Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
“He needs a knockout who can pose as his fiancée,” Worth says. “Girlfriend’s not enough. We’re trying to make sure Caroline Hammond knows that being a dick to Leo was the stupidest thing she ever did, and he hasn’t looked back.”
“Right,” I say. “She was a dick.”
“What about Efa?” Fisher says. “She’s pretty much the perfect woman from what I can see.”
“She’s about to be my wife,” Bennett says. “I’m not lending her to Leo.”
At that moment, Efa comes in with a pile of pizza boxes. “Didn’t you hear the door?” she asks, holding the pizza in the air like she’s a modern-day statue of liberty. “Anyone would think I’m your maid.” She shoots Bennett a look, and they both giggle like adorable teenagers.
“Anything else I can do for anyone?” Efa asks. “Drink top-ups? Shoulder massage?”
“You have any friends who’d want to pose as Leo’s fiancée?” Fisher asks.
“What do you mean ‘pose’?”
“For an evening. He needs someone to be his date. But they need to act like they’re really coupled up.”
“I can do it,” she says without missing a beat.
Bennett growls from the sofa. “Efa.”
She shrugs. “What? I’m not offering to sleep with him. I’ll stick on a dress and go to a party with him.”
“Thanks,” I say. “But your engagement is pretty high profile. After the Forbes article and everything.”
Efa grins, like remembering the way Bennett sacrificed everything for her is still fresh in her mind.
“It’s nice that everyone knows he’s my man,” she says. “But let me think if I know anyone.” Her eyebrows pull together in concentration. “I mean, Eira would do it if you were in a real bind. She’s over next weekend.”
I smile, but shake my head. “Thanks, Efa. I need someone single. Who lives in New York.”
“Okay, I’ll put my thinking cap on,” she says. “What about someone at work?”
“No. I don’t shit where I eat,” I say.
“Ewww,” she replies. “No one’s talking about shitting or eating. You’re asking someone to pretend to be engaged to you. Someone who works for you would at least have an incentive to say yes.”
“True. But I prefer to keep things separate.” I have a healthy appetite for sex. But the sex I like is casual, no-strings-attached, minimal-drama sex. I worked out pretty early on that sex with someone you employ is anything but casual or minimally dramatic, so I’ve always managed to avoid it. There are plenty of women in New York City who don’t work for me.
“Okay, so what about you guys? Any of the women you work with available?”
“No way,” Bennett says. “We’re not asking the women who work for us, because they might feel some kind of obligation to say yes if it’s their boss asking.”
“Good point,” Efa says. “You know you get me so hot when you say stuff like that?”
“I do know that,” Bennett says calmly. “We’ll deal with that later.”
Efa sighs and heads out.
“So not the women any of us work with. Not anyone famous. What about sisters? Worth?”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Worth replies. I don’t blame him. If I had a sister, I wouldn’t be hiring her out as a fake fiancée anytime soon.
“What about Mary?” Fisher says, suggesting Byron’s sister.
“She’s in college,” I say. “I don’t want to look like a dirtbag.”
“Even though you are a dirtbag?” Worth asks.
“We’ll think of someone,” Bennett says. “But given that’s the plan, do you feel better about things?”
“I suppose,” I reply. “I just want to get it over with. The sooner I see her, the sooner I’ll be able to be over it. And if my pretend fiancée is fire, that will help the medicine that is Caroline go down.”
It’s objectively ridiculous to pretend I’m happily engaged so the woman who ripped my heart out fifteen years ago doesn’t think she ruined my life, but I’ll feel so much better about seeing her if she thinks I have a perfect life. Without her.
FOUR
Jules
I nearly hit the ceiling as I jump in my seat at the sound of my office door opening. Partly, I’m not used to anyone being in the office at this hour—it’s only just seven. Also, I’m working on my strategy plan for The Mayfair, and even though it’s not office hours for Hart Developments, I still feel like I shouldn’t be working on my dream job when I’m at the desk of my actual job.
“Good morning,” I say as Leo walks in. I’ve taken my jacket off and I’m wearing a sleeveless white shirt, but I pull my jacket back on so I’m my most professional self in front of Leo. Dress for the job you want and all that.
I straighten my collar as he stops in front of my desk, his eyebrows knitted together as if he wasn’t expecting to see me. He looks ridiculously hot today. The shirt he’s wearing is my favorite. It’s a cool pink, which brings out the blond streaks in his brown hair. It’s a color most straight men wouldn’t be caught dead in, but I like that Leo doesn’t seem to give a shit and just wears what he wants.