He nods. "She's always worried about me. After my father, it makes sense, but I don't want her to die worrying."
"What about your father?"
He brushes it off like he didn't hear it. "We need to sell this. We need to convince her we're madly in love."
"Why not tell her the truth?"
He looks me right in the eyes. "She thinks her marriage cursed us. She's still guilty she stayed with him."
"But why would she be guilty?"
This, too, he brushes off. I dip my hair, rinsing out all the shampoo and most of the products. When I break the surface, Blake is waiting with a bottle of conditioner.
He runs it through my hair. "If you have any objections, I'd like to get them out of the way."
"You're pretty much at my mercy," I say. "I mean, you've already proposed to me. You can't find a new fake girlfriend now."
His fingertips graze my forehead. "I want you. Not anyone else."
"You're stuck with me."
"No, I want you."
I pull back and duck my head into the water to rinse the conditioner. This is the first real moment of quiet I've had all night. Thoughts swirl around my brain. Objections. Encouragement. I barely know Meryl, but I know enough to want her happy.
Even if it's a lie. Surely, a lie that makes you happy must be better than a truth that hurts you.
Tension builds between my shoulders. It doesn't feel right. She's a kind woman. I'd hate to lie to her, even if it means she'll die happy.
"I don't even know what I would be objecting to," I say. "Are we going to stay engaged until she... until she passes, or are you rushing to get married while she's still alive."
"I want her at the wedding."
"But, you said three months. You can't expect to plan a wedding that fast."
He shakes his head. "I could have a wedding planned tomorrow if I wanted." His voice gets low. "Money can buy just about anything you want."
I shift back. "Well, I'm not a thing and you can't buy me. Got it?"
Something in him changes. He nods. All steely and determined. "Think about this practically. I'll ask you to sign a prenup. We'll go through a typical negotiation process. I'll pay for your lawyer."
"So what? You're offering me more money. You can't buy me, Blake. Not with the mortgage or with my sister's college or with half your damn company."
"You don't want money?" It's more a challenge than a question.
"Only enough to live," I say.
"So take the money and live for years." He leans closer. "You'll have enough to put your sister through her PhD, to put yourself through school, to buy a beach house and summer in the Hamptons."
"My sister will hate me for lying to her." I bite my lip. The money is a comforting thought.
"What would you do if you never had to work again?" He stares at me with big, earnest eyes. "Do you really want to spend your life serving other people?"
It's the first time I've seen him this earnest.
"Does your mother mean that much to you?" I ask.
He nods. "I'm going to convince you to go along with this."
Uncertainty wells up inside of me. That could be a lot of money, and money gets you out of all sorts of problems.
I study Blake's expression. This means a lot to him. It must mean a lot to Meryl. It's a few months of lying to make someone happy.
I can survive that.
"Okay," I say. "But only if I can get Lizzy on board with it."
"Kat."
"I'm not going to negotiate on this," I say. "She'll want to meet you and understand everything we're doing."
Blake holds my gaze. He nods. "I'll find a break in my schedule."
I savor my minor victory. "I'm not doing this for your benefit. It's for Meryl."
Blake nods. He offers his hand and we shake.
And there it is. Within the next three months, I'll be married to Blake.
I only hope the divorce is this amicable.
***
I arrive home at 3 A.M. Lizzy is sitting on the couch with a worried look on her face.
"What the hell?" She pulls her phone from her pocket and opens her web browser to a gossip site. "Tech CEO Blake Sterling Engaged to Everyday Girl." She makes eye contract. "Quite the fucking compliment."
"It's a school night," I say.
"I'm not going to school tomorrow. I won't hear the end of it."
"Well, I have work."
"I'm eighteen. I don't need you to watch me. And from the looks of things, you don't really need to work."
She stares at me like she's looking for a crack, something she can use to get me to confess. I'm back in jeans and a sweater. Most of my fancy clothes are in Blake's apartment. He'll probably want me there soon. Until his mom... I don't even want to think it.
"We don't lie to each other. That's the deal, remember?" She pouts. "The two of us against the world, because the world is obviously against us."
"Of course." That's what I told her after the accident. When I realized how utterly screwed we were. Parents gone. Money gone. Lizzy battered and bruised. She missed a whole semester of school and made it up over the summer. "It's still us against the world. I promise."
"Are you going to tell me what's going on here?" she asks.
"Later, okay? I'm exhausted."
"I'll be here all day. Might as well get it out of the way now."
"Later."
"I got this today." She goes to the kitchen table and picks up an envelope. "A scholarship from your boyfriend's company. Excuse me, your fiancé’s company."
"That's great."
"Kat, you know I'll be happy for you. I'll support you in whatever this is, but only if you tell me the truth."
My chest tightens. Lizzy might not approve, but I still have to be honest with her. "Okay, I promise."
All that tension eases. This might be one big lie, but it's still Lizzy and me against the world. I'm still going to be honest with her.
"How the hell did you get me this scholarship?"
"You earned it."
"Bullshit." She slams the paper against the table. The whole thing shakes, and her glasses fall off her nose. The tough look on her face drops. "Okay, so I'm not pulling this off."
"You'd make a great bad cop." I take a seat at the kitchen table. "He suggested it. Said you'd be perfect for it no matter what, since you're a woman in STEM."
She wipes her glasses on her t-shirt. "Don't take offense here, okay, but, Kat, did he suggest this while you were on your back with your legs spread wide open?"
"Where did you learn to talk like this?"
"Sarah."
"No more sleepovers at Sarah's place." I lean back into the chair. It's been such a long day, and now my sister thinks I'm a whore. I take a deep breath trying to find a way to explain. "We have an agreement. It has nothing to do with you."
"So you're not madly in love?" she asks.
I shake my head.
"Bummer. He's hot as hell." She folds the letter. "Is this agreement some sex thing?"
"Not exactly."
She gasps. The kind of loud gasp that can only be delivered by a teenage girl.
"Yes, I am having sex with him," I say. "But that's a separate thing."
"Sounds like a crock of shit."
"I know. But it's not."
Her expression gets serious. "Don't do this for me. Whatever you're doing it for, if it's money or something else, fine. But not for me. I'll find another way to get to college."
"You already have the scholarship. It's done."
"Kat! Will you fucking listen for a minute?"
That gets my attention.
"I know you're obsessed with solving all our problems. You tried to convince me not to get a job for months."
It's true. The summer after the accident, Lizzy was desperate to get a job. She was old enough to work, but I was worried her grades would take a nosedive. They didn't, of course. She's smart, and she works damn hard.
"It's f
or me," I say. "I want to get to know Blake. I want to sleep with him. And I really want the money."
"For yourself?" Lizzy folds her arms. "Because I will find a way to pay for my own college. And I'm going to work and pay all my living expenses myself."
I bite my tongue. What's the point of getting all this money if Lizzy still has to bust her ass for the next four years? One of us deserves a break. I try to keep my voice calm and logical. My sister is a programmer. She responds to solid reasoning. "It would be a waste not to take the scholarship."
"Maybe." Her expression mellows. "So are you really engaged?"
It's a technical distinction. We're really going to get married, so we're really engaged. It's not like this will be the first loveless marriage in the history of the world. "Yeah."
"Well let me look at the damn ring then." She grabs my hand and stares at the enormous rock. "You know, his company is worth like ten or twenty billion dollars."
"I know."
"They have this side project. A chat bot they're testing on their IM program, to see if it can fool users. It's really cool." She releases my hand, bored by the ring.
Figures my nerdy little sister is more interested in chat bots than in my fake wedding. Even if both are imitations of human connection.
"He wants to meet you. You could show him your chess bot," I say. "He loves chess."
Her cheeks flush. "I couldn't. That's like you showing your sketch book to Van Gogh or something."
"You really should go to sleep. It is a school night."
"And I'm skipping."
"You're not skipping," I say.
"It's public school. I can call in sick for myself." She gets up and turns on the kettle. "You want black or green tea?"
"I'm going to sleep." I stare at the ring, hoping I won't dream about it.
"No, you're explaining this 'arrangement' to me. In full detail."
"You can't tell anyone," I say. "Not even Sarah."
"I won't. I promise."
Chapter Nine
I get off the subway five minutes before I'm due at work. Five minutes to walk eight blocks. I can manage that, even exhausted. Lizzy and I were up until the crack of dawn. She had a million questions, and my tired brain answered very slowly.
The noise picks up. Midtown is always loud, especially around lunchtime, but this is well beyond normal. There's a crowd around the restaurant. A dozen people at least.
"Oh my God, that's her." A camera flashes.
Great. My dumbfounded expression is caught on film for all of eternity. It's probably digital. That's even more permanent.
"Excuse me." I push through the crowd. "I'm late to work."
"Kat, please, a word about your engagement to Blake," someone shouts.
"What do you say to the rumors that you're only after his money?"
"Is it true that he drinks human blood?"
What? The idiot suggesting that must be yanking my chain. I shake my head. "It's true love. We're crazy about each other. Not enough to drink blood, but pretty damn crazy." I step into the restaurant. The door slams shut behind me, blocking out most of the noise.
Sidewalk is public property, I guess.
I hustle to the back room to drop my stuff. Four minutes late, but our system doesn't require manager approval to clock in until the end of the fifth minute. I only hope my cell phone isn't slow.
Shana greets me with a grim look. She's all about punctuality.
"Sorry," I say. "I was up late with Lizzy. Won't happen again."
"We need to talk."
Crap. I don't like the sound of that. "Is something wrong?"
"Let's sit down." She purses her lips. "Get out of the way of the back of house staff."
Great. I have to sit down to hear this. That can't be good.
I slide into one of the booths. She sits across from me. Same grim look. She shakes her head. Folds her hands. Very sorry about something.
"Listen, Kat, this isn't personal. You've been a great employee."
"For two years," I say. "I've never even called in sick in two years." This place is my second restaurant job. An upgrade from the cheap diner I used to work at. That place, I'd go home with forty bucks in tips, tops. Here, I clear one hundred most shifts. It's good money.
"I wish I didn't have to do this." She nods to the crowd outside. "But I don't have a choice. This morning, there were twenty people who came in looking for you."
"That's business."
"No, they're spectators. They're here to gawk. No one else has come in all morning." She looks at the clock on the wall. "It's almost noon, and look."
The restaurant is utterly empty. "Not the fastest day, but it's cold. It happens."
"It doesn't happen." She offers an apologetic look. "I hate to do this, but I don't have a choice. I can't operate a restaurant like this."
"It will blow over."
"I hope so. If it does, you're welcome back. And I'm happy to give you a recommendation." She throws her arms up, utterly helpless. "It's not like you need the money anymore, right?"
"I like this job."
"You're much better off with the guy. Trust me."
"But it's my job." Anger flares inside me. I work hard. I've skipped so many things for this job. Parties. Birthday dinners. Spending time with my sister.
"It's not personal." She offers a smile. "If this blows over—"
"You said that already." I reach for my messenger bag and pull out my apron and key card. "I guess these belong to you."
"Kat."
"You're firing me because of my boyfriend. Don't say my name like we're friends." I push out of the booth. "And, please, mail my final paycheck. I'd hate to come back and draw a bunch more attention to your restaurant. Who knows what kind of free press you might get?"
"I'm sorry about this!"
I turn my back and march out of the restaurant. The crowd buzzes around me. A few are reporters. A few are curious hangers-on. There are more questions but they're all a blur. Kat, Blake, money, love. It's all one big mix of that.
Money and love are the only two things people care about. Trading one for the other. Faking one for the other. It would make a great tabloid story. At least their instincts are on base.
I pick up the pace until I'm running. For ten blocks, I run and I don't look back. The city blurs around me. The chatter turns into white noise. People scream watch it as I whir past them. They turn to look at the strange woman running in black jeans and a white oxford shirt, like none of them have ever been late before.
I don't stop until I'm at Bryant Park. It's busy. Always busy around lunch. Sometimes, I stop here in the late afternoon, and there's a certain quiet to the park.
Signs of spring abound. The grass is a soft shade of green. Most of the trees are spouting leaves. Flowers are peeking out of planters. It's warm today. Well, warmer.
I take a seat on the grass. It's damp, but it's not like I'm going to wear these clothes again anytime soon. Shana was right. I don't need the money right now. I'm not happy relying entirely on Blake, but that money is freedom. That money is security.
It should be easy. I sign a prenup. Anything close to fair will be a fortune. I marry him. His mother dies. We divorce. I walk away with all the money I need to start a new life somewhere else.
I cringe. I don't want to be somewhere else. New York City is my home. I was born here. I've lived here my whole life. The city is amazing and intoxicating. There are little bursts of green between the massive buildings. There is life on every street. The neighborhoods are so different.
Once upon a time, before the accident, I would spend weekends exploring the city with my friends. It was exciting just to get out of Brooklyn.
It felt like there was an adventure waiting around every corner. The last three years, I've been sorely lacking adventure. I work, I read, I play video games with Lizzy. Whatever happened to what I wanted to do? When I was seventeen, my life was wide open with possibilities. Art school to turn my doodling hobby
into a career. A state university to study something practical. English or business, maybe. My best friend, Belle, asked me to take a gap year to travel Europe with her.
It was such an exciting thought. The two of us zipping around Europe, taking in the sights, flirting with different guys in every country. After the accident, all that went out the window. Everything I wanted or needed went out the window. Taking care of Lizzy and keeping us afloat came first.
What the hell am I going to do with myself now that I'm not giving all my attention to paying the bills? A chill passes over me, and I pull my coat a little tighter. I've ignored my hobbies, my friends, everything. There might be nothing left. When you strip away the girl desperate to get by, there might not be a Kat.
There might not be anything to me, not really.
I close my eyes and try my best to recall a typical week before the accident. School. Homework. I ran cross-country in the fall. I loved losing myself in a long run as the city whizzed by me.
I haven't gone for a run in three years. No reason. It feels like I'm running all the time, only I'm not going anywhere or racing against anything.
I used to draw. Not the way I do now—I used to draw every night for hours. I loved it. I annoyed the hell out of my friends asking them to pose as my models. In high school, I took every art elective I could. I was utterly indiscriminate. My parents discouraged art school. Wouldn't pay the bills. But the bills won't need paying soon. I can go to school, get a master’s, take a job I love that pays crap. I can ask Belle to give me another chance and pay for a year in Europe.
This money is options.
This money is freedom.
This money is security.
However hard this is, I have to deal with it. Not just for me, but for Lizzy. We've lost too much to lose this opportunity.
I spend the rest of the afternoon loading up on art books and supplies. The smell of sharpened pencils recalls so many nights spent drawing. I buy one of everything in every color. Markers, ink pens, pastels, watercolors, graphite pencils, acrylics, oils, canvases. Being in the store makes me dizzy. Something about it feels so right.
A call from Blake interrupts my bliss. When I answer, he's all business.
"We're meeting my family tomorrow. I'll send a car to your apartment at four-thirty," he says.
The Billionaire's Deal: The Complete Story: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Page 8