by Lexi C. Foss
“And you can do that from anywhere as long as you have a computer, Wi-Fi, access to a print shop, and maybe an office for meetings. Correct?”
“Yes. What are you getting at?”
He enjoyed another bite and licked his lips. “I travel a lot for work, but there’s internet on my jet and in all my hotels. The funds set aside for your marketing firm could be used for equipment, like computers and software, and could also be used to contract with printing companies. I believe the only outstanding item is an office for meetings. Is Chicago your preferred location?”
The innocent question was laced with a hidden agenda. I could see it in his too-perceptive gaze. He wasn’t just asking me about work. “I like Chicago, but I told you a long time ago that I would be open to other cities if the opportunity was right.”
He considered that over another spoonful of ice cream. “My headquarters is in New Orleans, as is my primary estate, but I, too, would move for the right opportunity.”
I set my empty bowl on the nightstand and turned toward him. “What exactly are we negotiating here? Where I want to manage my firm from if I agree to your partnership, or where I want to live?”
“We’ll start with where you want an office when you agree to my partnership.”
“If I were to agree, I would be open to options. I want to be in a big city with a popular airport, making it easy to fly potential clients in or travel to meetings.”
“You could use my jet for the latter.”
“Unless you’re using it.”
He shrugged. “We would work it out, but I’m holding you to the naked part. That’s going in the contract.”
Of course he remembered my promise to forgo clothes on his jet. “I want to update that clause to make your nudity mandatory, too.”
His eyebrows shot up. “I take conference calls from my plane.”
“Well, that’ll be interesting for you, then, won’t it?” I imagined being on my knees during one of his calls, making it difficult for him to concentrate. Yes, please.
“We’ll draft a clause that says naked when appropriate.” He pressed a finger to my lips when I would have suggested another edit. “Where do you want to live, Sarah?” His serious tone wiped the smile from my face.
“I’m okay living with Rachel in Chicago.” I wasn’t sure what he meant. “Unless . . . are you asking me where I want to live . . . with you?” It was a stupid question. What else could he mean?
He placed his bowl on the table and turned to me. “Let’s clarify a few things so there are no miscommunications between us. First, I love you. Second, I want to invest in your firm because I think it’s a smart business decision. Third, I want to live with you. And lastly, marriage still isn’t my favorite institution, but I would like to marry you. Maybe not tomorrow or next week, but I’d like to discuss your feelings on it. I’m not proposing again until I know where you are with all this and with us.”
My mouth stopped working. It hung open while words piled up in my throat, but no sound escaped. Marriage? He couldn’t be serious. Had we known each other long enough to get married? No. But I loved him. No man would ever mean as much to me as Evan did. His devotion to his employees, his passion for his work, the way he praised and valued my career, and his overall care for me as a person were all traits I admired about him.
“Oh, I forgot one stipulation I want to discuss. Your photographer eye is useful for location scouting, so I want you to accompany me on future trips abroad when looking at potential properties. I’m not negotiating this one. Iceland was a unique experience for me, and I have every intention of repeating that experience.”
“Is that even a job?”
“Sure, I can make it one. You’ll be a contractor or something.”
“Aren’t there laws against hiring a spouse or relative as a contractor?”
He grinned. “Maybe. How would you feel if I made it a personal job and paid you with orgasms?”
Heat crawled up my neck. “Uh”—I cleared my throat—“yeah, I think I would be okay with that.”
“Perfect. Garrett’s going to love drafting this contract.”
“We’re not really . . . I can’t . . . Rachel can’t read this.” I loved my best friend, but there were some things that needed to remain between me and Evan.
The wicked glint in his gaze made my pulse race. “How about we write up the agreement together and sign it without lawyers present.”
“It won’t be legal that way.”
“No, but it’ll be sealed in love and faith. Isn’t that what marriage is about anyway? Trusting someone enough to share your life with him or her forever?”
“You’re serious about this marriage thing.” He kept saying it without cringing or trying to jump out the window. “Who are you, and what did you do with Evan Mershano?”
He brushed his knuckles against my cheek and down my neck. “He fell in love with a girl, and she changed everything.” His gentle tone wrapped around my heart and squeezed. “I spent most of my life watching my father destroy my mother. She couldn’t leave him because she had nowhere else to go, and I always blamed the institution for that. But marriage isn’t their problem; their choices are the problem. My father chooses to cheat, and my mom chooses to ignore it. It’s my decision whether or not I live that way. Marriage has nothing to do with it.”
“Have we known each other long enough to get married? I mean, our entire relationship was on a dating show.” I hated pointing out my concerns, but it needed to be said. Otherwise this would never work.
“Which is why I propose we get engaged, but not get married right away. Couples do that all the time, and I don’t see any reason for us to be different. But I do want to live with you. The show taught me to be more comfortable with delegating responsibilities, which means fewer business trips and more time at home with you. Although, I meant what I said about you accompanying me abroad. You can work from the jet or the hotel, and fly back as needed. I want to support your work as much as possible, so if you want to stay in Chicago, I’m open to it.”
“Did you just somewhat propose to me somewhere in there?” Because that’s what it sounded like. I propose we get engaged . . .
His dimples flashed. “Want me to get down on one knee again, Miss Summers?”
“I’m serious. Did you just propose?”
“I suggested we get engaged, yes. But I didn’t propose formally.”
“But you want to get engaged, and you’re willing to move to Chicago. For my work.” It was meant to be rhetorical, my brain computing everything he’d just said, but he nodded in confirmation.
“Yes.”
I never in my wildest dreams expected this to happen, but it told me everything I needed to know. He loved me. Not that I doubted his earlier sincerity, but now I knew with every fiber of my being that this man loved me. And I loved him.
I straddled his lap and cradled his face between my palms. “Yes.” I brushed my lips against his and smiled. “To all of it except living in Chicago. Your home is in New Orleans. Loving you is more than enough reason to move, and as you pointed out, I can do my work from anywhere as long as I have a computer. So, yes. To everything.”
“Care to seal that promise with a kiss?”
“Absolutely.”
His fingers wove through my dark strands, our lips a hairsbreadth apart. “As always, it was a pleasure negotiating with you, Miss Summers.”
“Likewise, Mister Mershano.”
Epilogue
For three months, we kept our relationship a secret from the media and Evan’s parents while the show aired on television. That all ended tonight.
Joseph sat in a plush chair center stage, while Evan, Amber, and I sat on a couch beside him. The final episode of The Prince’s Game aired last night, and we were here for the final interview. A tell-all of sorts that would floor everyone. Carrie sat with the other twenty-eight contestants off to the side in rows, watching the drama unfold. She was in charge of asking the girls questions, while Joseph
interviewed us.
Amber tried to stroke Evan’s thigh again, making me bite my tongue. The engagement ring I couldn’t wear in public was hiding in his pocket. I placed it there after our make-out session in the limo. He looked so damn sexy in that three-piece suit, I couldn’t keep my hands off of him. My sleek red dress seemed to have the same effect on him, as he couldn’t stop caressing the slit up my left thigh.
“So what was going through your mind that last night, Sarah? Why did you run in the middle of Evan’s proposal?” I could tell these were the questions Joseph wanted to ask most, because his brown eyes glistened with excitement. He was hoping for a juicy story, and tonight, he would be rewarded.
“Well, a lot of things, really. Primarily the fact that I wasn’t ready to accept his proposal yet, and that I wasn’t sure of his true intentions. Being surrounded by cameras all the time made it difficult to discern reality from fiction.” Evan fought a grin at my jibe, while Joseph failed to notice.
“But anyone watching the show could see you loved him. How could you turn your back on that?”
“I can say it wasn’t easy.” Truth. “But I wasn’t sure Evan felt the same way, and I didn’t want him to propose for the sake of proposing.”
“Evan, how do you feel about that? The world watched your heart break last night when Sarah turned you down. Tell us what was going through your mind at that moment.”
“A lot of curse words, Joseph.” That earned Evan a few giggles from the girls. They all shot daggers my way with their eyes. With the exception of Amber, none of them knew until yesterday that I’d turned him down. It placed me on their list as public enemy number one. I did not receive a welcome reception in the green room. “But you know, it’s an interesting thing. Sarah’s right. We weren’t ready. There were too many misconceptions between us born by the situation, putting neither of us in the proper mind-set to get engaged at the time.”
“So wait, what are you saying, Evan? That you and Sarah might be ready now? To give it another shot?” The hope was apparent in his voice and seemed genuine.
“I don’t know.” Evan looked at me and smiled. “Would you ever consider it? Doing it all over again without the cameras?”
Shocked silence from all corners of the room met his words while my lips curled up into a small grin. “You know I would.” He went to his knee in front of me and grabbed my hands in one of his.
“I think of you every day,” he murmured.
“I think of you, too, Evan,” I whispered. Tears pricked my eyes as he repeated the words from his proposal last week. This wasn’t the reveal we planned for tonight. My prince, always full of surprises.
“I wouldn’t change that night. It’s what needed to happen between us to erase all the misconceptions and teach us both to believe in love. Our love. You know how I feel about you now, Miss Summers. You know it was never a charade, never meant for the cameras, and only meant for you. I only ever wanted you, and I’ll only ever love you. Be mine, Miss Summers. Write a new contract with me, one underlined in vows we’ll forever promise to one another.” He pulled the ring from his jacket, making everyone in the room gasp. “Marry me, Sarah.”
It wasn’t the exact wording he used in Iceland when he got down on one knee, but it was close. I smiled down at him. “You already know my answer, Mister Mershano.”
“I do, but I want to hear it again.” Then he whispered so that only I could hear, “Again.” His dimples peeked up at me. “Please.”
“Yes.” I let him slide the rock onto my finger and smiled. “Always yes.” He kissed me while everyone broke out into applause and excitement. “I mean,” I whispered against his lips, “how could I say no to such a fine ass?”
THE END
Prologue
A little over four months ago . . .
My best friend had lost her mind.
A contract.
To stay on a reality dating show that she never wanted to be part of anyway.
For money.
I still couldn’t believe it.
Oh, the terms were straightforward: pretend to date “The Prince of New Orleans” and refuse his proposal during the last episode, and then he would fund her private marketing firm. An easy bargain, sure, except it required her to give up her job and livelihood for a man she hardly knew on the promise that he would follow through in the end.
Okay, so the agreement his attorney drafted was solid, but a billionaire like Evan Mershano could easily find a way out of it. And then my best friend would be left picking up the pieces of a broken life, while he walked away unscathed.
And what was worse, Sarah Summers’s involvement with said billionaire had introduced me to his overconfident, sexy-as-sin cousin, who refused to leave my apartment.
“You.” I pointed a finger at Will Mershano and narrowed my gaze. “Get off my bed.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He planted his feet on the floor and stood to his six-foot-whatever height and flashed me an amused look. “I can’t say that’s ever happened to me before.”
“Happy to be your first.” I cringed. That was the second time tonight I had said that to him. The damn man had followed me home from the office after showing up unannounced with a Mershano-stamped legal contract. One Sarah had requested I personally review. As her best friend, and the only attorney she knew, I was the obvious choice. Much to my chagrin.
“Shouldn’t you, I don’t know, be leaving? There is a Mershano Suites a few blocks over.” And his cousin, the same one propositioning Sarah, owned it.
“There is, but it’s much easier to stay here.” He moved past me to the kitchen, where he started going through my wine collection.
“You’re not staying here.” If he found out, there’d be hell to pay, and I really didn’t need to give him a reason to bother me. Not now. Not ever.
Will pulled a bottle from my fridge and eyed the label. “Not a bad brand.” He found the corkscrew in a drawer and started opening it without permission.
“Did you not hear a word I just said?”
He opened a cabinet to pull out two wine glasses. How he found them on his first try was anybody’s guess, but it seemed to fit his personality perfectly. He expertly served the wine while I stared at him in shock.
Who is this man, and why is he in my personal space?
Oh, right. My best friend sent him to me.
I picked up my phone and started typing an angry message, when a generous pour of red wine appeared in my peripheral vision.
“Hint of apple. Nice,” Will murmured after a sip from his glass. “I prefer my personal reserve, but this will do for the evening.” He padded barefoot over to my couch and made himself at home.
“Are you hard of hearing?” I asked. Because that would be lovely. He needed some sort of flaw to detract from his thick blond hair, perfect jaw structure, high cheekbones, and muscular stature.
He kicked his feet up onto the cushion as he rotated to face me. “So what contract amendments does Sarah want you to make?”
I folded my arms. “Is that why you’re still here? Because I think your supervising my work all day was quite enough, don’t you?”
“I promised Evan I would oversee this entire exchange personally.” His chocolate gaze danced appreciatively over my blouse, pencil skirt, and stockings. “And I take my job very seriously.”
My tongue hurt from biting it so hard. Less than twelve hours of knowing this overconfident, sexy-as-sin billionaire, and I wanted to kill him. He ruined an otherwise perfect day by showing up unannounced, and then he followed me home like I couldn’t be trusted. “I already signed the nondisclosure agreement.”
He shrugged. “That means little to me. You could still violate it.”
“And risk my job in the process? No, thanks.” This might be a personal favor for a friend, but it could still hurt my career if I violated any of the terms Evan’s private legal team drafted. Garrett Wilkinson was not an attorney I wanted to piss off. “I don’t require a babysitter, Mister Mer
shano.”
He eyed me over the rim of his glass. “Oh, I’m well aware of what you require, Miss Dawson.”
I snagged the crystal stem from the counter and took a healthy sip of wine. It felt like heaven against my throat and helped calm some of my nerves. “You’re not going to leave, are you?”
“Not until we’re done,” he confirmed. “As I said, I take my job seriously.”
“I bet you do,” I muttered, rolling my eyes as I snuggled into the oversized chair beside the couch with my laptop and wine. If he was hell-bent on finishing this contract tonight, then I’d stay up as late as he wanted, so long as it meant he’d leave sooner.
“You know, Mershano Vineyards is in the market for a corporate attorney to help with some international acquisitions. It’d be a big job, I think, and would require overseeing a legal team.”
“That’s nice,” I replied as I pulled up the legal document Garrett sent over an hour ago to review the edits I requested earlier this afternoon.
“Someone with your skill set might be a good fit,” he continued.
“You’d need someone with a lot more experience than my four years, Mister Mershano.” My experience qualified me to join the team, maybe, but not lead it.
“I think that’s for me to decide,” he murmured. “And I think you’d be a good fit, darlin’. We should work together.”
I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of me. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Ever.”
He cocked his head to the side and rubbed a thumb over his bottom lip as he considered me in a manner that sent a shiver down my spine. Oh, that look is trouble . . .
Challenge oozed from him, thickening the air around us. “Hmm, we’ll see, Miss Dawson, won’t we?”
1. The Business Proposal
“Didn’t we just do this?” I asked, studying all the boxes in my guest room. All of them were marked “Sarah Summers,” just like last time.
“Yep.” Sarah made a popping sound on the p and flashed me a brilliant smile. “But we don’t have to carry them this time.”