“There’s really no other way you can access the trust fund?”
“If there was, I wouldn’t be here now.” He paused. “I’m not asking you to make a lifelong commitment to me. The marriage won’t be real. On paper, you’ll be my wife for a year—that’s it. Just say yes, Vienna. Help me like I helped you.”
I groaned, knowing I had only myself to blame for this. I’d essentially made a deal with the devil. That kind of thing tended to come back and bite you on the ass. Hard. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
There was a glitter of satisfaction in his eyes. “Good.” He took another sip of his coffee, casual as you please. Like we weren’t discussing getting fucking married.
“So, what now? Do we elope?”
“Not out of the blue. That would scream ‘fake.’ We need to lay the groundwork first.”
“Groundwork?”
“Yes.” He sank back into his chair. “I didn’t take a plus-one to any of the corporate events I attended in the last two months. It wasn’t unnoticed. People asked if I was dating someone. I said no. But many of them are so sure I’m hiding something that you and I won’t need to look cozy when we go on any dates; they’ll read all sorts into what they see.”
“So you’d already put your plan into motion before approaching me with your proposal. Why did you wait two months to ask me?” He hadn’t originally asked someone else, had he? Had I been second choice? And what did it even matter?
“I needed to tend to some things first and ensure all my ducks were in a row,” he replied. “If you have plans for Saturday evening, cancel them. That will be our first date.”
My stomach flipped. “Will there need to be a lot of PDA? Public displays of affection?”
“I know what PDA stands for. And no, there won’t need to be much of it. I don’t want to shove our apparent relationship in people’s faces—it wouldn’t look realistic. I’m a private man. I want it to look as though we’re trying to keep the relationship low-key for now.”
Clever. “I take it that means we’ll continue as we are at work.”
“Yes. Don’t mention our ‘relationship’ to anyone. Word will eventually get around o-Verve that we seem to be dating. People will ask you questions. Be vague and evasive.”
“Don’t confirm it but don’t deny it?”
“Exactly.”
“What about the, um, engagement? When will that become official?”
“July, while we’re on a business trip in Vegas. We’ll also marry while there, as if we saw no reason to wait. It’ll be fast, yes, but I’m known for moving fast when going after what I want.”
Six weeks. I had six weeks until I’d be walking down the aisle. My belly did a slow roll. There was an audible click when I swallowed. “Okay.”
“And you’ll need to move in with me once we’re married.”
“What about my apartment? I know it’s nothing special, but it’s mine.”
“It would look odd if we didn’t live together, Vienna. I’ll buy you another apartment after this is over. No, don’t argue, I won’t see you homeless. Especially when you’ll be giving me a year of your life. It’s only fair that I ensure you have a home to go to when you leave mine. Think of it as the divorce settlement or compensation for losses incurred, whatever. We’ll talk about it more when the time for the divorce approaches. For now, we’ll concentrate on the upcoming dates and engagement.”
I frowned as a thought crossed my mind. “You’re not going to propose in public, are you?”
A smile briefly lit his eyes. “We’ll see.”
Chapter Three
Pulling my black, skin-tight, off-the-shoulder dress out of my closet, I bit my lip. It was sexy yet elegant, even with the thigh slit, and I loved it. But I’d never worn anything like this before in front of Dane, my boss. It would feel weird.
My gaze flicked to the more formal dress further along the closet rail, but then I remembered what Dane had said to me yesterday before I left o-Verve …
Don’t dress as my PA. Wear what you’d wear to go on a date, not what you’d wear to go to a business dinner.
I looked back at the black dress I was holding and gave it a firm nod. Yes, this would do. I’d throw on a light layer of makeup, add some jewelry, maybe curl the ends of my hair and leave it down. First, I needed to shower.
Blowing out a breath, I put a hand to my fluttering stomach. First dates were always nerve-wracking. But this wasn’t a real date, so I technically had no need to feel nervous. There was no pressure to impress, no worry that this might end up being a waste of my time, no need to stress over whether or not my date would like how I looked. Plus, this wasn’t a stranger. I knew him fairly well.