by J. Saman
Cocky bastard gives me a wink once he meets my eyes again and then cools his features as he turns that magnetic gaze onto Layla.
“If you’re looking for advice on medical school and specialties, I can certainly help you with that. Having been to medical school myself and being a doctor along with all of my brothers and my father, we can most definitely answer any question you have.”
“Where did you go to medical school?” Layla challenges instead of asking the obvious question: What the hell are you doing here?
“Columbia. Where do you want to go?”
“Dartmouth.”
A smile lights up Oliver’s face. “My eldest brother Kaplan went there. He’s your man if that’s the program you’re interested in.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask since Layla is no help.
He rises on the steps, his eyes holding mine. “I need to talk to you.”
“Now might not be the best time for that.” My hand swings in Layla’s direction.
His smile is undeterred. He steps down onto the sidewalk, extending his hand to my sister. “You must be Layla. Your sister told me all about you last night.”
Only I didn’t. He’s just fucking charming.
“Hi.” She shakes his hand, glancing in my direction for a hot beat before turning back to Oliver. “It’s nice to meet you. I heard about you too. I think this is the moment where I’m supposed to go inside.”
“I’ll be up in a few,” I offer.
“And I won’t be listening from the window,” Layla retorts.
Oliver chuckles under his breath and I think one slips from me too. The front door shuts behind Layla, and a few seconds later, I hear the window in my bedroom opening. I inwardly sigh.
“Can you take a walk with me?” He glances up at my apartment and then back to me. “Please?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“No. Don’t do that,” Layla groans. “I won’t be able to hear you then and she won’t tell me anything.”
“Layla,” I holler. “Close my window and go finish your homework.”
“Already done.”
I growl. “Then go see what we have to make for dinner.”
“Fine,” she grouses under her breath and a second later, the window closes with an irritating squeak.
Oliver twists to face the same direction as I am, and we start meandering along. I don’t say anything, he’s the one who sought me out, and for a few moments, neither does he. We just stroll side by side, trapped in some version of awkwardness. The problem is, I’m happy he showed up. And I’m also not happy he showed up. I’m lost in some weird dimension, stuck between stupidly giddy and tragically terrified.
I was already thinking about him too much and now he’s here.
“It’s just the two of you, right? What happened to your parents?”
I’m not sure why, but for some reason, I didn’t expect him to just come out and ask. Probably because no one ever does. People always tend to dodge the uncomfortable, but Oliver isn’t one of them.
“Yes. It’s just Layla and me now. My parents died in a car accident when Layla was only six. She was in the back seat but completely unharmed. My dad died on impact and my mom the next day in the hospital.”
“That’s… horrible. I’m so sorry. For both of you.”
“Thank you.” I pause once we’re a few houses over and look up at him, fighting the sun that’s shining down on us. The suspense is killing me, and I can no longer play this cool. “What are you doing here, Oliver? Are you here because of the photos on Twitter?”
“You ran out on me,” he says instead of actually answering me and the hurt note to his voice rocks the shell I’m trying so hard to keep in place.
I point in the direction of my house. “Now you understand why. What was I supposed to do?”
“You could have told me.”
I shake my head at his despondent tone, my hands meeting my hips, my gaze snapping down to the cracked concrete. Opening up to him wouldn’t have changed the outcome, it just would have made me more vulnerable to him.
His hand cups my jaw, lifting it until I’m forced to meet his eyes again. It’s a move he did a few times last night, and I realize Oliver likes it when I look at him. I don’t know if it’s so he can read my expression or so I can read his but looking at him likes this is dangerous. He’s gorgeous and sexy, yes, but he’s also commanding, and I can’t help but be drawn to him.
He’s magnetic and engrossing, especially close up, and every time I look at him, I feel something I know I shouldn’t. He strips me of all my armor and defenses, leaving me bare to infiltration. I can’t allow that no matter the temptation he presents.
My heart won’t survive it.
“Do you regret it?” he asks when I don’t respond.
“Regret what?”
“Last night. Being with me.”
“No,” I admit on a shaky breath. “I don’t. I had a wonderful time with you despite the madness of the reunion and the subsequent pictures it produced. But we both know the reality of this, and I didn’t see the point in prolonging something that I knew wouldn’t be prolonged.”
His features harden. “You didn’t give it the chance to.”
God. Is he even serious about that? Doesn’t he know his reputation? The things he told me? Not once did he indicate he wanted something beyond last night. No, it was easier to leave him before he left me. Necessary even.
“I’m sorry I ran out and didn’t tell you beforehand. You’re right, I shouldn’t have done that. But the reality of our situation is unchanged.”
His hand cups my cheek as he stares deeply into my eyes. “That’s actually what I’m here to talk to you about.”
I blink a few times, my eyebrows pinching in. “I don’t understand.”
He grins. “You said the same thing last night when I proposed a fake relationship and I’m actually here today with the same offer.”
I take a step back and his hand falls to his side though his gaze doesn’t waver. I cup my hand over my eyebrows so I can see him better as I fight the sun. “What are you talking about?”
He blows out a breath, scanning the sidewalk and other than a guy mowing the small lawn in the front of his house across the street and two houses down, it’s pretty empty out here. “You saw the press, right?”
I nod. “I saw what Layla showed me on Twitter.”
“Well, it’s a hell of a lot more than just Twitter. We’re in every major Boston publication as well as some national entertainment rags.”
A gasp hits my lips that I just as quickly stifle with my hand. “Why?”
“Because I’m an Abbot-Fritz, Amelia. My family is the twelfth wealthiest in the world. The Abbot foundation owns more of this city than I can even think about and funds about sixty percent of its charities. All of my brothers, as well as my father, are prominent doctors, and my sister is an ICU nurse. People follow us, especially my brothers’ and our dating life. Me getting engaged to a woman they don’t know about is big news.”
“An influencer.”
He throws his hands up in the air. “For better or worse, that seems to be the case.”
“Can’t we just say it was all a joke?”
He shakes his head immediately. “Think of how that will look. The scandal that will create. What that will do to my family and my reputation as a doctor. I can’t come out and tell the world it was all a lie.” He grabs my waist, dragging me in a few inches and leaving his hands there. “Amelia, there is more to this than just the media and I’m about to ask you for a huge favor you’re not going to want to do.”
I swallow, nervously licking my lips. “What? Just say it.”
“My mom is sick. She has recurrent breast cancer that is now stage three. She is set to undergo a double mastectomy and chemo. When I spoke to her this morning, she remembered you from high school and was so overwhelmingly ecstatic that you and I were engaged. I had put my great-grandmother’s ring on your finger, and she beli
eves that meant it was the real deal because when she gave me the ring to give to Nora, I promised her I would never put that ring on someone’s hand unless I meant it.”
“Jesus, Oliver.” I scrub my hands over my face and back through my hair. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I fucked up. I’m saying I put us in a not-so-favorable position. I’m asking if you would consider being my fake fiancée just a little longer. A few months maybe and then we can come out and say it just didn’t work out between us.”
I stare up at him, flabbergasted. “So you want me to lie to your mother and the media for a few months?”
“I know it sounds bad—”
“Bad?” I bite out incredulously, shoving him back and off me. “It’s ridiculous. I don’t like lying. I don’t want to lie to your mother. When I was applying to Wilchester, she was nice to me. She’s the one who approved my scholarship. Not only is it wrong, but no one will believe we’re engaged. We don’t know anything about each other. We’re complete and total opposites. Your mother will know instantly that it’s a lie. I’ll be painted as an opportunistic gold-digger. This will never work.”
“Calm down.”
“Calm down?!” Is he kidding me with that? How on earth can I calm down? Doesn’t he realize what he’s asking of me? What pretending to be engaged to him for a few months will do to me? How easy it is to get attached to someone like him and I cannot get attached to him. My heart can’t take the inevitable loss. Not again.
“Yes, you’re freaking out. It will work because they’ll want to believe it.” His steady hands grip my twitching hips as he grabs me again, his gaze imploring. “What can I give you to convince you to do this for me?”
“You’re trying to buy me off?”
He has the grace to wince. “There has to be something you want or need.”
Wow. That seriously stings. “Yeah. For you to fuck off.”
I shove against his chest, pushing him away and storming off toward my apartment, ready to leave him standing here and never look back when he stops me dead in my tracks. “What about Layla? If not for you, what about her?”
I idle in the middle of the sidewalk with my back to him, my eyes shut and my breathing ragged. I’m so angry and confused and scared. God, I’m so scared. It’s all I ever am, day in and day out, and this just made my chronic low bubbling fear ratchet up a million degrees. Some days I have no idea how I’ll make it through.
Now I have no idea how I’ll make it through him.
His hands meet my shoulders, and my teeth sink into my bottom lip. His touch already undoes me. I don’t want to take his money. If I take his money, arrangement or not, it makes me feel sleazy. But the truth is, Layla needs this chance at Wilchester. The one I can’t fully provide for her.
And if she doesn’t get it, she’ll be crushed.
She’s already lost so much in her life I can’t bear for her to lose this too.
“It’s just a few months, Amelia. You’d make my mother so happy during a time when happiness is in short supply. We’ll go in public on a few dates. Hold hands. Kiss for the cameras. I’ll shield you from my mother as much as I can, so we keep the lying to a minimum. I know you don’t give a shit about my money. If you did, you would have reacted very differently to my offer. But if there is anything I can do for you or Layla, I’d really like to help. Just name it.”
“Wilchester,” springs from my lips before I can stop it.
“What?”
“Layla has an interview there in two weeks. She wants to go for their honors program. She’s gifted and the school she’s in now…” I trail off, shaking my head, my face falling toward the ground, hating the words as they spew from me, one after the other. “She needs a full ride for tuition. I can figure out books and uniforms for her, but they don’t do full rides, only partial. When I went, I was able to go because my dad worked there, and I had a partial scholarship to make up the other half. That’s not the case anymore. Given Layla’s grades, my academic history there, and the fact that our father worked there, they’re willing to meet with her anyway to see if we can work something out.”
Like a payment plan that will sink me even deeper into a hole with no escape.
“You want Layla to get a full ride to Wilchester for high school.”
It’s not a question, but I nod all the same. “Yes.” I spin around in his arms and stare up at him. “If I agree to do this with you, I need Layla to get a full scholarship for all four years of high school. I don’t want your money, Oliver. You’re dead-on right with that. But I know you have strings you can pull—”
“Consider it done,” he interrupts.
My eyes pop out of my head. “Seriously? Just like that?”
“Yes. Just like that. Layla will not pay a cent for anything at Wilchester. Her tuition, books, uniforms, nothing. I promise.”
A strangled sob catches in the back of my throat and my body starts shaking so uncontrollably, I can hardly continue to stand upright. Oliver wraps his arms around me, his face planting in my neck. And for a moment, he just breathes me in, holding me so close and so tight. Keeping me from collapsing to the sidewalk beneath us.
“Is that a yes?” he whispers against me.
“Yes,” I reply, my voice hoarse, cracking on the end. There is no other option now. If he can do this for Layla, then I’ll do whatever he asks of me. I still don’t like it, but if it’s only for a few months, I can do that. In fact, I’m getting a hell of a lot more out of this than he is. “Thank you.”
He chuckles, his hot breath brushing along my exposed skin. “Don’t thank me. I’ve gotten us into quite a mess.”
“I think we both did that. If this is going to work, we have a lot to talk about and figure out.”
“We do,” he agrees, planting a kiss on my neck and making me shake again, only this time it has nothing to do with Layla going to Wilchester. “Bonus, I think we’ve got the physical part of this fake relationship down.”
I grin into his chest, inhaling the addictive scent of him. “I didn’t say I was sleeping with you again. Not a whore, Oliver.”
“Not a whore, Amelia. I get it. But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna try for more time with this sexy body of yours.” He plants another kiss on my neck, pulling back and cupping my face. “There’s a lot to discuss, but unfortunately, we’re expected at my parents’ place for a family dinner in about an hour or so.”
“We’re expected?”
“Yup.” He grins impishly, taking my hand and sliding the diamond back on, both of us staring at it as it sparkles like fire against the sun. “You’re officially my fake fiancée again, Amelia. Time to go meet your future in-laws.”
Oh my god. What did I just agree to?
8
OLIVER
Amelia doesn’t know this, but her request is the easiest side of this arrangement. I’ve been sitting in their tiny kitchen for the last fifteen minutes while Amelia freaks out about meeting my family. She’s changed her outfit at least a dozen times and I think she’s finally onto her hair and makeup. In the meantime, it’s just Layla and me.
And let me tell you, Layla is fucking smart.
Not just that, she’s fun. A lot like Amelia was last night.
Not the high-strung woman she is now, but given the situation, I can’t exactly blame Amelia for that. It’s obvious her life isn’t simple or easy, but she does whatever she can for Layla.
Amelia’s a good person. An honest person. A person I admire and respect.
So getting this kid a full-boat ride to Wilchester is total cake. My mother isn’t on the board any longer, but our family still gives a lot of money in endowments to the school. It will seriously just take one phone call to the admissions office, and it’ll be done.
Bonus for me, I get to have a hot as sin woman on my arm for the next few months. Having a fiancée, fake or otherwise, also takes a lot of the dating pressure off me. I can just focus on my mom and finishing up my residency without
any of the added pressure that comes with women trying to get into my pants and my wallet.
So, there’s that.
But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to spend more time with Amelia. I’m strangely more comfortable being myself with her than I have been with anyone else with the exception of my family and closest friends. I was in her presence for ten minutes last night and I spilled the entire Nora beans without so much as a blip of concern that she’d run off to the press about it.
Being with her is fun. It’s easy. She’s hot and smart and I haven’t stopped fantasizing about her mouth all damn day. Whether it’s screaming my name or reprimanding me or just sassing the hell out of me, I can’t get enough of it.
But meeting Layla is a game-changer. I can’t imagine all Amelia deals with being alone while trying to raise a teenager.
It makes me want to do more for them.
Maybe get them a nicer place where the furniture isn’t older than all three of us combined and the walls aren’t sagging. Preferably a place with AC because it’s only the end of April, but it feels like July up here on the third floor. I already know Amelia would never go for any of that. She doesn’t want my money or my help.
She’s only doing this because like my brother said to do, I made her an offer she couldn’t refuse.
“How are you gonna play this?” Layla asks, resting her chin on her linked hands, staring at me like she’s getting ready to fuck up my whole world. “What are you going to use for your meet-cute?”
“Huh?” I rasp out, my eyebrows at my hairline.
She rolls her eyes at me like I’m a moron. She’s been doing that a lot since I sat down with her. No one makes you feel stupider or more outgunned than a teenager.