I couldn’t believe I was actually going to go through with this. I stared at myself in my large mirror, trying to make sure like I wasn’t looking shabby, or trying too hard.

Benson was sitting in a sofa chair in my room, legs crossed, scratching his chin as he studied me.

“Dude, stop standing like that. Your confidence levels shouldn’t be this low. You know your high balance bank account and good looks will get any girl you want. Seriously, I don’t even know why you’re still single,” Benson boasted, rocking his leg and waving his hand about in a nonchalant way.

I turned around, balancing on my cane. “Haven’t you seen the limp? Plus, when it comes to stuff like… getting intimate, I don’t know how a woman might respond to my scars…” I trailed off and looked at myself once more.

Beyond the good looks was someone who was still a bit broken. I even had this silly thought that there might still be someone out there for me. Too bad I lost the only sweetheart I had had, quite a while ago.

Wendy Monroe…

“Sam?! Earth to Sam!” Benson called out louder, slapping me on the back.

“Oh? Sorry. Was going down memory lane,” I said, smiling.

“I knew you went somewhere else. But you gotta have more faith in yourself,” he said, pointing to my chest. “You might even get a real wife out of this,” he suggested.

I shook my head. “No. She’s only going to be doing this for the money. Whoever she is.”

I tugged at my jacket once more and limped over to my dresser drawer to get my wallet for the evening.

“Well, try to have some fun. Good luck on your date—”

“Meeting,” I corrected.

“Whatever, I call it date. Now have fun, drive safely.”

Benson followed me out of the house and jumped into his McLaren, speeding off.

“Funny, he should take his advice about driving safely…” I said to myself as I watched him peel off.

In my hand was the keys to a different car today. Even though I didn’t feel up to the task of propping myself up too much, I decided to at least arrive in style with my Ferrari. It was a simple silver matte color, and it was going to give me hell to get in and out of it.

“Oh well, here it goes,” I said, opening the winged doors and throwing my cane inside. After some careful maneuvering, I was all situated and pressed the button that revved the engine to life.

It was like having the Italian chorus and orchestra directly behind you. The engines oozed power and speed. Not that I bought it for that, I rarely went over fifty in this car. Rather, I bought it for the history of the car, and out of respect of how and why it was built. Enzo had a good grip on cars it seemed.

I began my leisurely drive down into the city. For some reason it was still on my mind that I could turn back and turn down this meeting, date, whatever Benson called it. But then I remembered the banker, Mr. Johnston, and the loan the bank wanted back before things got out of hand.

Then it was Mr. Gallock and the promise of millions before us. Things were lining up, almost as if to say that I better take this chance or else.

I was almost inside city limits when a car sped by me. They were a bunch of teenagers, begging to befall the same fate I endured a few years ago. Their speeding car rounding the corner gave me a heart attack. It was too close to hitting me.

Beeeeep, beeeep!

Cars beeped from behind me, shaking me out of my trauma induced panic attack.

“Fuck,” I cursed, rubbing my forehead. I drove off, and in minutes, found myself staring at Madame Rousseau’s Building of Amour. A tad gratuitous with the French, isn’t she? I thought.

I had the valet park my car and limped inside.

“There you are! Right on time.” Eliza greeted me with open arms, sashaying down the steps to meet me.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Rousseau.”

She took me by the arm and led me down a black hall, lighted by only sparkles and specks of lights on the ceiling and walls.

“Nice work here…” I wasn’t sure how to compliment the walls without sounding cheesy.

“Thank you, dear. It was my idea ever since the building was built. Custom built,” she corrected herself.

We turned a few corners, and ended up coming out onto a grand dining hall that shared the same elegance as the rest of her building I’ve seen so far.

“Wow, impressive. That’s a lot of crystals you have going on here,” I said, noting the chandeliers that hung above and the crystal glasses and plates on the tables. The tablecloths themselves were a rich velvet lined with black, and the seats looked plush.

“She’s right over there.” Eliza pointed, and began to drag me off to meet her.

Stopping a few feet from her, Eliza hung back. The place was dimly lit and all I could see was a silhouette shrouded in darkness.

“I’ll be right here,” Eliza said, as if trying to sound reassuring and encouraging. “Go get yourself acquainted, and once you’re comfortable, call me over and we’ll speak more about the arrangement.”

Eliza released my arm and floated off to another table to sit down. The girl waiting at the table had her back faced to me. I could still barely make her out in the dim light. All I could tell at first was that she had a lovely neck. Her short blond hair was in a flip that reminded me of the style that someone I used to know… someone dear to me… used to wear hers in.

As I approached her, my heart began to beat harder. I had no idea how any of this would turn out. I had no idea I’d ever be buying a temporary wife, but, here I was.

“Excuse me,” I said, getting her attention.

She turned around, and my heart leapt out of my chest through my throat and ran the other way.

“Wendy?!” I gasped.

Shit.

Her eyes went wide and she jumped out of her seat.

“Sam!” She looked around. “Wait, you’re my date?” she asked, her mouth hanging open.

“Y-yes. I…” I was lost for words. Or rather, they were clogging my throat like a clogged drain. There were so many things I wanted to say to her.

“No, I— I can’t do this. Not with you!” She walked around me, her now curvaceous hips swaying side to side in that deliciously tight dress.

Eliza got up from her table. “Stop, Ms. Monroe. You cannot walk out on Mr. Reign here. Or else you’ll forfeit working with me.”

Wendy’s shoulders dropped. “What?”

“Monsieur Reign is a good man,” Eliza took her by the shoulders and brought her back to me. She wouldn’t look me in the eyes though. “Please. Give him a chance.”

Now that she was closer, I had a better look at her. Damn, she was perfect. Her breasts were a bit fuller than I remembered them being, in that dress, her hips were gorgeous, and for the first time, my cock got a little irritated in my pants.

Her eyes flickered at mine, and trailed down to my cane.

“Fine,” she whispered.