Weston had gathered all the darts by then, but he stood frozen, listening to me, as though he didn’t dare to turn around, as though afraid any movement might break my monologue, and the honest truth was, it might.
I would have never said any of this to Donovan. I would probably never have said any of this to Weston if he were facing me. If those blue eyes were boring into me, I’d have assumed he could already see into my soul.
But while his back was turned, right here in this moment, the truth continued to pour out. And even though he was just a stranger politely listening, it felt good to lay everything out.
So I went on.
“I took poli-sci as my undergrad because it doesn’t matter what your bachelor’s degree is before you get your MBA, and I thought a background in politics could be helpful. And I like politics. But now I’m woefully unprepared, and I’m watching Darrell run, and systematically dismantle, this company. I could let this go. I could take the next four years to become the best business leader possible, to find out everything that I need to know to lead an empire of this extent.”
I took a step toward him.
“But if I wait, it would be selfish. It would be because I don’t feel ready. Because I’m scared. Meanwhile, there are hundreds of thousands of other people depending on that company to be their livelihood, and others depending on it to be the place they look to for quality entertainment and programming. If I have a chance to change the lives of the people, the women who work for him, if I have a chance to change the lives of the people who watch entertainment put out by Dyson Media, and if that chance makes those lives better... Weston, I feel like I have to take that chance. Whether I’m ready or not.”
I turned away with a sigh. I’d said everything, and now I felt dumb. Too dumb to even be able to face his backside.
Behind me, I could hear the rustle and shuffle of movement. He stopped a foot or two behind me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body, smell his cologne. It made me flushed and dizzy and my heart started to race.
“I could teach you,” he said quietly.
“What?” I turned to face him, not understanding what he meant.
“I’ll teach you about business while we’re together.” He tossed the darts back onto his desk and jammed his hands back into his pockets, admittedly a very arresting look. “A tailored, condensed MBA. Everything you need to know to find the right people to run the company. Everything you need to know to make sure you’re not being taken advantage of. The Weston King Crash Course in Business.”
My skin felt itchy and my insides were fluttering.
Too many times, though, I’d gotten excited by promises from my father, promises he didn’t ever keep. I’d listened to my mother ask what the quid pro quo was so many times.
I’d learned from both parents. I’d learned to be circumspect.
I tilted my head, my mouth parted slightly. “And why would you do that, exactly? My advertising company can’t possibly be worth that much to you.”
Weston threw his head back in a way that said he wasn’t really sure why he’d made the offer.
But then he said, “Let’s just say I have a soft spot for companies that are vulnerable. And Donovan wants it. And I owe Donovan. We’ll leave it at that.”
I studied him for another moment. It didn’t feel like a bad idea, but I also knew that you weren’t supposed to use feelings in business—I wasn’t completely ignorant in the field. I couldn’t see a downside, though, either, anyway I looked at it.
And I really wanted my father’s company. The more obstacles I faced—the more everyone else told me that I couldn’t—the more I needed to do it, if only to prove I could to myself.
“Okay,” I said, such a little word to begin such a big arrangement. But all mighty things started out small. Even the Mississippi River started in some little puddle of bubbling water somewhere.
Weston nodded once, taking it in. Then he drew in a breath, and I could see he was really taking it in, maybe even kind of regretting it.
My stomach dropped.
Then his expression changed as he suddenly had an idea. “Let’s do this right.” He reached into his suit pocket, and I wrinkled my nose as I tried to peer over and see what he was doing. A second later, he pulled out a small box and set it in the palm of his hand.
Immediately, I started giggling.
“Stop giggling,” he said, practically laughing himself. “We have to be serious about this. This is a real serious moment between us.”
“I can’t help it! I’m a giggler.”
“First rule of business,” he said, “if you want people to take you seriously, you can’t giggle.”
I sucked in my cheeks, making probably the silliest expression I’d ever made. Weston tamped down his smile as well, though not all the way. I kind of wondered if that half-smile was permanently on his lips, wondered if he even noticed it. It was fitting for the occasion, the tiny upturn of his lips as he opened the black velvet box and pulled out the gorgeous platinum ring with tiny diamonds surrounding a large one that had to be at least four carats.
I could almost believe he meant this. Could almost believe he was enjoying it.
“Give me your hand,” he said, taking it before I’d actually given it to him. Goosebumps sprouted up my arm at his touch, or maybe just because I was so thrilled that this was finally happening, I was that much closer to my dream.
Yeah, definitely that.
He slipped the ring over my knuckle to put it into place. It fit perfectly, which made me certain that Donovan had had a hand in it.
“Elizabeth Dyson, will you do me the honor,” he said in a very warm tone, as he dropped to a knee, “of becoming my bride.”
Part of me wondered if he should’ve added the word fake in there, because that’s what this was. It was fake; it wasn’t real. Even though this moment was beginning to feel very, very real.
But on the other hand, it would be a real wedding. We would have real marriage certificates. It would really be on file in the state of New York, and when we got divorced, that would really be on our record, too. We would have to file taxes together.
There wasn’t really anything fake about this fake wedding at all.
So maybe how he’d asked was appropriate indeed. And there was only one appropriate answer for him.
“Yes, Weston King, I will.”
Chapter Five
Elizabeth craned her neck to look past me out the car window.
“This is where you like to hang out?” she asked when she saw where the car had stopped. “There’s a line a mile long.”
It had been two days since we’d decided to get engaged, and we were putting the scheme into action. She’d taken the ring off her finger for now, figuring it best to wait to announce the engagement until after we’d had a few public sightings. This would be our first, but so far, she’d complained from the minute she’d picked me up, and if she kept it up, I was going to have to…
Well, I wasn’t sure what I was going to have to do, but I knew what I wanted to do. Especially with her wearing that black and white striped sundress with the kind of skirt that bounced up just the way I liked—it was simple and elegant and not at all what most women her age would wear on a date that involved a nightclub, but somehow, with those strappy high designer fuck-me shoes, she pulled it off.
Problem was, it also made me want to do just that—strap her high on my waist and fuck her.
But I wanted to do that with most girls I spent any time with. Elizabeth Dyson might be my favorite brand of sexy, but she wasn’t special. I could fuck her once or twice, but eventually I’d get bored with her, like I always did, and then I’d still be stuck with her through our arrangement. It would feel like a real relationship, and I had zero interest in that.
Besides, I was about ninety-nine point nine percent sure that Elizabeth was not the type to fuck around for fun.
That point one percent of doubt was what my cock kept twitchin
g about.
“The line wouldn’t have formed yet if we had come straight here instead of going to dinner first,” I said, with an edge of complaint of my own. “I never take my dates to dinner.”
“That’s exactly why we had to go. I’m not supposed to be like all your other girls. I’m the woman you’re going to choose to marry.” It wasn’t the first time she’d explained this tonight, and it showed in her tone.
“Right, right.” Except if I ever did get married, I was still sure I’d never let the woman drag me to the French froufrou place Elizabeth had insisted on going.
Thank God that part of the night was behind us. Now we were on to the fun. Since she’d said that we would need to be seen out on the town, and since she didn’t have any regular haunts, I’d recommended the place I frequented.
That meant The Sky Launch.
“Anyway, don’t worry,” I assured her as I pulled her out of the backseat, feeling oddly comforted by the contact of her hand. “The line isn’t for us.”
It was a Friday night so the club was busy, even though it wasn’t yet ten o’clock. I was known here, so I pulled her to the front desk where the bouncer let us in with a nod. We were halfway up the entrance ramp when Gwen, one of the managers, approached and gave me a hug.
I felt Elizabeth stiffen at my side, and so, simply to rile her up more, I kissed Gwen on the cheek, something I didn’t normally do because she was happily married with children.
Sometimes I’m a dick just because it’s fun.
“It’s been a few weeks since you’ve been here,” Gwen said, prying.
“I’ve been...preoccupied,” I said, making it sound like the things that had kept me busy had been sexy things.
They hadn’t been. Not recently. The office really had grown too big to manage with just Nate and me. But it wasn’t cool to admit to being a workaholic. Plus, I liked the way it made Elizabeth silently fret.
As though prompted by my thoughts, the woman at my side cleared her throat.
“Gwen, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Elizabeth Dyson.”
Gwen’s brow arched in surprise. “Did you say...girlfriend?”
I had almost tripped over the word myself. I wasn’t sure I’d ever actually used the word in reference to anyone connected to me in the whole time I’d been alive.
“I did. I did say girlfriend.” I was saying it again, just to get used to the sound. Girlfriend. It wasn’t that terrifying, really. Girl. Friend. Nothing to it.
“This must be serious then.” Gwen turned to Elizabeth and shook her hand, then held it with both of hers. “I’ve known Weston for quite some time now, and he’s yet to have introduced me to anyone as his girlfriend. It’s a real pleasure to meet you.”
Elizabeth’s eyes wandered over to the wedding ring on Gwen’s finger and I saw her expression relax just a bit.
There went that fun.
“It’s been a whirlwind of a romance,” Elizabeth said, and I had to look down at my shoes so that no one saw how utterly disgusted I was with her phrasing. Whirlwind of a romance didn’t sound convincing; it sounded like a bad Hallmark movie.
I needed to remember to tell her that later.
“I’m delighted to finally meet some of Weston’s...friends?” Elizabeth said friends with a bit of a question in her tone, as though she wasn’t sure how to refer to Gwen.
“Gwen is one of the managers here at The Sky Launch,” I said, taking pity on my girlfriend—the more I thought the word, the easier it came out. “She knows how to take care of us. Is my regular spot available?”
“Of course,” Gwen assured me. “I had a bubble room saved the minute you called and said you were coming. Right this way.”
We followed Gwen across the dance floor and up the stairs to the second floor of the nightclub, and though I held Elizabeth’s hand in mine as we walked across the dance floor, I made sure to keep my eyes on Gwen’s behind.
I was a player; it was to be expected, and I liked the way it made Elizabeth bristle and fume. Plus, it was important she knew early on that although she was marrying me, my eyes could still wander.
It was a fake marriage. I still got to look.
In fact, I still got to fool around—discreetly, of course.
On the second floor, Gwen handed us off to the waitress who showed us to our bubble room, one of several that overlooked the dance floor below. These rooms were the highlight of The Sky Launch, the reason that I loved this club so much. The tables were enclosed in a private setting, but the wall around them was glass so that you could see out and everyone could see in.
It combined the perks of VIP with all the exhibitionism I could want.
“This is interesting,” Elizabeth said with what sounded like disdain in her tone, once she was seated at the table and the waitress had left.
I unbuttoned my sports jacket and threw her a glare. I couldn’t imagine the places that she hung out.
Actually, I could. Boring places. Coffee places. Places that only served wine. Places that required you to wear a tux.
Places I sincerely hoped I wouldn’t be forced to frequent as part of this charade.
“If you hate it so much, make sure we’re seen here tonight, and we don’t have to come back again.” I picked up my drink menu even though I knew what I was going to get, just so I didn’t have to look at her for a minute. Looking at her confused me too much.
It was hard to correlate that rockin’ body with the things that came out of her mouth.
“I didn’t say that it was terrible. I said it was interesting. I haven’t been here long enough to find out if it’s terrible.” She looked out at the dance floor beneath us, gazing at the sea of sweaty bodies pulsing to the steady beat. “I like that you can have a conversation in here. While the music’s going. That’s nice.”
The hint couldn’t have been stronger. I set my menu down and gave her my attention. “Let me guess, you have something you want to talk about.”
“There is something I think that we should go over. I hadn’t thought that we needed to talk about it as soon as tonight, but I realize now that we do.” She was talking fast and not looking at me, and I could sense she was maybe nervous, which intrigued me to no end.
“Go on.”
“You do know you can’t see other women while we’re engaged, right?” She looked up at me now and met my eyes. Her irises were startlingly blue, almost as startlingly blue as my balls were going to be from what she just said.
Except that she was wrong.
So I corrected her. “You mean no one can find out that I’m sleeping with anyone.” She couldn’t actually be suggesting I wouldn’t sleep with anybody. For seven months? I couldn’t remember the last time I went seven days. It wasn’t going to happen.
She sighed, a great big heavy sigh that brought her whole upper body to rest on the table between us, drawing my eyes to the way her breasts peeked over the neckline of her dress. “No, Weston. I mean, you can’t sleep with anyone. Even discreetly. It’s too big of a risk.”
I laughed. Then I started scanning the ceiling for hidden cameras. “Is there a film crew in here somewhere? Because there’s no way you’re serious.”
“I knew this wasn’t going to work. You can’t keep it in your pants for even a minute, can you?” She picked up her phone and started to text somebody. “There’s just too much on the line for me here. Donovan should’ve been the one to volunteer; he would have been able to go seven months.”
“Are you texting Donovan?” I wasn’t sure if it bothered me more that she was texting Donovan while she was on a date with me, or that she’d suggested Donovan had the strength to do anything longer than I did.
Either way, I was bothered. A lot.
“Stop,” I said. “Don’t text him. There’s no need. I just didn’t know. We hadn’t discussed it yet. That’s all.” I ran a hand down my thigh back and forth, back and forth. Fuck, was I really, actually, agreeing to discuss this?
“I already texted him
,” she said smugly, setting the phone down. “It’s too late.”
I rolled my eyes. “We don’t need his input. Let’s discuss this, just you and me.”
“It’s just you and me right now. Go for it.” Her tone wasn’t angry or unreasonable. She was simply meeting the obstacle head-on.
Which was admirable.
I owed it to her to be admirable as well.
I stretched my neck, trying to get rid of the kink that had suddenly shown up, and thought quickly. “You know,” I said, leaning forward. “A lot of guys get married, and it doesn’t mean they stop fooling around.”
God, that sounded terrible. I didn’t know if I’d ever get married for real, but if I did, I didn’t want to be the kind of guy who fooled around on his woman.
But I wasn’t getting married for real. So it was okay to play an asshole in this marriage. Hell, maybe it could even give us fuel for our divorce.
I was about to suggest that, but she spoke before I could.
“I’m sure that’s acceptable among some people.” She sneered as she emphasized ‘some people.’ I didn’t know who some people were, but if some people were the kind that fooled around on their fiancées she’d had every right to sneer. “But I can’t be engaged to that. I wouldn’t tolerate it. Weston King would bring his girlfriend to this club, so we’re here. Elizabeth Dyson wouldn’t stand for a fiancé fucking around behind her back—”
“This wouldn’t exactly be behind your back.” Maybe it wasn’t the right time for a joke.
“And she definitely wouldn’t stand for it in front of her face.”
I wracked my brain trying to figure out where all of this was coming from. Certainly the evening hadn’t gone that badly. Had it? “Is this about the hostess at the restaurant?”
“I came out of the bathroom, and she was at our table giving you her phone number.” She’d lowered her voice as if even letting me know that a girl had been flirting with me might be telling too many people.
I knew it!
I took a breath so I wouldn’t get too eager in my explanation. “First of all, she was not giving me her number.” I’d known Lexie from somewhere or other and she’d come over to show me pics of her new clit piercing. Elizabeth must have seen me take Lexie’s cell phone and assumed we were exchanging numbers.
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