I pushed away from the window. “I have an MBA and a JD. I took my father’s million dollar tech company and made it into a billion dollar green tech company. Why exactly does it matter if I’ve had a lot of girlfriends?”
“Girlfriends?” She quirked an eyebrow at me and scoffed. “That’s being pretty generous with the terms. I’d be surprised if you even knew the names of half of them.”
She was right, but I didn’t have to admit it. “Listen—”
“No, you listen. I know you want to do a lot of good in the world, and that’s admirable, but you’re going to need to show the constituency that you’ve turned things around and that you’re not such a slut.”
“Hey. We don’t use that word. It’s disrespectful. Whatever two consenting adults do is—”
“See? That’s good. Personal freedom and respectful choices. We’ll work with that, but we also need to show that you are a reformed bad boy, the kind who respects women.”
“I do respect women. I—”
“And that means we need to show you in a healthy, respectful relationship with a woman who is upstanding, reflects well upon you, and is a perfect lady.”
I had to laugh. She glared. I laughed harder.
“It’s not funny. I’m serious. This is the best way for you to redeem your womanizing past. You need to get married to a woman whose judgment can’t be questioned.”
I stopped laughing. “You’re serious. You want me to get married? What am I going to do? Just pull a wife out of thin air? Oh, I know. I’ll call up one of my girls from the past, say I’ve never forgotten her, and then give her a ring.”
She rolled her eyes at my sarcasm. “Goodness, no. None of your one-night stands and flings are beyond reproach. No, I’ve made a list of potential wives.”
She handed me a stack of papers—a stack. I glanced at it and saw name after name with stats and an abbreviated resume. “These are all actresses and models. You want me to hire an actress to play my wife?”
She raised her eyebrows and nodded. Her white-blonde hair fell against her jaw.
I tossed the papers on the desk. “I’m not marrying an actress. You want me to seem like I’m reformed? What’s reformed about a billionaire taking up with an actress or model? No. It’s too public. It’s not classy.”
“Oh, I see. You’re looking for class. The actresses and models are only on the first three pages. There are plenty of other options.”
I shook my head. This was a ridiculous conversation, and I couldn’t believe that I was having it. I couldn’t argue that there was a kind of sense to it, though. Why not go all in? I hadn’t been planning on getting married, but she was right. It was better for my image and for a career as a politician. Everyone liked a family man. The idea of finding someone real to love seemed impossible. I’d never gotten anywhere near having feelings like that. Maybe getting myself a fake wife would be best. I would have to deal with none of the fuss of love and feelings. It was only a business arrangement, and I was good at business.
“How about you? That would be the easiest. You can play the part of my fake wife.”
Now it was her turn to laugh heartily. “No,” she said, still chuckling. “No, I’m not marrying you. First of all, I’m not beyond reproach, either. My life is plenty sordid, and I’m not about to submit my past to the kind of scrutiny your wife would get when you run for office. Besides, you and I wouldn’t work out.”
Now I was insulted. “Whyever not? Just so you know, I’m a catch.”
“Yes, darling, I know, and you’re a beautiful specimen. Unfortunately, I like my men a bit rougher around the edges, not so clean cut, and just this side of dangerous. I plan on falling in love, not having a business arrangement for a marriage.”
“Why, Ms. Cook. You’re a romantic.”
“Lucky for you, because I know what everyone else will swoon over. We’ll find you a fiancee, sign a contract, and have a whirlwind romance and then a romantic elopement. It will all be managed through media leaks until we bring out an official announcement of your marriage. You will be all that anyone is talking about, and any time we want to give your image a little boost, all we have to do is trot out your wife. Reach another milestone in life. Have a baby.”
“Wait a minute. I thought this was a fake marriage? Having a baby is not a fake marriage.”
“Not a fake marriage, Will. This will be an arranged marriage. I mean, unless you wanted to wait until you find the perfect woman to fall in love with…” She let the words fade before letting a smirk rise on her face. “I didn’t think so. Arranged marriages aren’t so odd. They’ve been happening for eons. All you need to do is find the right woman who has the same sort of goals as you do.”
“Rehabilitating their bad reputation?”
“No. She’ll need to have a good reputation to start with. Long term goals. Politics. Making a change in the world. Doing something to help people. Good publicity.”
“You almost make me sound noble.”
She picked up the sheaf of papers and took off the first few. “It’s not actually hard to make you sound noble. Despite the sleeping around with people you shouldn’t be sleeping with, you do a lot of good in the world. But we do have to do something about your sleeping around.”
“I can be more circumspect. Have you heard anything in the last few years? No. I have changed.” More or less, anyway. I wouldn’t call my recent encounters girlfriends exactly, but they were more respectable than the one-night stands and orgies of the past. It had been a while since my last affair, and it was time I found someone new. Maybe something new. Maybe a fake wife.
“Yes, I know. Now, let’s let the rest of the world know it.”
She handed me the papers, and I skimmed through them, suddenly overwhelmed with the idea that one of these women would be my wife. How was I to choose? I sat down at my desk and poured over the list. They all seemed like good candidates. “You wouldn’t put someone on this list who wasn’t good-looking, would you? Or someone who was a psycho?”
“Of course not. Good-looking is better for the optics, and mental instability is too hard to predict. These are all good women who are at the top of their game.”
“Well, then why would they agree to fake-marry me?”
“They would agree to an arranged marriage,” she said and paused as if to correct my term, “for various reasons. Some want the good publicity, some are looking for help in their career, and some are looking for a wealthy man—”
“You mean, they’re gold diggers.”
She shrugged. “And some want to do good in the world, just like you. Just pick one. We can’t go talk to them until you do, and it’s going to take some negotiation to get them on board with the plan.”
“If they were perfect for me, wouldn’t they want to marry me without all the negotiation?”
“We aren’t looking for the perfect woman for you. We’re looking for the perfect political wife for the media, the constituency, and the world. Someone with common goals who agrees to our plan is perfect. Pick someone. Then, I’ll start the communication. We won’t even know if she’ll be interested.”