"What's the problem? You can have everything you've ever wanted. And all you have to do is marry me."

"Marriage is forever, not a contract, Sebastian," she scolds.

I wave my hand in front of my face. "Not in my world. And we won't even be married for thirty days. We can annul it, and it'll be like it never even happened—except you'll be $100,000 richer with resources to chase your dream. Win for me. Win for you."

It's like I can see the wheels in her mind spinning.

She's too wholesome.

I can't wait to make her spread her legs for me.

I lean closer. "Think about it. People can be paying for all those cupcakes instead of you slaving away for free."

"Not everything is about money, Sebastian."

I scoff. "Everything's about money, Georgia. If it wasn't, then why do you want to open a bakery? Hmm?"

"None of your business," she reprimands, then turns her head and stares out the window, biting her lip.

"Georgia," I say, my tone demanding.

She turns back, locking her innocent blues on mine.

"This is your shot at having exactly what you want. All you have to do is work for it in a little different way."

"What, by sleeping with you?" she blurts out.

I can't hold my cockiness back. I smirk. "You don't like sex?"

Her face turns as red as a cherry. She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.

All it makes me think of is fisting her hair and shoving my dick between those plump, pink lips. I drag my fingers over the back of her hand.

She squirms in her seat and scoots it away from the table.

I firmly question, "$100,000, Georgia. What's it going to be?"

She rises, scolding, "This isn't right, Sebastian. This is warped."

I chuckle. "As long as I get what I want, I don't care what you call it. It's a deal on paper to me. Nothing more."

"We'd be lying to everybody—your family...the people who love you!" she exclaims.

I rise, voicing, "I told you what I don't want to deal with when I go home. Stop judging me. Go think about it for a few hours. Smell your cupcakes and think about your dreams instead of putting obstacles in front of them. No one gets ahead in life by not seizing the opportunities they're given. You've got until noon. I don't have time to deal with your wishy-washy ideals."

She huffs. "They aren't wishy-washy ideals. You just dropped a bomb on me."

"Yeah, that's life. Deal with it."

Hurt fills her expression.