I stared at Austin in shock as I processed what he'd said. Slowly sipping my tea, I gave his suggestion some thought while we sat there in a companionable silence. After I'd drained my cup and no longer had a prop to hide behind, I leaned forward and carefully set my cup on one of the coasters that were neatly stacked at the edge of his desk.

Hugging my knees to my chest—or my gut, to be precise—I shook my head. "Austin, you're beyond sweet and generous to offer something like that, but who would believe it anyway? For heaven's sake, we only just met last night."

Austin's eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he digested what I was saying. It wasn't that the idea of marrying him was repugnant, I just didn't want to take advantage of the guy. If I'd met him when I was single and not pregnant as hell, I would've been eager to go out with him.

Shit, the man looked like the twin of the guy who played Jon Snow on my favorite medieval show—but better, since Austin also wore sexy Clark Kent style glasses and had an adorable nerd vibe to balance his good looks. And looks aside, he’d shown himself to be articulate, funny, and charming. Even without his undoubtedly large bank account, this alpha would've been anyone's Prince Charming.

In another life I probably would've fallen head over heels for him—after an appropriate amount of dates, of course. But I'd never have that life. Instead, I was a few short months away from becoming a father. While I'd never regret this little piece of Josh that lived on inside me, I also wouldn't saddle this kindhearted alpha with another man's child.

Austin shifted in his chair, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the desk. "The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. And who cares when we met? I certainly don't. If you don't, then it's a non-issue because the only people who will be involved in this marriage of convenience are the two of us. Our opinions are the only ones that mean anything."

"It's not just a matter of how long we’ve known each other." I waved a hand. "I'm not going to take advantage of you, Austin. It's as simple as that. And I'm definitely not going to let you get tied into this whole marriage of convenience idea where you’d get stuck footing the bills for my pregnancy, even if you can afford it. I'm not willing to watch you suffer because the insurance companies are ridiculous."

"Owen, just hear me out." He took his glasses off and set them aside, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he gathered his thoughts. "You need help and I’m able to offer it. Whether you accept my offer or not, I would still want to help you pay for whatever bills I could talk you into letting me cover. You've had a tough go of it this year and I can afford to help you, if you’ll just let me. I know it's weird to think about marrying a perfect stranger, even if it's only on paper. But if we did that, the insurance company would have to accept you because you’d be my spouse."

I rolled my eyes. "I can't just let you pay my way; don't you get that? I don't want to take your charity. You don't know what it's like to grow up in foster care where you’re constantly reminded that you’re not part of their family and how every bite you put in your mouth and each scrap of clothing you wear on your back is solely thanks to the benevolence of the one who’s currently being paid to take care of you. I vowed when I aged out of the system that I would always stand on my own two feet, and that nobody would have to be stuck with me again. So far, I've done just that. I know things look bad for me right now, but trust me—I'll bounce back. I always have, and I always will."

Austin winced, but kept pushing. "I figured that's probably what you were thinking, so how about this then—we'll get married on paper, but you can still work for me if that makes you feel better." He looked around his pristine office. It hadn't escaped my notice that every room in his house was perfectly organized and clean—it was as if dust were afraid to even show its filthy face in his presence. I snorted, biting back a serious case of giggles at the next words to come out of his mouth. "You can just… I don’t know, dust or something. You know, do a little light housekeeping, if it makes you feel like you're paying your own way."

"I'm not saying yes." I held up my hand before he could distract me from finishing my thought. "But I'm also thinking that you're going to keep this up until you wear me down, aren’t you? So I have one question for you. If I were to agree to this whole marriage of convenience idea, would you at least be willing to let me sign a prenup? Because fake or not, if we are married, I'd have access to your money and I don't need your family to think that's what I'm after."

"You're amazing." Austin chuckled. "Not only am I having to barter and wheedle to get you to accept my help, but you're probably the first person in history to insist upon a prenup which favors the other person rather than yourself. But sure, if it’ll put your mind at ease then I'll have my attorneys draw one up, and I’m adding in a part where it’s my job to take care of you, because I have a bad feeling you’re going to be stubborn when it comes to letting me protect you."

"I didn't say yes yet, Austin," I reminded him. "Besides, I'm still really not comfortable with the idea of committing insurance fraud."

"Owen," Austin groaned with a patient smile. "Let me put it to you like this. You will be living in my house… cleaning said house, and probably even helping to cook meals, right?" At my nod, he flashed me a smug smile. "Well, the only difference between doing all of that and being a husband is a piece of paper and sex. I don't require sex, but the piece of paper will mean the difference for you and your baby." He pouted playfully, giving me the cutest case of puppy dog eyes I'd ever seen. "Let me help your son, Owen. Like Houston said, won't somebody think of the children?"

"Fine," I said with a groan as if I were the one being put out by his generous offer. "You'd better call your attorney, though. I mean it, Austin. I'm not marrying you until after I’ve signed that prenuptial agreement."

"I'll get it handled right now, and we can probably get married tomorrow. I would say today, but I need to get to the hospital and meet Rose, my newest niece." He stretched across the desk, holding his phone out to show me a picture on the screen of an adorable newborn in a pink knitted hat and swaddled in a blanket.

"She's precious." I smiled, then wagged my finger at him again. "And you’d better make sure your attorneys put in the agreement that I'm not entitled to one penny of your money when we eventually divorce. And if, God forbid, anything should happen to you, I want it noted that the estate goes to your rightful heirs, not me as your legal spouse." I felt silly, making such a big deal out of the money—but I wanted to make it clear that I had no designs on his bank account.

Austin merely lifted a brow as he put his phone back down. "While I'm at it, shall I have them list everything else we discussed? Am I supposed to kick you out on your ass at some point if you forget to dust or don't help with cooking?" He slid his glasses back on as he continued to tease. "And maybe I should also have them include an ironclad clause about sex not being on the table? I mean, if I'm to be protected, it should probably also be clear in black and white that you're not allowed to ask for sex, right? After all, I wouldn’t want to be taken advantage of in my sleep or something."

"You're impossible." I giggled. "I feel like you're trying to get me to tell you to just forget the whole prenup idea by shocking me with that sex clause." Dropping my legs, I scooted to the edge of the chair and leaned forward. "But see, here's what you don't know about me. I like a challenge, and I don't get embarrassed that easily. In fact, you can just go ahead and put your sex clause in. I'll still sign the document with a flourish."

You’re a dirty liar, Josh’s voice taunted in my head. You’re going to blush like a chimney on fire if you have to sign something with a sex clause.

"I'm almost tempted to, just to see the look on my stuffy-assed attorney's face," Austin said with a chuckle. He picked up his phone and scrolled through his contacts while he muttered under his breath, still chuckling. "Sex clause. I've got your sex clause—hanging."

I leaned back in my chair and examined my fingernails with a detached expression on my face. “Sorry, but in my experience, that hanging thing you’re referring to is probably more along the lines of a dangling participle, if you feel the need to brag.”