I am trembling as I walk into 1 Lombard Street, a restaurant that is located in the heart of the City of London. I have a vague idea of the man with whom I am about to come face-to-face. My go-to reaction when faced with something, or someone, I am unsure about is to do my research. Forewarned is forearmed, as they say, and the Internet is a marvellous invention. It took a few Google searches to narrow down my Alexander Davenport, but when I finally tracked down the website for Davenport Wines, I was able to confirm that the person I had met was the same guy in the picture on the page of company directors.

From his short biography, I learnt that he is thirty-six and originally from Western Australia. His family own a couple of vineyards and exports their vintages globally. Interestingly enough, there is very little about his personal life documented online, which I found a little odd. He is clearly wealthy and from a prestigious family, so I would have thought he would have had some sort of presence online, but apart from pictures at the corporate events that his company sponsors, there is nothing. Obviously, a man who keeps his private life just that.

I try to smooth down my wind-tousled bob, very much aware that, despite my efforts at dressing to impress, under my camel-coloured trench coat my black wrap dress has seen better days, and my heels are scuffed. Thank heavens I managed to find a pair of stockings with no holes. I am not sure exactly where I need to go, so I make my way over to the hostess and let her know that I am here to see Mr Davenport.

With a smile, she leads me across to a partially hidden door, informing me that he is waiting for me in the private dining room. I’m not sure what this all means, but when she opens the door and leads me in, announcing my arrival, I can’t help but be impressed by my surroundings. Before I can take in much of anything, though, I see Alexander standing expectantly, apparently waiting for me to make my way across to the table. I reach the table and take off my coat, which is swiftly whisked away by the hostess, and Alexander motions me to take a seat. I smile nervously, feeling thoroughly intimidated by the surroundings and the man sitting across from me.

"Thank you for meeting me, Ms Walker." Alexander's voice is smooth but deep, and weirdly, I feel instantly at ease in his company. I have no idea how he knows my name, but I guess he is the kind of guy who is always in control and so, of course, would have found out my name somehow.

"Mr Davenport," I begin before he interrupts me.

"Alex, please. I always look around for my father when I hear someone say 'Mr Davenport'.”Alex smiles at me, and immediately his face is transformed, giving me a glimpse of the man beneath the suit.

"Alex, thank you for seeing me. If we are being informal, then please call me Olivia. As I said yesterday, I need that manuscript."

"Yes, I understand that, Olivia. You have been very insistent about that. I have a proposition for you," Alex says, his voice returning to the carefully controlled tone he used when I first walked in. Yet again, I get the impression that there is something going on that I am not privy to.

"Okay…" I say, nervously playing with my hair. "I am all ears." My heart is thumping in my chest, but I am desperately trying to appear calm. A proposition, he said. Well, at this point I am plain out of options so have no choice but to hear him out. I have five days before my mother becomes homeless and that is just not something I can allow.

"Before we go into the details, I need you to be aware that what I am about to tell you is private, so I want your assurance that the details will not leave this room." I nod and wait for him to continue. "I have something you want and I am willing to give it to you, but in return, I am going to need something from you."

Okay, I feel slightly on edge at the sound of this, but I am not really in any position to argue. "I understand that." My voice is almost a whisper and I am really starting to wish that I was one of those take-charge kinds of people.

"A bit of background on me then. I was born and raised in Perth in Western Australia. My family owns several wineries in Western Australia, as well as various investments throughout Australasia. Basically, we are very wealthy." Okay, nothing I didn't know, or guess, already, but I don't want to give away that I have looked into Alex, so I just nod and stay silent, waiting for him to continue.

"For years, my mother and grandmother have been trying to set me up with the various daughters of their friends, and for the most part, I have managed to avoid it. But now there is real pressure with regards to one particular girl, as both families seem to have gone all nineteenth century. They own the vineyard next to ours and bringing them together would have a huge financial impact on both families."

I raise my eyebrows but stay silent, wondering how this all affects me. "The difficulty, though, is that I partake in a, shall we say, alternative lifestyle, and this means that the marriage is not a possibility. Where I come from, well, let's just say this is not something I could keep under wraps, which in turn could cause problems for the family business, and besides, I could never go into a marriage without being honest about who I am. Plus there is some history there…" Alex trails off, looking uncomfortable for the first time.

"And what does this have to do with me?" I ask curiously, my mind already latching on to this mysterious 'lifestyle' and spinning out in a thousand directions.

"Well, if I were already married, then I could avoid having to deal with any of this. At the moment, it is innuendo and whispers, but I am due to go to Perth in a couple of weeks and I know the pressure is going to be piled on me when I get there."

My mind is racing. "I am guessing that when you say 'already married', you mean me?" I can hear the tremble in my voice. Okay, this was the last thing I was expecting.

"You have got it in one," Alex replies, the smirk that he seems to have been holding back sliding into place.
"Oh…so you are suggesting that, for me to get the manuscript, I have to marry you?" I say, and I can't help the disbelief that has seeped into my voice. What the hell? Has my life suddenly turned into a Harlequin romance novel?

"Correct. I know just how much you need this manuscript, Olivia. Your payment to the care home for your mother has just bounced, and you have a total of a hundred pounds in your account. Your rent is due next week, and without this manuscript, your boss, Charles Ridings, will fire you and then both you and your mother will be homeless," Alex states in a voice completely devoid of emotion.

I feel like I have been punched in the gut. "How the hell do you know my business?" I exclaim, my voice rising as the anger over this violation of privacy comes to the surface.

"I make it my business to know everything about the person I am dealing with," Alex says, remaining completely calm. Touché. Okay, so I did my homework too, but I certainly did not go into this level of scrutiny. How the hell did he access my bank account? How does he know about my mother?

I fight to calm my emotions, and take a deep breath, knowing that I can't let this situation spin out of control because I am too chickenshit to do what needs to be done. "Okay, so you know why I need the manuscript so much," I mutter, knowing that my anger has turned my face red, and I can feel my heart beating rapidly.

Alex continues in his maddeningly calm manner as if my outburst hadn't even occurred. "I am proposing that we get married, which will solve a major headache for me, and in return, you will get your manuscript. Plus I will pay for your mother's care and settle your debts."

"Okay, I get the manuscript, but why would you want to pay for my mother's care? And my debts are nothing to do with you," I say quietly, my mind spinning as to why a perfect stranger would want to do this for me.

"Look, I am not a complete arsehole. You would have to commit to being married to me for a year; it would need to be that long to make sure that my parents believe that we married for love…" Alex fidgets in his seat, and I can see that he is not as cool as he is trying to make out he is.

"What do you mean, love?" I ask, seriously quite confused at this statement. Clearly what we are talking about is nothing to do with emotions and everything about a business transaction.

Alex lets out a deep sigh and pushes his hand through his hair in a gesture that I am quickly getting used to. "My parents met when they were seventeen and have been together ever since, sickeningly in love. And all they want for me and my siblings is to find what they have. They may try and match-make the hell out of me, but they mean well and would never try and force a marriage of convenience on any of us, even for money. Which is why they would have to believe that this is real," Alex replies.

!If you have such a great relationship with your parents, then why don't you tell them the truth? I mean, your 'alternative lifestyle' can't be that bad, can it?" I say, doing my best to keep the bitterness out of my mouth. Suddenly something strikes me. "It's not illegal, is it? I mean, please don't tell me you torture small animals or things like that. Or are you gay?"

"No, I am not gay.” Alex lets out a loud laugh, a genuine smile stretching across his face and transforming his features. "And it is nothing illegal. It…it's just not something that they would understand. Look, I don't even expect you to get it, and it's not something I feel comfortable sharing with you at this time anyway.

"So for the next year, you would be required to live with me." Seeing my look of confusion, as I am certainly not in any position to move to Australia, he clarifies, "I have a house in London, so you can stay there and still be able to visit your mother and carry on your job. I travel a lot for business, so I wouldn't be around that much, meaning you would have the run of the place. And for the year that we are together, I will make sure that you are looked after, your bills are paid and your mother is taken care of."

My face must display my unease at his words. "As my wife, you will be expected to attend certain functions. You will be mixing with people who are, shall we say, quite snobby, so you will be expected to dress and act the part. It is only fair that you are compensated for it. If you are to agree to our arrangement, I will get a prenuptial agreement drawn up and we can go from there," Alex finishes, an expectant look on his face. I can tell from the kind of person that he is, he's probably used to people jumping at his command, agreeing with him instantly, but I need a moment to gather my thoughts.

"So let me get this straight," I say seriously. "If I agree to marry you for one year, then you will let me buy the manuscript and you will pay my expenses during the course of the year?" In my mind's eye, I see a giant grandfather clock going tick-tock, tick-tock, a countdown as I consider my future.

"In a nutshell…" Alex trails off as I stare at the tablecloth, my mind whirring with everything Alex has just said.

"Look, Olivia, I know this is a lot to take in, but I think for both of us, time is of the essence. I have ordered us some food, so let's just forget about everything for the moment and enjoy our meal, and then perhaps you can go away and have a think about my proposal," Alex suggests placidly as if we have been discussing a simple business deal and not friggin' marriage.

Alex gets up and presses a button on the wall. A couple of minutes later a waiter walks in, carrying two plates. As he sets them down in front of us, I can see a fillet of beef Wellington, green beans, sautéed potato and creamy mushrooms. My stomach suddenly rumbles and I realise that I am ravenous, especially because I haven't eaten since breakfast. Without asking, Alex pours me a glass of red wine and puts it in front of me.

"Um, thanks, but I don't really drink. I'll just have water if you don't mind," I say, not sure that I want to start going into the reasons why I don't drink. That is a whole can of worms for another day.

Alex gives me a quizzical look but doesn't question me, simply taking away the glass and giving me the choice of still or sparkling water instead. We both dig into our food and the silence is a welcome relief to the conversation that we have just been having. I go through everything Alex has told me and I know realistically that I don't have any other choice; I cannot risk my mother becoming homeless. I would love to scream and wail about how life is so unfair…blah, blah, blah, but the reality is that Alex's offer is actually the light at the end of a very long, dark tunnel and I just can't see any other way out of the current mess that is my life.

As I reflect on the situation, it strikes me a little like that film Indecent Proposal, but Alex is certainly way hotter than Robert Redford and I am certainly no Demi Moore. "Do you expect me to have sex with you?" I suddenly blurt out, the filter on my brain failing to kick in before my mouth takes off, as I feel the blush creep across my face.

Alex looks at me with a strangely soft expression. "No, Olivia. That is not part of this deal. Believe me when I say that I think you are far too innocent to deal with what I offer." His statement confuses the hell out of me. Innocent? At thirty-three, I would hardly think that I am some innocent virgin. I have had two long-term relationships, a couple of short, torrid affairs and a series of one-night stands, so no, I don't think so. But I am not about to start discussing my sex life with Alex. I am merely relieved that there are no expectations on his part.

I find myself pushing the remains of my meal around my plate, my stomach suddenly too full for me to take another mouthful. The food was delicious, but I don’t feel like I have fully done it justice in my current distracted state. I glance over at Alex, and as ever through this strange meeting, he seems to have remained completely calm—impassive almost. I study him under my lashes and while I certainly am attracted to him—well, what normal girl wouldn't be attracted to a gorgeous hunk with a dreamy accent?—what strikes me most is how calm I feel in his presence. I would have thought I would be a bundle of nerves, but actually, with the sex issue clarified, I feel surprisingly safe, a strange feeling for me as I have essentially been looking after myself since I was twenty.

"Okay, I'll do it," I say softly. Alex looks at me, surprise written across his expression. I don't think he thought I would make a decision so quickly.

He wipes his mouth with the pristine white cloth napkin. "Good. I'll get the papers drawn up and sent across to you first thing." Alex looks me in the eye, almost daring me to retract my acceptance of his proposal, but I look at him steadfastly.

"If you don't mind, I think I am going to head home," I say, knowing that I need to leave before I change my mind. "I think I have a migraine coming and need to take some tablets," I lie smoothly. I think Alex realises my lie when I see a shadow cross his expression, but thankfully he doesn't call me on it. Ever the gentleman, he insists on collecting my coat, helping me into it with practised ease, walking me out and putting me in his car, with strict instructions to the driver to deliver me home. I look out the window at Alex standing on the pavement, hands stuffed in his pockets, his expression strangely triumphant, as the car pulls away, and I am instantly swamped with the overwhelming sensation that life is never going to be the same.

The journey home is mercifully quick, the London traffic surprisingly light for a Wednesday evening, and when the car pulls up in front of my building, I scramble for the door handle. When I try to pay for my ride, the driver insists that it is on Mr Davenport's account. I thank him and wish him a good evening before heading inside to begin my night of contemplation over the strange situation I find myself in.