an inch of its life. "You want to get married?"

"No, I don't, but that's not the point. I need to get my mother off my back, and it's the best idea you've come up with."

Clive opens his mouth, but I cut him off.

"Mother has been trying to marry me off since I turned twenty-one. At first, it was bearable. One or two dates a week. But the closer I get to thirty, the more men she throws at me. It's like she thinks I have an expiration date or something."

"Silver foxes are hot."

I scowl. "I'm a long way off becoming a silver fox, thank you very much. But I have no issues with being thirty and single. Or forty and single. Or?—"

Clive holds his hand up. "I get the picture. You want to play the field forever."

"Yes."

"Minus one year?"

"Does it have to be that long?"

"Do you want to convince your mother that you gave marriage a chance?"

I flop back into the chair. "Yes."

"You're an impulsive son of a bitch. Do you know that?"

"Eh, maybe. Can we make it happen?"

"You need to find someone to marry, and you'll need a robust prenuptial agreement in place, which includes the date you'll divorce."

I grin. "It's a good thing I know a lawyer, isn't it?"

Clive rolls his eyes.

"I'll pay handsomely."

"You always do. It's why I keep you as a client."

I give him puppy dog eyes.

"Fine, and because you're my best friend, and you helped me set up my own practice. Satisfied?"

"Very. How do I find a temporary husband?"

"Put an ad in the paper?"

"Mother would see that."

Clive taps the pen on the desk. "I might know an organisation that can help."

I lean towards him. "This sounds very clandestine. What organisation?"

"I can't tell you. I have to introduce you, and if you pass their vetting process, they'll get in touch with you."

"Is it the Mafia?" I whisper.

"No."

"Then who?"

Clive scowls. "I can't tell you."

"How come you're in a secret organisation, and I'm not?"

"Because I'm a lawyer to several rich and powerful people."

"I'm rich and powerful. Well, I'm rich."

"Which is why I'm going to refer you."

"And this secret not-the-Mafia organisation can find me a husband-for-hire?"

"Yes."

"Wow."

"I'll make the introductions, but while you wait for them to vet you, I want you to promise me something."

"What?"

"Think this through. I'm hoping you realise how dumb this plan of yours is. A year is a long time to be married to someone you don't know."

"I don't need to think it through. It's the perfect plan. Thank you for dreaming it up."

"I—"

"You can be my best man. I'm thinking Vegas for the wedding. I don't want to wait twelve weeks for a marriage licence. Would it be too flashy to charter a private jet to take my husband-to-be to Vegas?"

Clive throws his pen onto the desk. "I give up. You're insane, Harper Carr. Certifiable."

"But you're going to help me."

He sighs. "Yes. I'm going to help you."

"And be my best man?"

He nods. "Now go on and get out of my office. I have work to do."