by Sara Desai
Brad was at least twenty years older than most of the marketing team, and the only person in the room wearing a suit and tie. His dark hair was thinning on top, and his salt-and-pepper sideburns needed a trim.
“Zoe and I recommended a rebrand,” Mia whispered as Brad connected his laptop to the projector. “We wanted to move away from the peach packaging to something more edgy.”
“Peach.” Josh chuckled. “There’s some subliminal advertising right there.”
Mia groaned. “Do you think about anything other than sex?”
“I like peaches.” Josh smiled. “I also like bananas. Does that make me a bad person?”
“Shh. He’s going to start.”
Brad held up a box of Rapture tampons and the chatter in the room died down. “You have great products here. These pads have the best adhesion and longevity in the market . . .”
“We’re off to a bad start if he doesn’t know the difference between tampons and pads,” Mia murmured. “I definitely don’t want tampons with maximum adhesion.”
Brad clicked to a picture of Organicare’s products on a store shelf. “To gain traction from the younger end of the market we need to bring your packaging into the new millennium. The question is . . .” Brad raised his voice. “What do women want at that time of the month?” He clapped his hands together. “We have the answer.”
“Oh yes, please,” Daisy muttered. “Mansplain to us what we want at that time of the month.”
“We’ve done some preliminary market research,” Brad said. “Women want to feel excited about pulling out a box of menstrual products each month, something to distract them from the unpleasant side effects.” He clicked to a slide of a woman standing on a beach with a huge smile on her face and a box of pads in her hand.
Unpleasant side effects. Daisy choked back a snort.
“This is our vision.” Brad’s next slide featured a woman with long blond hair, dressed only in a piece of pink chiffon, straddling an unsaddled white horse with a pink horn attached to its head. Ribbons fluttering from its mane, the horse galloped through a field of flowers toward a rainbow in a purple sky.
Is he serious? Mia mouthed.
Brad cleared his throat. “What we’ve come up with is an image, a feeling. It encapsulates the pleasure of having a product that makes a woman feel confident and secure. We’ll take a ten-minute break so you can have a good look at the handouts, and then we’ll move on to the new logos and website redesign.”
“I wouldn’t feel secure dressed in a shredded tissue and riding bareback on a horse that’s about to jump over a cliff,” Mia said as Brad handed out the design packages. “And is she on her period or in heaven? I think he’s confused that they’re the same thing.”
“It’s a unicorn.” Zoe snorted a laugh. “Or did you think that long thick cylinder on his head was something else? Maybe it’s subliminal advertising.”
“This is ridiculous.” Mia slumped in her chair. “What about the women of color? Or plus-size women? And what about teenagers and young women? Market research shows they don’t buy in to the idea of menstruation as taboo. They talk about it. They own it. They aren’t ashamed. They need real facts and real products.”
“You need to say something,” Daisy urged Mia. “You and Zoe are going to be a big part of the redesign and no one knows the products and the market like you.”
Mia shook her head. “We can’t afford to rock the boat. Tyler wasn’t interested in our ideas before; he certainly won’t be interested now. He’s still talking about making staff cuts. I don’t want to give him an excuse to let me go.”
Daisy glanced up at Brad and Tyler, busy distributing the handouts. What was Liam thinking sending in this guy? Organicare was supposed to be a forward-thinking company that would make a difference in women’s lives.
“I could talk to Liam,” she offered.
“Yes!” Mia’s face brightened. “I forgot you knew him. Definitely talk to him. See what he can do.”
Tyler offered them each a design package featuring additional pictures of nymphlike women and their unicorns. “I haven’t had a chance to say congratulations on your engagement,” he said to Daisy. “You and Liam . . .”
Oh my God. Daisy froze, her heart pounding so hard she thought she’d break a rib. She’d forgotten Liam was going to tell Tyler about their engagement.
“Wait. What?” Josh scowled. “You’re engaged to Liam Murphy and you didn’t tell me? You said he used to be your brother’s best friend. You said you weren’t close.”
Daisy’s pulse kicked up a notch. She wasn’t good on the fly. “We were . . .”
“On a break?” Mia offered.
Daisy shot her a grateful look. “Yes. On a break. A long break. Very long. Years. And then we bumped into each other and it just happened.”
“I can’t thank you enough,” Tyler said. “You saved us. I was at the end of my rope. Total despair.”
“I didn’t really do anything . . .”
“No need to be shy. Liam told me everything. How you begged him to step in, cooked him his favorite dinner so he would listen to the pitch . . .” He pressed a fist to his lips, overcome with emotion. “That story about spilling the wine was classic. Classic!” He patted her shoulder. “We’ll talk later. I have to finish handing these out so Brad can get on with the presentation.”
Zoe gave her a hug after Tyler had walked away. “Congratulations!”
“You’re engaged!” Mia clapped her hands together. “I’m so happy for you, I could cry.”
“You cry at everything,” Josh said dryly. “An extra pickle at lunch? Here come the waterworks. Baby shower? River of tears. Someone comes back from vacation? Hysteria. I can’t imagine what you’d be like if you watched My Little Pony. That scene where Tempest sacrifices herself . . .”
“Don’t.” Mia held up her hand. “I can’t even think about it.”
“I still don’t understand this.” Josh turned his attention back to Daisy. “Last month you hooked up with a fireman and the weekend before that was the car salesman from Freemont. And now, you’re getting married? To Liam? Has he seen the collection of Marvel Funko Pops on your desk? Does he even know what the Marvel Universe is?”
Sweat trickled down her back and her throat constricted. She thought she’d assessed all the angles of their fake engagement, but she hadn’t even considered her colleagues finding out. “It all just happened so fast. When you know, you know.”
“Want to know what I know?” Josh’s voice wavered. “A person who schedules everything down to the minute, and is totally allergic to commitment of any kind, does not get married on a whim. It doesn’t make sense.”
“It’s love,” Zoe said gently. “Of course it doesn’t make sense.”
Josh shook his head. “Something doesn’t add up.”
He was right. Her behavior was inconsistent, and if Josh could see it, her family would see it, too. She needed to think through her plan again. Clearly there was something she’d missed, and the fewer people she had to lie to the better.
“It’s not real,” she murmured.
“What do you mean, ‘it’s not real’?” Josh’s frown deepened.
“He needs a wife to get an inheritance. I need to get my matchmaking aunties off my back. We made a deal, and part of it was that he would try and help Organicare. It’s only for a year, and then we’ll be done.”
Josh’s expression blanched. “Are you serious? You’re going to tie yourself to this guy for a year? The one who broke your heart?”
“She’s doing it for us,” Mia said. “To save the company. Why are you giving her a hard time? She’s the best!”
“You said what he did was unforgivable,” Josh retorted. “And yet here you are forgiving him.”
“It’s so romantic.” Zoe clasped her hands together. “I love it.”
&nb
sp; “I didn’t forgive him,” Daisy rubbed the back of her neck. “We both benefit from this arrangement. That’s all there is to it.”
And that’s all it would ever be. He hadn’t wanted her before and he didn’t want her now—not the way she’d always imagined. No one wanted someone “weirdly smart” who preferred action figures to dolls, and math puzzles to fairy tales. Her mother had come back after a twelve-year absence to tell her so.
A disturbance at the door caught her attention. Rochelle had just brought Liam into the meeting and was eating him up with her eyes as he shook hands with Brad and Tyler.
Why was it so unbelievable that he would want to marry her? Why did she still hear her mother’s voice in her head?
Fake or not, he was her fiancé, and in this game of pretend, a man like him loved a girl like her, and it wasn’t okay for Rochelle to be slithering over to steal her man.
Gritting her teeth, she joined him near the door. “Hi . . . ah . . .” What did she call him? Honey? Babe? Darling? “. . . Humraaz.” The Urdu term of endearment came out before she could stop it.
Liam’s gaze shifted to her, and his face softened. Before he could ask her what it meant and ruin the performance, she rose up on her toes, pressed her hands against his chest, and kissed him.
Without hesitation, Liam wrapped one arm around her waist, pressed his mouth against hers, and bent her over backward in a full-on movie kiss.
Her breath hitched and her lips softened. His lips were firm and cool and tasted of coffee and something sweet. He slipped his tongue into her mouth and for a moment she thought her heart had stopped. But it didn’t matter. Upside down, in front of her work colleagues, she was the woman she always wanted to be.
Then she was up and back on her feet, lips tingling, an ache of desire between her thighs.
“What does it mean?” he murmured gently.
“The one with whom we share our secrets.”
“Then I am your humraaz,” he said. “And you are mine.”
• 14 •
Friday, 11:06 P.M.
DAISY: Confirming Date #3. Saturday 6 p.m. Liam’s grandfather’s house, Richmond. Objective: Meet Liam’s family.
LIAM: Why are you home at 11 p.m. on a Friday night?
DAISY: Why are you assuming I’m home? Maybe I’m out having sex with a hot MMA fighter.
LIAM: Who the hell is this guy? Did you tell him you’re engaged?
DAISY: I thought that might scare him away.
Friday, 11:20 P.M.
LIAM: Is he still there?
DAISY: Who?
LIAM: The MMA fighter who’s having sex with my fiancée.
DAISY: There was no MMA fighter. Max and I are watching Fight Club on Netflix.
LIAM: Will I get to meet Max?
DAISY: Yes. If Max doesn’t like you, it’s all over.
LIAM: I’ll bring treats.
DAISY: He can’t be bribed.
LIAM: Everyone has a weakness.
DAISY: What’s yours?
LIAM: You.
Friday, 11:30 P.M.
LIAM: You forgot to call me humraaz.
DAISY: I just said it for show. No one is around to hear it now.
LIAM: Say it anyway.
DAISY: Good night, humraaz.
* * *
• • •
“YOU haven’t touched your drink.”
Liam looked up from his phone, momentarily disoriented. He’d come to the Rose & Thorn after work with James and their three new staff hires for a little get-to-know-each-other drink, but now he was sitting at the end of the bar alone.
“Your drink.” Rainey pointed to the pint of Guinness in front of him. “You wasted a good head and it’s getting warm.”
Liam looked around and spotted James and their new employees on the dance floor, swinging each other around as the live band played a fifties jive.
“Who were you texting? Never seen you so focused.” She cleared away the empty glasses from the counter beside him.
“The woman I told you about. Daisy.”
Rainey froze. “Not the one you stood up for prom?”
On instinct, Liam threw up a hand in case Rainey decided to slap him again. “She agreed to be my fake fiancée.”
“Did she hit her head or something? Does her father need medical treatment and you agreed to pay the bills? Was the bank about to foreclose on the house that’s been in her family for generations and you talked to the bank manager who’s a friend of yours? Or did you just pay her a shitload of money?”
Liam half rose from his seat, Daisy’s own words on his lips. “She’s not a hooker, Rainey.”
“Well, you must have offered her something pretty amazing because last time you were here, you said she hated you, and now she’s agreed to be your wife.”
He settled back down, still wary of a sudden attack. “She gets her matchmaking relatives off her back, and I help her company get back on its feet. It’s purely a business arrangement.”
“Are you sure about that?” Rainey gestured to his phone. “You’ve been smiling at your phone for the last half hour. Your team hit the dance floor and you didn’t even know they’d gone. Maybe you’ve fallen for your fake fiancée.”
Liam took a breath to speak, then released it. Considered a dozen different explanations for why he’d been more focused on texting Daisy than getting to know his staff, then rejected them. “I’m sure.” He took a sip of the rich, thick Guinness, letting the malty sweetness and hoppy bitterness slide over his tongue. Usually he drank his Guinness as a whiskey chaser, but James had ordered the first round before he arrived. “We’re meeting my family tomorrow and she was just confirming the details.”
Nothing had changed in the last ten years. Daisy was still Sanjay’s little sister. She was still smart, beautiful, and funny, and her ability to bring order to chaos still made him feel like his world wasn’t spinning out of control. She’d taken his half-baked idea to save the distillery and made it real. She got his jokes, and nothing made him feel as good as when she smiled. He just hoped that the man who would one day win her heart would be both worthy and appreciative of what he had.
“How was the Death Race over the weekend?” he asked into the silence of her stare.
“You’re changing the subject, but I’ll tell you anyway.” She held up her arm and pointed to a fresh, white bandage. “I finished it in record time. Got my tattoo from the Bobby Tam. He doesn’t just do ink, he creates masterpieces. I’m keeping it hidden until it’s perfectly healed. I can hardly wait to show it off.”
“I look forward to the big reveal.”
Rainey poured two shots of whiskey and pushed one toward him. “How does she feel about you?”
Of course Rainey wouldn’t let it go. Once her curiosity was piqued, she’d keep at him until he told her the truth—if he even knew what that was. “I don’t know.”
Two weeks ago, he would have had a different answer. But two fake dates later, he wasn’t so sure. They’d laughed together, swapped stories about the past, and teased each other like they’d done before. And that kiss. So unexpected . . . so sweet . . . and so damn hot. He’d felt passion in her kiss, awakening a longing inside him that had never truly died. And from the flush in her cheeks when he’d finally let her go, he knew she’d felt it, too.
“Well, she obviously doesn’t hate you, or she wouldn’t have agreed to your crazy plan.” Rainey sipped from her glass and licked her lips. “And you very clearly don’t hate her. The question is: Are you doing this to appease your conscience, to save the distillery, or to get the girl?”
Liam tipped his head back and groaned. “It doesn’t matter. Even if I wanted something more than a fake relationship, at some point she’ll want an explanation for what happened between us in the past, and it will all be over
. I made a promise to keep a secret, and the truth would tear her family apart.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Rainey pulled down a bottle of Glenmorangie. “Families are stronger than you think.”
“How would you know?”
She unscrewed the bottle. “I’ve seen it on TV.”
* * *
• • •
“YOU’RE spoiling him.” Daisy shook her head when she saw a plump pakora in Max’s bowl. “What am I going to do when Max has to go back to Doggie Daycare in the fall? He’ll turn his nose up at normal dog food.”
“Spoiling pets and nieces and nephews is an auntie’s job.” Mehar Auntie handed Daisy a plate of Indian sweets. She had finished the choreography for one of Layla’s wedding dances, and Daisy had offered to help them rehearse before her date with Liam.
“Try these.” Mehar Auntie plucked a jalebi from the plate. “I’ve been in the kitchen all afternoon. I thought I’d bring some treats to our dance class.” Short and round, and blessed with an amazing sense of rhythm, Mehar was the family dance queen, hogging every sangeet pre-wedding party with her well-rehearsed dance moves. She and Daisy taught Bollywood dancing together at the local recreation center, both as a fun cardio workout and a way to connect to the Indian culture.
“I’m meeting Liam’s family tonight.” Daisy nibbled the jalebi. Fragrant with rose water and spices and dripping with heavy, sweet syrup, the spiral-shaped orange treats were her favorite Indian dessert. “Can I bring some to share?”
Mehar Auntie sniffed her displeasure. “The boy should meet the girl’s family first.”
“I couldn’t have a family gathering without Dad.”
“I’m with you two times a week,” she huffed. “You didn’t say anything about him.” Mehar Auntie turned away. “I thought I was the favorite auntie, but you let Salena meet him first.”
Daisy put down the plate and her treat to give her aunt a hug. “Don’t be like that, Auntie-ji. Of course you’re my favorite. Meeting Salena Auntie was an accident. If I hadn’t bumped into her, I would have told you first.”