10
Perfect Illusions (Ward)
I sip from the double shot espresso on my desk.
Dark, bitter, and scalding hot, just the way I like it. I didn’t expect to find coffee on my desk this morning after the way my asshole mouth ran her off.
It makes me regret turning my fire on the wrong person even more.
The person I should’ve massacred walks through the door.
“Do you ever work?” I bite off.
Nick shuts the door behind him and levels a stare. “Find a fake fiancée.”
“This crap again? Excuse me if I fail to see how another broken engagement helps me seem less like a walking dipshit.”
“Ward, Maria didn’t break up with you for reasons that had anything to do with you, and you know it. It was a family matter.”
Even if he’s right, this conversation is officially stupid.
“Her reasoning had everything to do with me. Our parents are a fucking death wish. She’s practically royalty. How could you blame her for ditching out after the Parnell incident and Dad’s tirade?” The words come out strangled.
Nick’s face hardens. “We had nothing to do with that. We were kids for God’s sake.”
“Whatever. I know, you know, and Grandma knows. But it’s the kind of thing that follows you for life. I can’t blame her for not wanting to tarnish her whole family for my sake, even if it busted me up at the time.”
My pulse slows, an anger and despair I pretend I’m over steaming my blood.
“If she loved you, she would have stuck it out,” Nick says firmly. I hate it like hell when he tries to be nice. “But I’ve never understood why her broken promise makes you a womanizing bachelor anyhow.”
“Her parents weren’t monsters. That’s the difference between being a Duchessny versus a Brandt.” I shrug. “Besides, I didn’t handle the break up well. I almost assaulted that kid from the tabloid when he got in my face yipping questions. That’s probably where the ‘womanizing’ comes from. Osprey’s revenge for shitting on one of his people.”
“He’s a hundred-foot dick. And I don’t mean that as a compliment,” Nick laughs.
“Doesn’t matter. You need to drop the fake fiancée plan and come back to earth. Paige hasn’t been this pissed at me in weeks.” I pinch my jaw, wondering if my progress toward having a normal EA was an illusion or not before my brother’s idiocy intervened.
“I think she was more upset about your reaction to enlisting her. But it doesn’t have to be Paige. I just said Paige, because she’s beautiful, crazy smart, and you guys clearly have a—”
“She’s our assistant!” I roar. “End of story.”
“Nah, you left out some details. We can trust her, she’s available, and it’s believable with you. Roland Birdshit and his teacup boys would probably eat it right up. People have seen you together before.”
“Yeah, at work. Once the fake engagement ends, I’d look even worse. A man who seduces his assistant, then leaves her before the wedding?” I snort, slashing my hand through the air. “Ridiculous.”
Nick leans over to peer through my frosted glass door, drumming his fingers against his thigh.
He glances back at me. “Obviously, it’s your choice, bro. She’s just too perfect to pass up, the kind of chick you should be dating. If you ever dated, I mean.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. Ass.”
“It’s not anything against you. It’s just—”
“Don’t you have work to do, Nicholas? Don’t you ever?” If I have to hear him describe Paige in all her wonderful perfection one more time, I might just pick him up and chuck him out of my office.
“Ward, no one’s going to have work for long if we don’t figure this out. If Paige repulses you so much, find a sugar baby or something. There’s a price for everything, and always somebody willing to pay it.”
Damn him, I never said Paige was repulsive.
Quite the opposite, and it’s a mammoth goddamned problem.
“A woman that hard up for money won’t play well. And what do you mean no one will have work without this deal?” I growl. “We did big dollars in projects without a Winthrope centerpiece last year. No reason we can’t do it again this year.”
“I hope,” he says quietly, his eyes darkening. “When word gets out that Grandma retired in the middle of a project and it made Ross Winthrope choose another firm over us...what do you think happens next? That’s not losing out on a little success. That’s a hit.”
Fuck. I don’t have a counterargument.
“Most people probably won’t even connect the dots,” I say weakly.
“Maybe. But if I were looking to build a multimillion-dollar property, I’d make it my business to know the ins and outs of every firm, right?”
Dammit, Nick, why are you making sense today?
Success breeds success. Momentum is king. Unfortunately, the opposite is also true.
I slump in my chair, pulling angrily at my tie.