This dinner—it’s intimate. I’m enjoying it more than I thought I would. We haven’t discussed the business arrangements at all; we’ve just basically been on a date.
I should be worried about that, or worried about what that means, but all I can think about is how much I’m enjoying just being with him. And how much I’m enjoying the heat of his broad palm against my hand.
Max smiles at me, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I’m tough.”
I grin. “Right.”
“I bounce back, you know. Land on my feet.”
“Like a cat.”
“Exactly.”
We laugh, and my heart squeezes. This is so easy.
It’s too easy.
Too easy to slip into something else—something beyond a simple transaction. Too easy to make this complicated, and messy.
Too easy to do all the things I’m dying to do, to give in to the temptation that’s buzzing through my body anytime he’s around.
He pulls his hand away, and I clear my throat, smoothing my hands down the front of my dress.
“Should we go?” He asks, and I nod. I don’t trust my voice right now, so I just gather my things and take his outstretched hand, following him back to the car.
Chapter 17 - Max
Even though we didn’t discuss the intricate details of our arrangement last night, I still get my lawyer to draft up a contract. I send it to Naomi for her to review, with a note saying to change anything that might jump out at her.
Once it’s signed, our agreement will be legally binding. She’ll be pretending to be my fiancée for one month, with the option to extend for another month. I’ll pay her three hundred thousand dollars the first month, and two hundred and fifty the second.
It feels strange to send the contract to her. Last night felt almost like a date, and now I’m sending a cold, emotionless contract. I can’t make sense of it in my brain. It’s like the two images just don’t fit together.
I wanted to kiss her goodbye last night, but we agreed to keep physical contact to a minimum. I lean back in my chair at the office, interlacing my fingers behind my head and thinking of her face when I dropped her off.
“Well, thanks,” she’d said, smiling shyly. I’d nodded, and then she’d stuck out her hand. We laughed when we shook hands, and then she turned around and went up the steps to her apartment.
I jump when my assistant opens my office door.
“You have a call on line two,” she says, and then chews her lip.
“What is it, Allie?”
“It’s your mother.”
“Right,” I sigh. “Thanks for the heads up.”
She nods and slips back out the door. I take a deep breath, checking my computer to make sure the contract has gone through to Naomi, and then I pick up the phone.
“Hello, Mother.”
“Max, how many times have I told you not to call me that!”
“Well, you are my mother, aren’t you?”
“You’re irreverent.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
I hear her take a deep breath, and I imagine her pinching the bridge of her nose with her perfectly manicured nails. She lets the breath out slowly, and when she speaks, her voice is calm.
“I’d like to take you and Naomi out to dinner. I think it would be good for us all to get to know each other better.”
I’m not so sure about that.
“She’s pretty busy these days, the clinic is—”
“Just ask her, Max. I have a reservation at Per Se for tomorrow night.”
“Right, so you’re not really asking me, you’re telling me that we’re going out to dinner.”
She sighs again. “This is important.”
“I’m sure it is,” I say. “I gotta go, I’ve got a meeting to get to.”
I slam the phone down, pushing my chair back and standing up. I pace back and forth, trying to let the frustration dissipate. This is typical Carol Westbrook! She just bulldozes everyone and everything around her to get what she wants. No doubt we’ll end up going to the fancy French restaurant tomorrow night, and she’ll grill Naomi on her entire life story.
It’ll be uncomfortable and unnecessary. This whole thing is unnecessary! There’s no need for me to get married so quickly!
I glance at the phone on my desk again, frowning. Walking back to the other side of my desk, I dial my father’s phone number.
He picks up on the third ring. “Hello, son.”
“Dad,” I say, almost breathless. “I need to talk to you. Are you free?”
“Well, I—”
“It’s important.”
“I was just going to go up to Konnect to hit a couple golf balls. You can meet me there if you want?”
Typical. The only way my father could get away from my mother long enough to do anything in New York was to play golf.
“I’ll meet you there.”
My dad can find a golf course anywhere—even in the middle of Manhattan. The indoor golf center is just around the corner from the Rockefeller Center, and it doesn’t take long for me to get there.
When I arrive, he’s already whacking golf balls and drinking a tumbler of bourbon, surrounded by some of his friends and business associates. I imagine many business deals happen in places like this, under the guise of some leisurely golf practice.
My father’s cheeks are rosy, and the tip of his nose is red. That’s probably his second or third bourbon. He sees me and spreads his arms, beckoning me forward.
“Max! Max get over here,” he booms in the voice he uses when he’s surrounded by people who admire him. “Fellas, I want you to meet my son. If he’s lucky, he might be where I am now in a couple years.”
I stretch a smile over my face and shake hands with the men, trying to remember which one is Jim, or Bill, or Jerry. We exchange pleasantries until I can pull my father away from them. I lead him towards the bar, and we slide onto bar stools before beckoning the bartender over for another round of drinks. My father stares at the amber liquid left in his glass, and then turns to me. He stares at me through one eye and then huffs.
“So?” He asks.
My heart starts thumping, and I hate myself for being nervous to talk to my dad. I take a deep breath, accepting the drink that the bartender places in front of me and turning to my dad.
“Why are you so desperate for me to get married? I mean, showing up at my house on Sunday? Coming to the city on such short notice? Staying in the city? What’s going on?”
My father purses his lips, glancing towards the booth where his friends are laughing and patting each other on the shoulders. He turns back towards me and nods his head towards them.
“You see Jerry over there?”
I try to remember which one Jerry was, and I nod.
“We’re in the middle of an important acquisition. Jerry’s company is going to become our new international oil and gas materials division. I want you to head it.”
My eyebrows shoot up and I snap my jaw closed, trying to erase the shock from my face.
“I… what?”
“You’ve been doing well. Everyone can see it. Your numbers this quarter are the best we’ve seen in years. You’re ready.”
“Two days ago you were threatening to fire me, and now you’re telling me you’re planning to promote me?”
None of this makes sense. The acquisition, the pressure to get married, none of it.
My father takes a deep breath, as if he’s explaining something to someone incredibly dense. He might as well be, because I don’t exactly feel bright right now.
“Son, this position will have you traveling all over the world. You’ll be meeting diplomats and dignitaries, and business leaders from all over the world. Do you know why there hasn’t been a President without a First Lady?”
“Because we live in a nation with backwards ideas about family and success?”
He sighs, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.
“It
’s comments like that that make me doubt your abilities as a leader of this company, Max. I haven’t worked my whole life to watch you tear it all down.”
“I’m not tearing anything down, Dad,” I respond. “You’re a businessman, not a family planner.”
“Single men aren’t accepted in these circles,” he says, frustrated. He looks me square in the eye, taking a deep breath. “You don’t have to love her. I mean, lord knows I’ve had some trying times with your mother. But she does have to be there. She’s just as important to the success of this company as you are.”
“So this… this is business?! All this pressure to get married?”
“You’re only realizing that now?” He shakes his head, laughing bitterly. “Welcome to the real world, son.”
I say nothing, and my dad takes his drink, nodding to his friends—business partners—whatever they are.
“You want to hit a couple balls before you go back?”
“Nah, Dad, I’m good,” I say, finishing my drink. “Lots to do at the office.”
“Of course.” He pauses, turning back towards me. “Your mother has a dinner planned tomorrow night. You understand that we need to make sure she’s a suitable match, don’t you?”
Anger burns inside me. A suitable match? What is this, the fourteen-hundreds? Am I the fucking King of England or something? Last time I checked, it was the twenty-first century! Since when are wives necessary for high-ranking positions?!
I leave some money on the bar and try to stalk out of the golf center. My dad calls me over, slapping his hand on one of the guy’s back. I think it’s Jerry.
“Max, come over here!”
“I hear you’re celebrating your new engagement, congratulations,” Jerry says, eyeing me with a sly grin. “Hope she’s a good one.”
“Otherwise she’ll make your life a living hell, believe me,” Jim—or is it Bill?—guffaws. The men laugh, and a tendril of disgust curls in my stomach. I grin, tolerating their pleasantries for a few more minutes before excusing myself.
I’ll walk back to the office. The fresh air and noise will help drown out the chaotic thoughts swirling in my head. All this pressure for me to get married, all the phone calls and badgering I’ve endured—it’s all because of a business deal?
I’m not entirely surprised. This company is my parents’ entire life. But I’m supposed to just play along with their plan?
I hate myself for agreeing to this. I hate myself for stringing Naomi along with me, and I hate my parents for forcing me into this. But at the end of the day, I know I don’t want them to cut me off. I don’t want them to shut me out of my entire inheritance and the entire society that I’ve grown up in.
I need to play along, at least for now.
Chapter 18 - Naomi
“I’ve got flashcards,” I say when Max opens the door. He looks tired, but his eyes spark and a smile twitches over his lips.
“Flashcards?”
“Yep.” I dig around my huge tote, pulling out the stack of cards that’s held together with a thick elastic band. I run my thumb over the edge, making the cards slap together.
“What are the flashcards for?” Max closes the door behind me and slides onto a bar stool at the kitchen island. I take the one next to him, fishing out a bottle of wine and dropping my bag on the floor.
“They’re for studying. They’ve got facts about me, and stories about my childhood, and things that people who are engaged might know about each other. I brought blank ones for you to write on, too. And we can come up with a back story.”
Max is eyeing me as a smile plays in his eyes. I clear my throat, taking the elastic band off and reading the first card.
“Why did I get suspended from school in third grade?”
His smile widens as his eyebrow arches. He shrugs, sliding off the stool. “I’m not sure,” he says, heading towards the glass cabinet that contains expensive-looking wine glasses. He takes two out, placing them on the marble in front of me.
“Well, I started buying candy in bulk at the grocery store and re-selling it to the kids at recess.”
“That’s very entrepreneurial of you,” he grins as he digs around a drawer. He pulls out a corkscrew, and I laugh. I pick up the bottle, twisting the top open.
“Look at you, with your fancy corkscrew,” I grin. “Twist-off.” I lift the bottle up and pour some in his glass, before hesitating. “Do you want me to let the tannins mellow, or whatever? Am I supposed to let this breathe?”
“I’m sure it’s fine.” He picks up the glass and sniffs it, nodding.
“Well, you’re the one with the fancy-pants corkscrew,” I laugh. “I can’t afford wines that don’t twist off.”
He slides back into the bar stool next to me. The warmth of his body makes my head spin. “So tell me about this candy cartel you had.”
“Funny you should say that,” I answer, filling up my glass. “I got caught because I hired a couple people to distribute. They started talking a bit too much, and a teacher overheard.
“Is your last name Escobar?”
“Might as well be,” I laugh. “I was suspended for three days for that.”
“Doesn’t look like it impacted your future.”
“My mom was so mad,” I laugh. “She’s like, an artsy-fartsy type of person. She’s a painter. She couldn’t believe that I would stoop down to dirty, dirty capitalism.”
“I don’t think your mom would like my parents,” he grins. “They are the epitome of capitalism.” He takes a sip of wine and his eyebrows raise. “That’s not bad, actually.” He looks at his glass with appreciation.
“You know, they had this experiment where they had the top sommeliers in the world taste the most expensive wines and the cheapest ones, and a lot of them couldn’t tell the difference.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Don’t ask me any details about it though, because I don’t know them.” I laugh. “So you shouldn’t turn your nose up at my humble twist-off bottle.”
“I’m not turning my nose up at anything,” Max says, leaning against the counter and staring at me. His eyes drop to my lips. A shiver passes down my spine and I clear my throat.
I came here after Max called me and told me his mother had a dinner planned for tomorrow. I was prepared to tell him about my life, to learn about his, and to come up with a believable back story for us. I printed and signed the contract.
I’m here to get paid. I’ll pretend to be his fiancée for a month, maybe two, and I’ll have enough money to pay for my mom’s treatments. It’s supposed to be simple.
But it’s not.
Right here is where he kissed me. Where I kissed him. In his house—this is where I felt my whole body turn to liquid heat as his hands sank into my hips and pulled me into him.
Every time he looks at me, I need to squeeze my thighs together to try to ignore the desire that flames to life inside me.
I clear my throat.
“What about you, you ever been suspended?”
“No,” he replies. “Model student.”
“Of course,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Mr. Goodie-Two-Shoes.”
“I did light a small campfire on the school grounds, but I ran away when a teacher came to investigate. My friend Joel took the blame.”
I drop my jaw in mock horror. “You let your friend take the fall for you?”
“I know, I know. Coward.”
“Awful. I might have to call this wedding off.”
He grins, leaning closer to me. His eyes are glued on mine and I can’t look away. I don’t want to look away. I want to get lost in the blue depths of his gaze and melt against him. I want to smell his hair and feel my skin spark when he touches me.
As if he can read my mind, he puts his hand on my thigh. Even through my jeans, the heat of the contact makes my head spin. The space between my legs turns to fire as my heartbeat races in my chest.
It would be so easy to kiss him—and more. I could just lean over and press my lip
s against his. I could let my body do the talking, and run my fingers over his chiseled chest. I could reach down between his legs and feel his length against my palm, and do all the things that my body is begging me to do.
Instead, I glance down and take a sip of wine. I grab my bag from the floor and fish out the thick contract. Max straightens, clearing his throat and taking a sip of wine. He drops his hand from my thigh and I miss his touch the instant his hand slips away.
“I signed this.”
“Did you have a lawyer look it over?”
I laugh. “Yes, I called the lawyer I have on retainer. She cleared her schedule to look it over.” I glance at him, eyebrow raised. “You and I live in very different worlds, Mr. Westbrook.” He grins, and I continue. “I read it, and it seems fine. It’s signed, anyways. Here.”
I slide the papers over, and he pushes them to the side. “I’m more interested in the flashcards right now.”
My heart flutters and my lips twitch into a grin. I nod, handing him a stack of blank ones. “Write down some facts about yourself. We need to come up with a good story about how we met.”
“We met at physio.”
“I know, but we need details. How, when, what’s happened since then. That kind of thing. I only met your mom for a few minutes, but she won’t be satisfied with ‘we met at physio’.”
Max chuckles and nods. “That’s probably true.”
“Did you ask them why they want you to get married so badly? You told me you thought it was weird, even for them.”
He looks away from me, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “No, not yet.” I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t.
Not wanting to push the issue, I just nod.
“Okay, come on, let’s get to work.” I fish out a pen from my bag and hand it to him. I top off our wine and try to forget about the ache between my legs and the fire in my veins.
Chapter 19 - Max
My heart skips a beat when Naomi appears at her apartment door. She looks incredible. Her red hair is falling in loose waves around her shoulders, and the way her navy dress is hugging every curve is doing crazy things to my body. Earrings are glittering next to her face as she tucks her hair behind her ear, clutching a small purse an making her way down the steps.
Engaged to Mr. Right: A Fake Marriage Romance (Mr. Right Series Book 1) Page 8