It had been a long day and I was so looking forward to a hot shower and crashing for the rest of the night. Maybe some wine and ice cream. It was better than it sounded.

I was curled up on the couch, a half-empty glass on the coffee table and a bag of potato chips next to me when Livie finally got home. I scooted over, waiting for her to join me on the couch. It was our ritual when the two of us worked the same shift that we'd spend a couple hours together when we got home, just relaxing and hanging out.

I waited for a minute and when she didn't come over, I sat up, frowning. “Livie? Is everything alright?”

She was standing there, this expression on her face that I couldn't quite read. Panic flooded me. I could always read Livie. We rarely needed to talk to know what the other one was thinking. Except now, I needed to ask the question.

“What is wrong?” I got to my feet, a thousand worries flooding me. Was she sick? Had she gotten fired again? Or quit because one too many men had hit on her?

“I am getting married.”

I sat back down again, all of the strength running out of my legs. She must have said it wrong, chosen an incorrect word. We had learned English as children, but hadn't used it frequently until coming here. There were still times when we struggled with choosing the right words. This must have been one of those times.

Livie came over and sat down next to me. “Hear me out. Last night–”

“You did not come home.” I grinned when she scowled at me. It was a shaky smile, but I managed. This had to have something to do with last night's events.

“A young man came into a bar for a drink. He passed out and I took him home. I stayed to ensure he was safe.”

My grin widened and I wiggled my eyebrows at her. I knew nothing had happened. My sister did not go home with strange men or have one-night stands. It didn't make teasing her any less fun.

She glared at me as she went on with her story. “This morning, his father came to see him. The young man, Blayne Westmore, was given an ultimatum by his father. To marry or lose his inheritance. For some unknown reason, Blayne told his father that I was his fiancée.”

I stared at her. It was like something out of a soap opera. It still didn't explain, though, why she had said she was getting married.

“He came back this evening,” she said. “And proposed.”

I couldn't find the English words for what I wanted to say so I switched to our native language. “You must be joking.”

She shook her head and held out her hand. There, on her left ring finger, was the most beautiful ring I had ever seen. It was elegant and expensive. I let out a low whistle and grabbed her hand, looking at it from every angle.

“It is not romance, Kat,” she said firmly. “It is a business arrangement.”

I dropped her hand. “Explain.”

“He has agreed to pay me handsomely to marry him and maintain the lie that he told his father this morning.”

Anger flared sharply and I couldn't keep going in English. “What the hell, Livie? You were angry with me for suggesting we marry someone through an agency to secure our green cards and instead you agree to marry some random guy from a bar?”

She waited until I was done. “We have a contract,” she said. “Or at least we shall. It will be signed before the wedding on Saturday.”

My head was spinning. Had she just said she was getting married on Saturday?

“There will be no physical contact between us,” she assured me. “I am not prostituting myself. It is marriage only.”

And then she told me how much he was going to pay.

“You are going to marry this stranger?” I asked.

“Blayne Westmore,” she repeated his name.

This time, the last name clicked. “Westmore?” My eyes widened as the rest of the name registered. I let out a string of curse words in both languages.

Now it was her turn to look confused.

“Blayne Westmore is a womanizer,” I said. “He known for drinking, drugs and sleeping with all kinds of women.”

She laughed. It wasn't a full laugh, but an amused one. It was better than nothing though. “He passed out on the bar. I did not think he was a white knight, Katka.” She looked down at the ring. “You are the one who believes in such things. The one who believes in her charming prince.”

“Prince Charming,” I corrected. “And I still do not think this is a good idea.”

“I am a capable woman,” she said. “I know what I am doing.”

“And where will you live?” I asked. “Have you thought of that? If you are to convince his family that you are indeed married, you will need to live with him.”

She nodded, her eyes darting away from me, and I knew that she had already considered the living arrangements. “I will live with him, yes. He has a penthouse in the inner city and there is a guest room that will be mine.”

Sure, I thought. A guest room until he came up with some reason that she needed to sleep in his room, or he managed to 'wander into her room accidentally' and seduced her. I loved my sister and knew she had strong opinions about sex and dating. I also knew that, beneath her hard exterior, was a soft and tender heart. She was marrying Blayne for logical reasons, but I knew a part of her hadn't been able to hear a sad story and let it go. If he tried, I was sure he could manipulate her into sleeping with him.

“You can still stay here,” she continued, unaware of my thoughts. “The money he gives me on Saturday will more than cover the rent.”

“But you need it for your business.” I knew I sounded like a sullen child, but her actions worried me. She had her idea of the American dream and it was more dangerous than what she considered to be my romantic streak. I wanted to believe in true love, but I did have enough of my sister's pragmatism not to count on it. With Livie, she totally believed that her dream was attainable.

“I have already discussed this with Blayne,” she said.

I didn't like the familiar way she said his name. She didn't even know him and was talking like they were old friends... or lovers.

“The one hundred thousand dollars per year will be broken into two payments. I will receive the first half in six months, the second on our first anniversary.”

“And should he choose not to pay you?”

“When we return from our honeymoon, I will be applying for a business loan.”

I raised my eyebrow. She and I both knew how that would go.

She mirrored my expression and I caught a hint of mockery that made me smile despite myself. Whenever I caught a glimpse of the girl she had been, I couldn't help but smile.

“This time will be different,” she said. “I can use the Westmore name to secure a business loan that I will pay back with the money he pays me over the next three years.” She came over and knelt in front of me, taking my hands between hers. Her expression was earnest. “Kat, this will give us everything we have dreamed of since we were little girls. No more waiting tables or letting men leer at us while we struggle to save scraps. We will have it all.”

“But what will you need to give up for it?” I asked. I was rarely serious, but Livie's actions robbed me of my usual levity.

“Nothing,” she said dismissively. “All he wishes is for the appearance of a marriage.” Her eyes lit up. “Just think of the connections I will make as his wife.”

“They will not accept you as one of them, Livie.”

Her grip on my hands tightened minutely, the only indication that my words bothered her.

“I do not need them to consider me an equal. I will be able to design my own clothes and wear them to society and family functions.” She stood. “You will see, little Kat. This will be a great thing, for both of us.”

I knew that tone. She'd made up her mind and there would be no talking her out of it.

“I am going to shower and then I will be out to hear about your day.”

I waited until the bathroom door closed behind her before letting out a loud sigh. This was such a bad idea. Livie was smart. Like gifted smart, but I knew that didn't always translate into common sense. Most of the time she was the most grounded person I knew, but she'd always had this blind spot when it came to her idea of what our lives in America should be. Unlike a lot of the girls in the orphanage who had dreamed of coming to America, a husband had never factored into the picture, only her dream business.

I pulled my feet up onto the couch and tucked them under me as I reached for my wine glass. I emptied it and then poured myself another. I needed some time to think about this. As much as I wanted Livie to get everything she ever wanted, I didn't trust this Blayne Westmore to keep his end of the bargain. I just needed to figure out a way to convince her of this.

Before Saturday.