I think minutes passed. Harry merely glared at me like he was waiting for me to say something obvious, but I was a newfound mute.

He fucking knew – How?

"Come on," He then finally said, after whole minutes of stunned silence on my behalf. He calmly sipped his glass of wine and lowered his gaze. "I spend all day working on some of the hardest mathematical problems out there, and you really thought I didn't know that my brother hired you to sleep with me in hopes I might get you pregnant?" He smiled crookedly. "And who said vasectomies were unappealing."

I couldn't believe this. So much for my deep cover. And all of the money I was promised. "If you knew, why didn't you send me away at the door?" I found my voice at last. He was right; He was smart, so there was really no point in playing dumb here. 

"Because," he simply responded, "I want to offer you twice the money my brother is paying you to report back to him and say that we are sleeping together."

My eyes widened in even more shock. That was a twist I didn't see coming. "What?"

"Which part are you questioning, Ms Berry?"

Uh. All of it. "You want me to lie to your brother?"

"Didn't he do the same thing to me?" He pointed out. "As did you. You came here under false pretense with the intentions of having my baby. I suggest you either take my money and report back to my brother that you're sleeping with me, or that you get out of here penniless. The choice is yours."

"But... why?" I asked, trying to keep my mind in order. Was this really happening? "Why would you give me such an offer? Why not just send me away and save a fortune? I mean, what's your gain in this... twisted shit?" I thought he would've beat me up by now. I mean, I would've. Baby-trapping men for money was probably the lowest reason to get a child.

"Money is a game for us, Cassandra." He impassively started. "My brother has enough to sustain the next six of his generations, but he can't actually do that without an heir. The money would go to our cousin should both of us die without one. He hates our cousin," He dryly chuckled and finished his wine. "He'd rather pay a woman exorbitant amounts of cash to sleep with his brother for an heir, than hand over his legacy to our next of kin. And that, to me, is by far the best entertainment; To watch my brother so desperate, he'd try and turn his own brother into a breeder. That's my gain."

"So let me get this straight," I replied. "You're not interested in sex?"

"In general or with you?"

"With me," I bit. 

He slowly smiled and then shook his head. "No."

Alright then. Ouch. "But you are interested in spending tons of money on paying me to tell your brother that we are sleeping together? Even though we're not... All for your own amusement?"

"That's correct."

I stared at him for a long moment. That was the most insane form of humor I'd ever heard of. "You're crazy."

"Said the woman who accepted an eight figure check to sleep with a man she'd never met." He parried. 

I leaned back in my chair. "Alright, touché. So what now then? Since we're not gonna fuck, what am I supposed to do here? Just hang around?"

"I honestly couldn't care," He said and now poured himself a new glass of wine, chugging down three big sips. "Pardon me if I don't seem empathic, but you were trying to con me into knocking you up. What you do from here on out I couldn't care less about, as long as you keep reporting back to my brother. At the end of the summer, you leave and take your money with you, and I never see you here again. Go buy yourself a new life. I'll take care of my brother."

I folded my arms over my chest and observed him. "Just like that, huh?"

"Just like that."

"You're going to pay me to not sleep with you, do nothing all summer and to lie to your spermless brother?"

He gave a dry chuckle, but then stood up, taking his wine glass and the bottle with him. "Enjoy your stay here, Ms Berry. Try not to disturb the peace too much."

I snorted lightly, but then watched as he left the dining room, bottoming his glass again. I rolled my eyes and pushed my own chair out. 

I couldn't comprehend what just happened, but my life just got a whole lot easier. He was basically paying me to abuse his indoor pool and rape his massage table for the most absurd reason I'd ever heard. And I wouldn't even have to sacrifice my body for nine months.

These brothers were crazy.

But, I just couldn't care. I was going to be rich, and all I had to do was give a convincing white lie to another rich man. 

I laughed; Easiest money I'd ever made.

~~~

"The sex is good," I told, lying on the lounger outside on his lawn, soaking up the sun and nurturing the tan I had grown over the last three weeks. "I think he's really getting into it. He's not as resistant as he was in the beginning, plus he finally trusts me enough to start losing the rubber. I'm pretty sure he'll have pumped a baby into me by the end of next month."

Lying was the easy part. The guilt was the harder. But frankly, these brothers were much more fucked up than me, so I could give a damn about the guilt. They were raging a family war, and I was just the money-hungry bitch that benefited from it. If I had any decency left, I would've said screw them and left them to their immature fighting, but I didn't. Because the money was way better than that. 

By now I'd learned the brothers weren't the best of friends, but why that was, I didn't know. It obviously wasn't because of legacy and who got the money, as rich people usually fought about. Harry seemed uninterested in the legacy and the concept of continuing the family, whereas Richard was obsessed enough to hire... well, me. And in there lied the mystery; Why didn't Harry want to continue their bloodline?

After my weekly call to Richard wherein I reported Harry and I's 'sexual activity', I laid the phone down and turned my head up to the sun again. Of course it was all lies every word I told him, as per me and Harry's agreement, because the truth was the furthest thing from.

During the three weeks I had now been here, I had run into him five times – and one of the times had merely been spotting him enter his study, catching a glimpse of his brown hair before the door closed. I had no idea what he kept in there or how he made full days go by, locked inside that room, but he did. And that left me alone in a very big house. 

The mansion turned out to be a hotel in disguise, since it held everything from a sauna to an indoor, underground pool, not to mention the pool table and bar room that I had stumbled upon one lonesome night. The staff that worked here and kept the house clean and tidy were very nice and didn't mind spending some hours with me, talking and playing card games in the kitchen. The chef even let me help cook dinner sometimes. If they knew why I was here in the first place, they didn't show it. 

I was being treated incredibly well for someone who was taking a lot of money for serving lies, so I really wasn't in any place to have any complaints. But I did. 

Sighing a little, I sat up in my lounger and looked down at my reasonably tanned body. There was only so much you could do with the Canadian sun.

I had a little more than two months left in this place and it was boring as hell. It was lovely to relax, but there was only so much swimming and reading one could do before even that became boring. I never thought I'd say it, but I had grown tired of relaxing. 

Slipping my feet into my flip flops, I walked back inside his giant house, making my way through it to his office. I knew he hadn't implicitly told me to not disturb him, but if the past three weeks had been any clue, he didn't want my company. I had actually begun to wonder if he was deliberately avoiding me, waking up before dawn and going to bed long after midnight just to avoid running into me. But could I really blame him?

I stopped silently in front of his door and hesitated only for a second before knocking thrice. 

After a couple of moments, I heard his call that I could enter, and so I did—and was then met by a number of different sights that left me stunned and confused, as to which one I should absorb first. 

I started with the best one; behind his desk, standing by a giant blackboard, Harry was writing down complicated-looking equations and formulas, undisturbed by my intrusion. He merely glanced over his shoulder once before turning back to his blackboard, continuing to talk into what I now saw was an earpiece in his ear. But what made him the best sight in the room was that he wasn't wearing a shirt.

My mouth, pussy and mind watered at the sight of his muscular back working while he wrote. I hadn't been wrong the first day when I assumed his casual clothes had hid a toned body. His muscles bulged nicely in a not overly-done fashion and contoured his body so that you knew he took care of it. Purely from his posture, you could tell that years spent bent over math papers hadn't obstructed him from pushing in a workout here and there. He was smart, but he was fit. 

I was so absorbed by the sight that was him that I hardly noticed the entire mess that was his study, which also happened to be the second magnificent sight. 

Covered everywhere in books, files, giant stacks of both scrolls, maps and sheets of loose paper, it was the epitome of a workaholic's nest. The entire life of Harold Xavier Devon was in this room, including himself, who now turned around to fully face me, blessing me the view of his torso. The stereotypical look of a dork did certainly not apply to him, but then again, this was the 21st century; Dorks could be hot. 

And Harry Devon certainly was hot. 

"Do you need anything?" He asked me when I had been standing in the door for quite some time now, soaking up everything. I blinked when he took out his earpiece, ending the call.

"I just wanted to see what you were doing," I said, closing the door and quietly coming in. "You do realize it's summer outside, right? Sun's out, air's warm... perfect weather for a drink."

"I'm working," He replied, now turning back to his blackboard and picking up his chalk again. "The sun will be there again tomorrow and the day after that, as will the opportunity for a drink. My concentration won't be."

Damn, okay. I crossed my arms over my chest and watched him write complicated lines of math onto the blackboard with the crisp white chalk. "Has anyone ever told you you work a little too much?"

"I believe they mentioned that when I accepted my second millennium prize."

Show-off. "So why don't you ever take a break and kick back? Relax a little. Unwind."

"And sleep with you?" He shot me a flat glance, to which I pursed my lips. "Don't tell me my brother got to you again and offered you more money. At this point, I don't even think that's possible."

"You know, as rich assholes come, your brother is the kinder," I bit. I know I hadn't given him the best impression, but did I really appear that shallow? 

"Then take his offer. But you won't be seeing a dime of his money."

"Because you won't be fucking me?"

"Bingo."

I scoffed and sat down on his desk, crossing my legs. I was only wearing my bikini, which was about as flimsy as they came since I had been prepared to seduce when I got here, but now it only served the purpose of revealing everything to a man who paid his blackboard full of chalk more attention.

"Do you really think I'm that awful?" I asked. I might as well know upfront, even if I felt as if I knew the answer already.

"I will let the evidence speak for itself," He replied, not even bothering enough to put inflection into his voice. He was deep within his math problem and I watched him glance down at the papers in his hand before writing some more on the board. 

"So just because I took your brother's offer, I'm an unredeemable bitch?" I rebuked. 

"I think you have some very nice qualities to someone who's interested in them," He turned and shot me a brief glare as he picked something else up from his desk, the one I was sitting on. "it just so happens that none of those people are in this room, Ms Berry."

I was offended. Actually offended. I came here as the conceiving bitch, sure, but the second the jig was up, I hadn't bothered to try and pretend like I was something else than what I was; a broke girl, in need of some money. He could judge me for the way I tried to get it, but he couldn't judge me for trying to improve my life. 

"You're an actual prick," I declared, getting up from the desk when he leafed through some of his papers without regarding me with a single glance. "All that brain, but nothing to show for it. Fine, I'm a bitch, but at least I stand by it instead of pretending that I'm not a ceremonious asshole who thinks winning over his brother by outsmarting him equals being the better one," I turned and left for the door, but I saw him lift his head and shoot a look after me. "Sorry for disturbing the peace."

I slammed the door on the way out, because I was angry, and even though I shouldn't be allowed to be, I was. 

I knew I was the villain here. Or at least that's how he saw me, and for that I couldn't blame him. I came here to trick him into having his baby, and anyone would've been mad if they discovered that their life had just been rigged up by their own brother. 

But he saw through it, didn't he? He somehow found out, and the minute he told me, I stopped being that person. But not to him. I would probably always be the bitch who tried to ruin his life, and that was his prerogative to feel that way.

I angrily marched up to my room, knowing full and well my anger was misplaced. But was it, though?

Any person with an IQ would've asked what my motive had been for taking that offer. Even someone as resentful as Harry should've asked himself the question of why a person would agree to such a thing. I was a bitch for saying yes, but he couldn't call me that before he had assessed my own reasons. Didn't I even deserve the benefit of the doubt?

Going into my room, I laid down on my bed and closed my eyes. I was still mad, but I was in no mood to deal with it. Sleeping it off was my only option. 

Exhaling a calming breath, I curled up and pushed the books on my bed away to get more space to stretch out on. It was too hot for sheets, but I still pulled them over my exposed body. 

Fuck him, I thought. Fuck Harry Xavier Devon and his narrow mind. 

~~~

The next morning, like all mornings, I slept in and got served breakfast in bed by one of the sweet servants working there. A selection of jams for my fluffy pancakes, as well as butter, syrup and sugar was nicely plated on a silver tray with feet and got settled over my lap as I was reading. I smiled to Giselle, as her name was, the French kitchen maid who had been working for Harry for three years, she had told. 

Still in my night shirt and lace panties, I was halfway through my breakfast and morning coffee when there was a knock on the door. I yelled come in, thinking it was one of the other maids arriving with fresh towels. But it wasn't.

As the door opened, I nearly choked on my coffee when I saw none other than Harry himself enter my room. He regarded me with a look, deeming my appearing appropriate enough, before coming further in and crossing his arms. Today he wore a plain white button up shirt with brown slacks and winged tips. 

"I'll be leaving the house this morning," He told, watching me sit more straight up and putting my breakfast tray to the side. "I'm meeting up with someone and won't be back until this afternoon."

"Okay," I simply replied. What else was I supposed to say?

He turned to leave, seemingly only coming in here to inform me of that, but just as I turned to pick up my book again, he paused by the door. 

"I'm not a forgiving man, Ms Berry," He suddenly said. I lifted my eyes and looked at him with a raised brow. "I answer to logic, and forgiveness is not logical when the situation is unforgivable."

He moved to open the door, but just then, I sat up. "If a man shoots a dog, is he a horrible person?"

He paused in the door again and I saw him slowly turn his head towards me. "That's not a sensible question."

"Answer it anyway; is he a bad person?"

"The variables within the question are too unspecific," He told, turning his head back towards the door. "One would need more information about the dog, the guy and the situation to determine whether or not the act of shooting it is deemed bad within the sense of logic."

"Exactly," I said. 

He opened the door, but once again halted at my words. I saw his eyebrows twitch, and turning his eyes towards me, he looked at me for another short moment. I stared right back, unwavering. 

His eyes then clipped away, and with nothing more, he walked out the door and closed it behind him. I fell back into my bed, but pursed my lips as I heard his retreating footsteps outside. 

"Exactly," I repeated silently, before picking up my book again and continued to read. 

~~~

He was gone all day, as promised, and didn't return until the late afternoon. I was just coming up from the downstairs pool, wrapping a towel around myself, when he walked inside and spotted me coming up from the basement in my skimpy bikini. 

Stopping in his tracks briefly, he glanced at me as I halted as well, still slightly dripping from the water. He looked me up and down with a short look, then turned his eyes away again and started walking down the hall. "Have you ever heard of proper dress wear, Ms Berry?"

"No," I feigned to his amusement, glancing after him. "What's proper dress wear?"

He wisely didn't comment, but merely continued onwards towards his office, holding two thick briefcases. But I could've sworn I saw his lips twitch. 

Smirking to myself, I then walked towards the kitchen after he was gone, where I found the staff preparing dinner. Clam bisque and homemade garlic bread for starters and a seared tuna steak for the main course. 

"Smells good in here," I said and walked towards the chef, Jean. He greeted me with a smile as I came up to his pot that was simmering on the stove. "Can I have a taste?"

"It needs to cook for another two hours, but you can tell me if the creaminess is there," He offered and found a clean spoon from one of the drawers. I grinned and then watched with impatience as he poured a little on and let me blow on it before tasting it. 

This was what money could buy you; fresh scallops and clams that tasted so fresh, you hardly tasted the saltwater at all. "God, that's amazing. I'm gonna need the recipe for that."

Jean chuckled and I then moved on from the kitchen, quickly asking the maids to bring me a clean towel to shower off the pool water before dinner. I then ventured up into my room and took myself a long, hot shower. 

I was a neat freak when it came to cleaning my body, meaning all hair below the neck had to go, and all hair above it had to be rinsed and soaped twice. I had long brown hair that went down to the middle of my back, and thanks to some great exotic ancestor I never knew, it had some thickness to it and a tiny bit of texture. My skin was the color of cream, but had a soft warm glow to it, thanks to the weeks spent lying under the sun. I looked sun-kissed and healthy, like I had just come home from a vacation in the Bahamas. 

Coming out of the shower, I toweled my hair dry and moisturized my face and body before dressing in some comfortable cotton shorts and a loose t-shirt. I didn't bother with a bra until dinner and therefore curled up in my bed with my book again. I found my worksheet and continued working on what would hopefully get me to where I needed to be.

I had always hated studying, but mostly because it had always come down to numbers in the end. And I wasn't good with numbers. Having recently graduated high school, I knew all about exam pressure and how studying for weeks could mean nothing if panic hit you the second you stepped into that room. 

My grade point average hadn't been too bad, but it could've been better and it needed to get better if I wanted to get into a good college with a fair tuition. My plan before all of this had been to take a few summer courses in the subjects I had needed improvement in, but then, the day before the applications were due, that was when Harry's older brother had approached me. 

I came from a broke family. Broke, as in in every sense of the word. I was an only child. I never knew much of my dad. He left my mom when I was 5, and I only saw him two more times after that whenever he bothered to come and visit his daughter. My mom had been diagnosed with borderline and a touch of schizophrenia, which meant I from a very early age had to learn she couldn't always be relied upon. 

I had been working on my own since I was 13, all the way up through high school where I fought to get good enough grades to apply to a decent college. I wanted to get into med school, but that had only been a far away, expensive dream, until Richard Devon approached me at the coffee shop. 

If anyone else had been in my shoes, what do you think they would've done? I was at a point in my life where money was running low, college fees were too high, and chances of getting into an esteemed college that didn't have the word community in front of it were low. I couldn't afford extra tutoring, and I had barely been able to afford the summer courses I had been set to apply to. Then a stranger with a handful of money shows up, with just the term of getting pregnant with a guy. 

I knew women out there who did it without any money offer at all, so the question had really been, how desperate was I?

I was 18 and I was young and I was healthy. I didn't want a child yet, but Richard VonDuck had promised the child the highest education and the finest care. In truth I would just be a surrogate mom, and then the child would be off to a better place than where I currently was.

It had seemed like a straight forward answer, even if it was unethical and meant sacrificing a few principles, but hell, with the way things were going in the world, it was almost impossible to move up without doing just that, unless you were extremely talented in some way.

I wasn't. I had my face, my tits and my ass, and, despite evidence, an okay sense of logic inside my head, and that was all I needed in this case. Richard Devon promised me gold if I could deliver a healthy baby. 

So, the money I took and I accepted the Devon Scholarship. 

Sitting in my bed, now reading the material I needed to cram up on before enrolling to a university of my choice, I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. 

It was almost ironic, wasn't it? The one person who could possibly help me was sitting downstairs in his study and was loathing my guts. I think I had embarrassed myself enough to go down and ask his pretentious ass for help, and that's why I was currently staring into my book, reading the same paragraph over and over again, making less and less sense for every time. 

"Karma is what they call it," I muttered to myself with a dry chuckle. Fucking karma, but even karma couldn't break my stubbornness. I was going to manage on my own, just like I had done since I was a kid. 

I was a survivor, and not Harry, Richard or any polynomials were going to change that fact.

• • •

(Insert previously missing author's note)