I waited for him to say something. Anything. Instead, he stared at me like I was crazy. I didn’t feel crazy, but I supposed in his world it would be considered crazy. I couldn’t take the awkward silence another second. “Jay, are you okay?”
“I’m fine. You took me by surprise. So about this piano.”
“I don’t expect you to carry a piano, but if I’m going to have to spend time at your place, I would like to have a piano there.”
“You play?”
“No, I just like to look at it.” My sarcasm surprised even me. It was my own nervous response. I was hoping he would catch my joke about the piano.
I had a feeling it was missed, judging by the blank expression on his face. It was hard to read him. He had a ridiculous poker face.
He smirked. “So you play.”
“Yes. I tinker.”
“Tinker. What does that mean?”
“I play the piano. I write music when I’ve got the time.”
“Really? Anything good?”
Oh, the man did not have a silver tongue. He was blunt to a fault. I had a feeling he knew that. He just didn’t care. “I guess good is in the eye of the beholder.”
“So not good?”
Now he was being rude. “I didn’t say that. I happen to like what I write. I don’t sing. I play. I write. Most people don’t understand that. They think singing is music. It’s a little difficult to judge a song when it isn’t sung well. It has to be heard by the right ears.”
“Are you saying I don’t have the right ears?”
“I’m saying it would take a skilled singer or producer to recognize a good song. Are you either of those things?”
That sexy smile played over his lips again. He was enjoying this. “How do you know I’m not?”
I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Let’s just say I know and call it good.”
“That’s presumptuous.”
We were beating around the bush. I felt a bit like an attraction at a carnival with the way he was looking at me. It wasn’t really smiling, but it wasn’t frowning. It was amusement. He was trying to figure me out. Trying to see what made me tick. It was intimidating, which was probably why he was doing it.
“What exactly are we doing here?” I said with exasperation. “I’ve told you my conditions. Were you just joking? Am I making a complete fool of myself? I need to get to work. I don’t have time to sit around here and play games.”
“You are not making a fool of yourself and I was not joking. I am very serious about this. I don’t think you realize just how important this is to me. My mother is truly going to make me crazy if I don’t do something to curb her need to control my life.”
I snickered, quickly stopping when he shot me a dirty look. It was comical that he was so bothered by his mother. He was this big, powerful man and his mommy was making his life difficult. “Why don’t you just tell her to stop?” I asked.
He scoffed. “You haven’t met my mother. Trust me, she could stop a speeding freight train with just a look.”
“Then why in the world would I want to put myself in that position? She sounds terrifying.”
“She isn’t terrifying. She is demanding. She wouldn’t be that way with you because she wouldn’t want to do anything to scare away the only woman I have ever considered marrying. I imagine she will treat you like her own daughter.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I’m not sure I want that if you are doing something this wild and you are her son.”
“I won’t let her eat you alive.”
“That’s comforting. So this is legit?” I asked.
“This is legit. I don’t joke about things I find to be very serious. This is serious.”
“Then?” I asked and threw up my arms in a very unladylike fashion.
“I accept your conditions,” he said with a small smile. He got to his feet and reached out with one hand.
I shook his hand. I had a brief image of Ariel signing her name on Ursula’s contract. I had no notion I was going to get a happily ever after. I just wanted to avoid paying seventy-grand to fix a stupid car.
He sat back down.
“Okay,” I said. “Now what?”
He opened a desk drawer and handed me a box. “That’s your new phone.”
I looked at the white box with an apple on it. “A new phone.”
“I’ll need to be able to get ahold of you at any time. If there is a situation, I’ll need to be able to call or text you.”
“I have a phone.”
He raised one of those bushy brows. It was a look that said it all. “Your phone is almost as old as you are. I don’t trust it.”
“How do you know how old my phone is?”
“At the hospital, the nurse gave it to me to call the contacts in the hopes of finding a family member. I didn’t even know how to use the thing.”
He wasn’t wrong. My phone was old, but it worked. Most of the time. “Fine. Is this supposed to be my bell? You ring and I jump?”
“I ring and you will call me back preferably. You said you needed plenty of notice when there was a function I needed you to attend. I’ll shoot you a text and let you know if there is something.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“How does this work?”
“I will reach out when it’s time. I have other things to deal with right now.”
I had a feeling he was dismissing me. “Okay.” I grabbed the phone and got to my feet.
“The phone is programmed with my number and Ashton’s.”
“Thanks.”
I left the office feeling like I was having an out of body experience. This was not normal. I smiled at Ashton as I passed his office.
I made it out of the building before I exhaled. “Holy shit,” I breathed.
“Excuse me?” a man asked.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “I was talking to myself.”
He kept walking. I made my way to the bus stop. I had to work in fifteen minutes.
Since I was essentially in the neighborhood, I knew I had time. Assuming the bus was on time. That wasn’t always the case, but I was hoping it was today. I couldn’t afford to be late.
I took a seat on the bus. My purse, which was basically a small carry-on suitcase with everything I needed in it, was squeezed against my chest. I remembered the phone and pulled out the box.
It was the latest in the series and I imagined very expensive. I took it out of the box and turned it on. I had never owned a smart phone. They seemed like a huge waste of money. The phone in my hand likely cost as much as my poor, totaled Kia.
I had a brief thought to sell the phone and buy a car. I couldn’t. He said it was the way he would reach out. Reach out and do what, I didn’t know. I had no idea how this whole thing worked. How did one pretend to be engaged? How did one act when they were actually engaged?
I made it to work with five minutes to spare. I rushed into the breakroom to put away my purse. I felt a little guilty about leaving the expensive phone unattended. I tucked it into the bottom of my purse, hiding it under tampons, makeup, and hair ties. Lord knew I didn’t have any money for anyone to steal.
“Hey, sweetie,” Betty said.
I whipped around, feeling guilty about the phone. I didn’t know why I felt guilty. Yes, I did. I felt like I was being bought. With a phone. It was the beginning of me selling my soul to the devil.
I asked the obvious. “Do you work today?”
“I’m covering for Gretchen.”
“Betty, you are going to work yourself to death,” I lectured.
“Gretchen’s daughter was getting an award at school today. She is covering my shift on Sunday.”
“That was nice of you.”
“I look forward to having a Sunday off. I’m going to sleep in and make myself a big breakfast. Then I’m going to plant some flowers and maybe visit some old friends.”
She had her whole day planned. “That sounds like a very nice way to spend a Sunday.”
“What about you, dear?”
“I work.”
“You are the one who works far too much.”
I grinned. “I’m half your age. I can work too much.”
“Ah, you are a little more than half my age and that is exactly why you shouldn’t work so much. You need time to find yourself a man. You don’t want one of those guys from the store. You need a strong man that can take care of you. You need a man that will support you, so you don’t have to work so much.”
She meant well, but that was not my goal in life. I was not looking for a man to support me. I wasn’t rich and I wouldn’t call myself comfortable, but I was my own person. I wanted to take my time and find the man for me that would be my best friend and partner. I didn’t have a lot to offer in terms of wealth or family. I supposed that was one of my ulterior motives to keeping my virginity. I couldn’t offer my future husband a loving family to welcome him into. I couldn’t offer him an educated woman. All I could offer was my heart, my loyalty, and my virginity.
I hoped it was enough to land me the man of my dreams. Or close to it. I was well aware I was setting myself up for failure and heartbreak, but I had to try. I wasn’t quite spinster age just yet. There was still a chance my prince was out there.
Chapter 11
Jameson
I sat in the meeting, trying my best to pay attention to what was being said. It was another meeting that had been pushed when I decided to rush home earlier in the week. This time, I was back in Rome with my mother.
She handled the interior design for the hotels. This particular meeting was not something I enjoyed, but I didn’t dare let my mother come alone. She had extravagant tastes. I was just there to hold on to the budget with a white-knuckled grip.
“Does that sound like a good plan?” my mother asked.
I blinked and tried to rewind the conversation. I had completely spaced out. My mind was on Paislee. “Yes,” I answered, hoping like hell I didn’t just give away the farm.
“Great,” she said. “We’ll be in touch next week to go over the specifics. I’ll want fabric swatches and mockups.”
The young man who was very eager to do business with us bobbed his head up and down. “I will send it to your assistant first thing Monday morning.”
That was good news. I could still pull the plug if I’d just agreed to something stupid expensive. There was still a way out. Maybe. Mom could be very insistent. If she wanted this new lobby design, she was going to get it. She would go over my head to Dad if she had to.
“What has got you so distracted?” she whispered as we left the conference room.
“Nothing.”
“You’re lying. I don’t think you heard two words in that meeting. I could have bought anything I wanted, and you would have agreed to it.”
“But you didn’t, right?”
“No, I did not. What is going on?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. Why don’t we walk back to the hotel? It’s a beautiful day.”
She smiled up at me. “I would love to stroll the streets of Rome with my son. I bet there will be plenty of beautiful women milling the streets as well.”
“Mom,” I groaned.
“I just want to do a little shopping.”
I knew what that meant. We were headed to Gucci. “Is this why you wanted to come with me?” I asked. “You love Paris. I was surprised when you volunteered to come to Rome while dad and Julia went to Paris.”
“I love the shopping in Paris, but there is something about Rome I love even more. Plus, I was looking forward to spending time with my favorite son.”
“I’m your only son.”
“Which is why you are my favorite. Lucky for you, there is no competition.”
She hooked her arm through mine and we set off toward the Piazza di Spagna and Via dei Condotti. The high-end shopping area was a frequent stop for her when she was in the city. We walked along, stopping to check out various window displays when we came upon a women’s boutique.
“Wait,” I said and pulled her to a halt.
“Jameson, what are you doing?”
“I need to go in here,” I told her.
“It’s a women’s boutique,” she pointed out.
I was fixated on the dress in the window. I could picture Paislee in it and knew it was perfect. I wasn’t sure where she was going to wear it just yet, but I had to see her in it. I walked into the store and quickly found a salesperson.
“I want that dress,” I told her.
The woman looked at me and then my mother. She smiled. “For you?”
“No! Lord no!”
“No?” the woman asked with confusion as she looked back at me. “You?”
I laughed. “No. Someone else.”
“What size?”
This was very dangerous territory. I looked at my mom and then at the saleswoman who was much thicker than Paislee but about the same height. I was about to step into the shit, but I had to do it. “About your size, but maybe a little less through here,” I said and grabbed my middle.
The woman smirked instead of being insulted. “What about here?” she asked and plumped her breasts.
I grinned. This part I knew very well. “Bigger,” I said with a wink.
“And here?” she asked with her hands on her hips.
I took a step back and studied her. I gestured, indicating just a little narrower. “And just a little shorter,” I clarified.
She was smiling. “One moment.”
“What are you doing?” my mother hissed. “I know you are not buying that dress for me.”
“Of course not.”
“With the measurements you gave that woman, it seems you are looking for a dress for Marilyn Monroe.”
“Close,” I said with a grin.
The saleswoman returned a moment later with the dress. I nodded with approval. “What about the belt?” I asked. “I want it in green, not gold.”
“Absolutely. I will get some samples.”
“What are you doing?” my mother asked again. “Are you taking up cross dressing?”
“No.”
“How about this?” The woman returned with a green velvet belt that would wrap around the high waist across the bodice.
I shook my head. “Not velvet.”
“Since when did you become an expert on women’s fashion?” my mother asked irritably.
“I know what I like. I know what will look good. That belt wasn’t it.”
“Are you buying a gown for someone special?”
“Maybe.”
“Son, I try not to give you a lot of advice when it comes to dealing with women, but I have to warn you, buying a woman clothes is dangerous. The dress you are about to buy is—well, it’s more suited for a larger girl. I think if you give that to your flavor of the week, you just might end up with a black eye.”
“Trust me, I’m certain the dress will fit just fine, assuming the saleswoman took into account my detailed measurements.”
She rolled her eyes. “You basically told the woman the dress is for a woman with an hourglass figure and large breasts.”
I grinned. “Then I’m definitely on the right track.”
“What are you up to?”
The saleswoman returned with the perfect shade of green satin.
“I’ll take it,” I said. “I’ll need this mailed back to the States.”
“Jameson Harrow, I demand to know right now what you are up to,” my mother said and actually stomped her foot.
I grinned and handed over my black card. The saleswoman happily rang up my order. I provided her with my address and requested the dress be delivered ASAP. With my shopping done, I was ready to leave. My mother was staring at me as we walked out.
“Where to next?” I asked her.
“I want to know what you are up to.”
“I am shopping with my mom. We have about an hour.”
“And then what?”
“I made reservations for us a
t the restaurant.”
Her face lit up. “You did?”
“I did. We don’t get to spend a lot of time together. I thought we could have a relaxing dinner with no interrogating.”
“Are you suggesting I interrogate you?”
“Yes.”
“Jameson!”
“Let’s just have a nice dinner. There is no need to dig into old family drama. Please, can we just enjoy a dinner together?”
I knew how to appeal to her. She would acquiesce. For now. The dress thing was my way of dropping a hint without coming right out and telling her. It was going to be difficult to lie directly to her face.
I was going to tell myself it wasn’t necessarily a lie. Paislee and I would both be exclusive. That was basically an engagement.
My mother found a shop she liked and we went in. I patiently waited while she tried on one outfit after another. I’d already been forced to push our reservation once. We owned the restaurant, though, so it wouldn’t actually be a problem.
“I suppose we should get back to the hotel,” she said with a little disappointment. “I was having so much fun. You just might be more fun to shop with than Julia.”
I laughed. “Don’t tell her that.”
Her purchases would be delivered to the hotel. There was no way I was going to play pack mule for her. My mother could shop. Two hours and I couldn’t begin to guess how many dollars later, she had easily picked up an entirely new wardrobe. I was glad we had the jet. There was no way an airline would allow her to have that many bags.
Once we were back at the hotel, I turned toward her. “I’ll meet you down here in thirty minutes.”
She wrinkled her nose. “That’s hardly enough time to get ready.”
“Mom, you look great. I’ve already pushed the reservation. I’m starving.”
She patted my cheek. “Fine. Thirty minutes. If I’m a few minutes late, order a drink.”
“If you’re a few minutes late, I’m ordering food.” I shook my head as I walked to my suite. She was basically telling me she was going to be late.
I went into the suite and figured I had time to shower. I couldn’t get the dress I’d bought out of my mind. Not the dress, but Paislee in the dress. I could just see her entering a room and commanding the full attention of everyone in it.
Pay Up Hot Stuff: A Billionaire Fake Fiancée Romance Page 7