by Vivian Wood
“Um, yes. Yeah, sure,” she said. “That sounds good.”
Connor looked her up and down, unabashedly. She felt his eyes crawl over the swell of her calves, linger at the splay of her hips and travel to her waist. He took in the curve of her breasts, the hollow of her throat and finally met her gaze—and held it for an uncomfortable amount of time. He nodded to himself, then turned and took a pen and pad of paper from her desk.
“Here’s the time, place, and my number,” he said as he tore off the piece of paper. He walked toward her and she gulped. “Don’t be late,” he said.
When he handed her the slip of paper, their hands touched and it was electric.
Connor left, and Sam along with the entire office watched his departure. What have you gotten yourself into now?
“Oh my God,” Jenny said as soon as he was swallowed by the elevator. “What was that? What happened?”
“I don’t—I’m not sure,” she said honestly.
“What’s that?” Jenny asked, and she snatched the paper out of Sam’s hand. “The Rye Bar? Sam, what’s going on? Did he… did he ask you out? Are you going?”
“Jenny, be quiet,” Sam said softly.
“Sam! C’mon, you have to tell me. That was the weirdest, and hottest, thing I’ve ever experienced. So are you going or not? Is it tonight?”
“I don’t think I really have a choice,” Sam said. Connor had been so sure, so confident, like he never doubted for a second that she wouldn’t jump at the chance to go out with him.
“What do you mean? Sam, did he threaten you? Oh my God, I’ll never forgive myself if he—”
“Jenny, for goodness’ sake, he didn’t threaten me! I… yes, it’s tonight, and yes I’m going.”
“Oh!” Jenny pretended to fan herself. “Dang, I wish I would have kept it together. Then maybe he would have asked me out. What are you going to wear?”
“I don’t know. This? I don’t think I have time to go home and change.”
“Don’t be stupid! Go buy something on your lunch break, get a Brazilian blowout—get a Brazilian wax, you crazy girl. You gotta make the most of tonight.”
Sam bit her lip and grinned at Jenny. “Maybe you’re right,” she said.
3
Connor
He waited at the bar and sipped on his Dalmore scotch. The rich wood paneling complemented the long stretch of the bar. Couples were draped over one another, men with wedding band tans on their fingers hungered over girls barely old enough to drink, and flocks of single girls teetered in stilettos. He’d always loved this place. You could be anybody here.
Connor smirked to himself. It had only taken him a few minutes after seeing Sam to hatch his plan. He knew his father was going to cut him off as soon as he heard about the broken wedding—that was part of the deal. Connor got the COO position as soon as he got married. And as far as his father was concerned, an engagement with a set date was as good as married.
But now? It didn’t matter that the paperwork had been signed. His father could make that paperwork disappear in a second.
What Connor needed was a decoy. A fake fiancée. A girl who would answer to the name Sandra and never get caught with some other guy’s dick in her mouth—because she would be getting paid to play the role. Then, he could still get the business and claim the proverbial throne he’d been promised.
Now all he had to do was get Sam to agree to it.
He saw her enter through the mirrored back of the bar. She was a knockout, it was clear, even from across the room. The huddles of single men craned their necks in unison, and even the men cooing with their lovers looked up to drink her in. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to choose a girl simply because she was stunning, he thought to himself.
Sam caught sight of him, waved, and started to make her way through the crowd. But she has a real job, too. That would please his father. For once, he was grateful his father had never asked any details about Sandra besides whether or not she belonged to the country club. That would mean less lies to remember with Sam. She could slide into Sandra’s place easily.
“Hi,” Sam said with a shy smile.
Connor took another sip of his drink before turning to her. Damn. She really was unbelievable. A little young, but what did that matter? “You look lovely,” he told her coolly, kissing her cheek. When he went in for it, he felt her stiffen and brace for a kiss on the mouth. He loved putting women off balance like that, plus the knowledge that they would let him do whatever he liked from the jump.
“Thanks,” she said, tugging at her short dress and sliding onto the barstool next to him.
It was barely a slip of a dress, if you could even call it that. Black with a satin finish, it bared her toned shoulders and showcased her deep cleavage. Connor loosened his tie slightly as he broke out in a sweat. Eyes continued to be drawn to her from every corner of the room. It was exactly the reaction he wanted.
Let’s see what Sandra and her family think about this, he thought. But he shook the thought away. Why are you thinking about Sandra? Besides, if his plan went as he hoped, Sandra and her family wouldn’t find out about Sam for a long time, if ever. You just need a bride, not this ‘til death do you part bullshit.
“What are you drinking?” he asked her.
“I don’t know. What are you drinking?”
“Scotch, eighteen years. Would you like a taste?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Tanqueray martini, extra dry with a twist,” she said.
He was impressed. “For a second there I thought you were going to order an appletini or some other horrific concoction.”
She laughed. “I drink gin martinis because I can tolerate the taste just enough so that I sip it slowly. Fruity cocktails I’d just down like soda.”
“And the lemon?” he asked. “Why lemon instead of olives? I thought women liked the olives in martinis. You can eat them sensually, like cherries in an Old Fashioned.”
“Real martinis are served with lemon,” she said simply.
He looked her up and down. Maybe there was more to this girl than he’d given her credit for. “Another for me,” he told the bartender, “and a Tanqueray martini, extra dry with lemon, for my friend.” She bristled at the word “friend,” just as he’d expected.
“So, how was—” she began.
“I didn’t ask you here for small talk,” he interrupted. She looked surprised, but kept her mouth shut. “Look, I’m going to be really upfront and transparent with you. I have ulterior motives.”
“Yes, so you said at my office,” she said, and thanked the bartender for her drink.
“There’s a lot more at stake here with my failed engagement than some kind of broken heart.”
“Oh?” she asked. As she lifted her drink to her lips, he gently clinked glasses with her. “You have to maintain eye contact when you toast,” she told him. “Otherwise, it’s bad luck.”
“My father is the CEO of Trezor Security,” he said.
“That’s where I know your name from!” she said. “I’ve been trying to figure it out.”
“Yes, well. And I’m next in line for the illustrious throne, as he likes to call it. I’ve just signed on as Chief Operations Officer, but there’s always been a catch built into these contracts. My father believes his eldest son is only cut out to take over once he’s married.”
“I see,” she said. “So… that makes sense why you were so angry about the engagement. But, I mean, did you love her?”
“Sandra? Yes, I suppose so,” he said. Connor mulled it over. Had he loved Sandra? He’d never given it much thought. “I thought she was… appropriate,” he said.
“Appropriate,” Sam repeated.
“Well, none of that matters now. What matters is why I asked you to meet me.”
“You want me to help you get her back or something?” she asked.
“Hell no. What’s the matter with you?” She looked surprised at his anger, and he forced himself to calm down. “What I mean is I’d like to as
k you to play the role of my fiancée. Just for my father. You know, until things settle down and I’m secure in the COO position.”
Sam was silent as she stared at the bar table. She put down her drink and licked her lips. “And what if I have a boyfriend?” she asked.
“You didn’t mention anything about one when I asked if you were married or engaged. Wouldn’t that have been the opportune time to bring up a love interest?”
“I guess so…”
“Let me be clear. I don’t actually want you.” He could tell that stung, but it put her back in her place. “You’re cute and all, but if you have a boyfriend or whatever, that’s fine. This isn’t a physical relationship I’m asking for.”
She smiled at him. “Then what’s in it for me?”
“What’s in it for you? How about this?” He grabbed a cocktail napkin and pencil from the barkeep’s station and wrote down his offer.
When he slid it to her, her eyes widened. “Twenty-thousand dollars?” she whispered. “That’s… that’s…”
“Not enough? Make it twenty-five,” he said.
She shook her head. “No way, that’s insane. That’s way too much.”
“You don’t think you’re worth that much? I won’t argue. What lower sum do you suggest?”
“No! I mean, this is crazy,” she said. “It’s just crazy.”
“It seems I’ve piqued your interest, though. Couldn’t you use a little extra money? You’re young, what, twenty-three? Twenty-four? Surely there are student loans you want to pay off, vacations you’d like to take.”
“I can’t believe this,” she said. He could tell she had started to warm up to the idea.
“I should stress, though, that the money is contingent on us actually getting married. Fully, legally married.”
“Married?” she asked, her voice small.
“Well, at least engaged for a long time. You’d need to really sell the part. I’d need you at family affairs, but I would always give you plenty of notice for events. When you’re not with me, your time is free to do with as you wish. I only ask that in your genuine romantic life, you keep everything discreet. The last thing I need is my father finding out you’re banging some kid in the break room.”
She blushed. “There’s nobody,” she said.
“So. Will you do it?”
Sam chewed her lip and looked once more at the slip of paper.
“I’ll give you five thousand as a good faith effort as soon as you agree,” he said. How much sweeter could this deal get for her?
“What if we try it out for a month? Just to, you know, make sure we get along okay. And I wouldn’t take the five thousand until after the month is up.”
He shrugs. “That’s up to you. But if you want to pretend being my fiancée for a month for free, go for it.”
“This is kind of exciting, actually,” she said. “I feel like I’m some kind of heroine in a romantic comedy.”
“Don’t get too excited,” he warned. “Your first job is tomorrow. There’s a family dinner planned, and it’ll be the perfect time to introduce you. I’ll pick you up at six, and bring the paperwork and the ring.”
“The ring?”
“Well, yes, I’d already told my family I got you a four-carat engagement ring from Tiffany’s. Which, speaking of, I’ll have to buy another tomorrow. Do you know your ring size?”
“Um, five and a half? I think.”
“You’d better know.”
“Five and a half.”
“Good. Put your number in my phone,” he instructed. When he handed her the iPhone, it wasn’t a blank contact screen. It was editing the contact for Sandra Brewer.
“Sandra Brewer,” she said.
“That’s your name from now on. Though I think Sam is an okay nickname. Shouldn’t cause much of a fuss if it slips now and then.”
She plugged her number in. “Well, Sandra,” he said as he slid his phone into his jacket pocket. “Thank you for meeting me. I’m looking forward to our business arrangement.”
“I like a challenge,” she said. She finished her cocktail and shook his hand. “So I’ll see you tomorrow, my intended?”
“I hate that word,” he said. “In fact, all words that have to do with being engaged are pompous.”
“Well, you are my intended,” she teased. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t be late.”
He watched her wind through the crowd, all eyes once again on her. Through that nothing of a dress, he could see every swerve of her ass. As she passed by a particularly attractive couple, the woman caught her boyfriend staring at Sam’s tits and shoved him roughly in the chest.
Connor laughed to himself and looked down at his drink. Sam was going to be a handful, that’s for sure. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so impulsive with this plan—or with choosing her. Should I have gone with someone just a touch less attractive? he wondered.
4
Sam
Sam watched as a gleaming white Mercedes pulled into her driveway at six o’clock sharp. She was more nervous than if this had been a real date. Snap out of it! This is just a job. A totally crazy job, but still a job.
She watched Connor step out of the car in an impeccable bespoke suit. He was unnervingly handsome, but such an ass. Well, look at him. I guess he’s earned it.
He carried an envelope in one hand and jogged up the steps of her little clapboard duplex. “Hey,” she said, opening the door. “You’re right on time.”
Connor let his eyes graze over her, unflinching. “And you look presentable enough to meet my family, I suppose.”
She blushed and bit her lip. If he only knew it had taken her two hours to pick her outfit. She’d finally gone with a slim-fitting, tailored business suit with a silky violet blouse underneath. The jacket flared out in a nearly peplum fashion.
“This is for you,” he said, handing her the documents. “You can sign them later if you like, at the end of the month.”
She took the documents, and suddenly the whole thing felt real. Can I really do this? she wondered. The money was good. Really good. But maybe she needed to consider the whole too good to be true warning here.
“And this,” he said, pulling that telltale turquoise ring box out of his pocket. “Size five and a half.”
Her mouth dropped open. In lieu of a traditional diamond, it was a massive sapphire with clusters of diamond accents. “It’s…”
“It’s on loan for now,” he said. “I’ll need it back at the end of the night. Now. Let’s get going.”
He held the door open for her, acting the part of the gentleman. I guess we’re both acting.
All day long, she couldn’t get over it. Sam couldn’t believe he’d had the nerve to propose such an incredible ploy to her—and she was even more surprised that she’d said yes. She sneaked another look at him. He looked good, she had to admit. Every time she saw him, he looked better and better. Why me?
She couldn’t help but stare at the ring on the way to dinner. It fit perfectly.
“It’s like Princess Diana’s,” he told her. She blushed when she realized she’d been caught admiring it.
“It’s gorgeous,” she said.
“Sandra had demanded a so-called traditional diamond, even after I’d explained to her about the blood diamond industry, how De Beers made up the whole a diamond is forever thing, and all. But I realized when I was at Tiffany’s I’d never described her ring to my family. I figured I’d choose a ring I actually thought was beautiful enough for the girl wearing it.”
Sam flushed a deeper red. “So, uh, where are we going for dinner?”
“Pineapple and Pearls,” he said, speeding up on the highway.
“Seriously?” She was shocked. Sam had been to the upscale venue with clients before, but that was to look at spaces—not for dinner herself. It had taken all her professional gumption to not look shocked at the price tag when she was with clients.
“You don’t like it?” he asked.
She looked at him q
uizzically. Was he being serious or making fun of her?
“So, let me fill you in on the family,” he said. “My mom is harmless. She might get emotional though, fair warning. Let’s hope she took her Zoloft today. My brother, Sean, is a little shit. I guarantee you he’ll drink too much at dinner and might hit on you. But basically he’s harmless.”
“Good to know,” she said, nervously pushing at the ring with her thumb.
“And my dad is just a royal asshole. He’s… well, you’ll see. But I’m guessing he’ll be directing it at me, not you. So don’t worry too much.”
“You sure know how to put a girl at ease,” she said.
His phone buzzed. “Fuck,” he said, glancing at it.
“What?”
“Change of plans. Dinner at my parents’ place.”
“What? Why?” The idea of such an intimate surrounding threw her.
“Honestly, my father was probably always planning this. He likes to throw a wrench in things and see how I react.”
When they pulled up to the imposing house with the impeccable lawn, Sam could hardly believe it. A fleet of Audis were in the driveway. You can do this. Put on your movie star charm, she told herself.
“Ready?”
“There they are!” his mom called cheerily when he ushered Sam inside. “Sandra, sweetheart, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Let me see that ring. Oh, it’s gorgeous, Connor! But why not a diam—”
“Actually, it’s Sam,” Connor corrected his mother.
“Pardon me?”
“She goes by Sam.”
“Oh, my mistake. Would you like some Prosecco, dear?”
“Yes, Mrs. Harris, thank you,” Sam said, shining her megawatt smile at the plump older woman with perfectly coiffed silver hair.
“Not bad,” Sean said, walking into the room with a beer in hand.
“Sam, this is my brother, Sean,” Connor said as he shrugged out of his jacket.
“You got any sisters? Although I’m guessing any younger than you would be jailbait,” Sean said as he eyed her.