Istared up at the child in Rafayel's arms, my brain grappling with the incongruity. Was this kid... his son?

But then the boys cheerful reply to Rafayel said itall. “Oh, yeah, dad, I had a really goodday at kinder."

Rafayel cradled the boy,and his demeanor softened when he looked to me.

“Let me tell you about AuntLeslie,” he said, turning his attention to me.

"Mom?" he saidexcitedly, his eyes shining with hope.

The questionblindsided me, hitting me hard. Was he actually asking meto be his mother?

Before I even had time toformulate a response, the boy nodded enthusiastically and burst out, "Yes, please!"

Rafayel bent and whisperedsomething to him, then turned back to me.

“Why don’t you go play withUncle Raymond for a while? I need to talk to Aunt Leslie aboutsomething,” he said kindly.

When the boy ran off to play, Rafayelsaid something I couldn’t quite decipher. He motioned for me to follow him into his extravagant mansion, where he plucked a bottle of expensivewine I had only glimpsed in my grandfather’s home. I wasconfused, however, struggling to understand.

Why had he brought me here? What could he possibly want?

I sipped the glass of wine, drinkingit to mellows my rattled nerves.

Damn it, I thought. What kind of life had Irene’s treachery thrownme into?

Interviewing Rafayel felt like attemptingto read a decipher an ancient, cryptic manuscript, his eyes unblinking and unwavering.

His inscrutable expression gave nothing away, thoughtsand intentions swaddled like a fogged-in night. And my instincts told me totread lightly, that this strange man would take a little extra finesse.The silence before him stretched long and thick, untilhe finally said something, his voice a low gravelly whisper.

“You’re all wonderingif I’m married?” he asked, the burden ofthe unspoken question heavy between us.

I was barely able to muster a timid nod, unsure ofwhere this conversation was headed.

“Yes, that’s gone through my head,” I mumbled,my voice low.

He interruptedme, a cutting bitterness in his tone.

“I’m a widower,” he said, hissound heavy with sorrow. “My wife… she passed away not long after our firstchild was born."

The room seemed tovibrate with the silent grief that clouded the air. I could almost diagram the ghosts of his pain traced upon his face, a blue, abidingreminder of a loss time had failed to mitigate.

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” I said, the clichéd words carrying false resonance, yet the sympathy itselftrue.

Rafayel reclined, his visionary eyesin deep thought.

“You see,” he started, “myparents have been after me about something.

I felt a sense of curiosity andurged him to go on. "What about?"

He let out a sigh, his shoulders slumpinga bit.

“They’ve been persistent,” he said, some annoyance creeping intohis voice. “They are desperate for another grandchild,apparently.”

Rafayel’s expression turned calculatingbut his gaze was fixed on mine.

“I havea proposition that will work out well for both of us,” he said, his tone low and even.

My eyebrows furrowed, curious butcautious. "What do you mean?"

“Well,” he said, a cunning smile spreading acrosshis face,

“I’m trying to figure out how do I please myparents and have my independence. They do want meto marry again, but I’m not ready to lose my freedom yet. So, I offer you a deal."

Rafayel sat up straight, hiseyes focused. “I want a wife on paper, a wife that satisfies my parents andkeeps my parents off my back. But my life,as you might imagine, is somewhat... unconventional. I won’t commit to being loyalor exclusive.”

My heart pounding in my chest, and I wasconflicted and scared.

“What on earth are yousaying?” I said, myvoice scarcely a whisper.

"If you play alongand pretend to be my wife,” he said in a low rumbling voice, “I will pay you the sum of one hundred million dollars every month.”

My jaw dropped, disbelief battlingshock in my head. “One hundred milliondollars a month?”

My head spun as I attemptedto comprehend the sum of money Rafayel was proposing to pay me. A hundred million dollarsa month was a mind-boggling number to me, something beyond my experience.

Anxiety gnawed within me, as Igrappled with the notion that it would accumulate to a billion dollars annually. That’s atotally disgusting amount of money.

Rafayelexamined my face, looking for any hesitation or unwillingness at all. He sat leaned overwith his eyes on me.

“Well, what’sit going to be, Leslie? Do you agreeto act as my spouse for one hundred million dollars per month?"

Thequestion felt like a spotlight cast suddenly on my most intimate corners, raw, exposed.

“Shall we discuss this?” Manage, I managed, myvoice little more than a whisper, tinged with a kind of unease.

“Definitely,” he said, quickly, in aclipped, business-like tone.

Doubts swirled in my head but all I could manage to askwas, “But why me? We barely know each other."

Rafayel smiled a crookedsmile. “It’s notreally about knowing you. I’vealready checked you out.” After all,it’s just business, right? You’re the only thing that fits for thepart.’

Rafayel's face became soberedup and he nodded while the other continued.

“I’ma responsible man, in fact. Youknow last night I may have had one too many and we ended up in the same prop room. It was merely a temporary lapse injudgement. That will not happen in the future, I promise. He paused, and looked straight into myeyes. I’m going to lay out abusiness proposal that serves you and me. ”

All the memories from the previousnight came rushing back and I instinctively bit my bottom lip, panic edging upwards as every second went by.

Rafayel’s words weretrue; there was likely a chance I was pregnant with his child. And if that were true, I knewthat my mom would yell at me, and Irene and Grandma would be sure to make my life even worse.

"Alright, let's do it. Just make sure you are good to your wordabout the money,” I said, my voice quavering slightly.

“Of course, it’s a promise,” he assured, his voice soft and full ofconfidence. “I told you I was going to give you one hundred million dollars a month, so you’re gonna get thatone hundred million dollars from me every month. Let’s write upa contract to set out the terms and conditions, if that makes you more comfortable.”

Rafayel took out hisphone and punched in a number.

“David,” he said into the receiver,“I need you to bring the contract we talked about.” Yes, right away." He hung upand refocused on me. "It'll only be a moment. My lawyer is bringingthe contract for us to sign.”

A short time later, a man in a sharp suit stood at the door,holding a leather briefcase.

“Ah, David,” Rafayel saidas he waved him in. David nodded and moved deeper into the room, placing the briefcase downon the table and opening it to reveal a pile of papers and a marriage book.

“Thisis the contract,” David said, handing me a pen. "Please sign both documents."

My heart racedin my chest as I stared at the two documents in front of me. One was the contract, detailing the termsof our business partnership, and the other was the marriage book.

I took a deep breath and signed them; I knew very well that signing the paperswould attach me to Rafayel in an unusual and strange manner.

With trembling hand I took thepen and signed both documents. It was now my fate to be bound up with Rafayel's, forgood or ill.

The tiny smile on Rafayel's face as he hands over the shiny, new ATMcard lets me know he is very, very pleased.

"Here yougo, he said, holding out the card. “This is thefirst money you will spend. Use itas you like."

I was holding the black ATM cardin my hand, still somewhat shellshocked.

That’s when Rafayel asked aquestion that pulled me back to earth. “Do you want to go home and tell your mom what happened with us, or do you want to go home with me and explain thingstogether?”

“I’d rather she hear it from me,” I said softly, and myfingers tightened around the handle of my bag.

I slid the ATM card far inside, the heft of it a constant report that Iwas doing all the wrong things.

Rafayel’s sympathetic nod gave me a small measure ofrelief, but I still felt anxiety twisting in my gut. An attired gentleman appeared on cue,ready for his orders.

“Take her home,” declares Rafayel, firm,authoritative. The man noddedright away, and soon we were off.

I whispereda low "thank you" to Rafayel and turned before I finished. But rightas I was leaving, he called out to me again.

To my shock, he tooka step closer, bent down, and kissed the top of my head softly. I flinched and took a step back, myheart hammering in my chest.

"Take care, wife." He mumbled.

I stepped into the hall as my mind scurried through thought after thought inan attempt to steady my wildly pounding heart.

What had possessed Rafayel to kiss the top ofmy head like that?