London Dynasty (The Dynasties #1) - Geneva Lee Page 0,8

to sleep with you, would that be a problem? You aren’t a virgin, are you?”

“No,” I said quickly, hoping he didn’t spot the lie. The reality was that I didn’t know if I could sleep with a complete stranger in exchange for money, even ten million pounds, but I wasn’t ready to say no to his proposal yet, either.

There was no way around it. The money would change my life. It would change almost anyone’s life. I couldn’t believe I was actually sitting here considering selling myself—selling my virginity—to some rich Londoner so some rich heiress could sip cocktails on a beach. But did I really have any other choice? Was I willing to say no and continue to scrape by, not making enough to live on and keeping my head down in a pub in the middle of nowhere? Still, I couldn’t bring myself to say yes.

“Why are you doing it?” I asked him. That’s what I needed to understand.

“I’m sorry?”

“The arranged marriage,” I told him. “Why bother?”

“It is in the best interest of Kerrigan,” he explained. “My own title won’t pass to her.”

“Because she’s a girl?” I never understood how that little caveat had continued to exist amongst most of the aristocracy. Someone should write the king and tell him it was the twenty-first century.

“That would be the case under most circumstances. But as I’m only a Baron, my title isn’t hereditary,” he said. “A union between her and Spencer Byrd will ensure that she continues to rise in the London circles.”

“Is that what she wants?”

There was a moment’s pause as this hit him. It was clear he’d never considered the question.

“Of course it is,” he said in a low voice, fury hiding in it as if he was offended that I might understand his daughter better than he did. “Why wouldn’t she? She spent her whole life in this world. She must know how important it is to our, I mean, her future.”

I suspected his interests were not as altruistic as he tried to make them out to be, especially after that little slip-up. But on the surface, I couldn’t fault a father for wanting the best for his child. I just wasn’t sure that marrying her in exchange for a title and fortune would make her happy in the long run.

“Can I think about it?” I asked him.

“Think about it?” He blinked as if he heard me wrong. “You need to think about an offer of ten million pounds?”

But I didn’t budge. “I need to think about it. Is that a problem?”

“No. Of course, not.” The strain in his voice said otherwise. “You have twenty-four hours.”

I nodded. Surely, I didn’t need more time than that to consider. “And if I say yes? Should I pack my bags?”

“That won’t be necessary. You’ll need to look the part as soon as you arrive in London.”

I read between the lines of what he was saying. Nothing I owned from my well-worn plum-pink handbag to my underpants would help me pass as Kerrigan Belmond. “I understand.”

Mr. Belmond stood from his seat and slipped a card from his pocket. I was beginning to wonder what else he had hiding in there. “When you’ve made a decision, please call me. I will remain in the area in the hopes of hearing from you.”

I showed him to the door and said goodbye. As I closed it behind him, I studied the business card. It was printed on heavy, linen cardstock. Tod Belmond was printed in an elegant script. Under his name was his phone number and email address. I turned it over to find a coat of arms emblazoned with Pertinacia, Patria Et Rex on the back. I should look up what it meant. Maybe it would give me some insight into the Belmonds and whether I should say yes or no. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts I didn’t hear Eliza enter the living room, not until she interrupted my thoughts and answered for me. “You’d be crazy to say no. Kate, you can’t seriously be thinking about saying no.”

Chapter Five

I nearly jumped out of my skin, dropping the card in the process as I shrieked, “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” she said, sounding not at all apologetic. “Ok, let’s back up a step and deal with the most important decision? Do we drink all the wine? Or something harder? I think we need a drink.”

“It’s nine in the morning,” I told her as I bent to pick