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My gut clenches.
Something about the way he saysstar propertiesmakes me uneasy. It’s gone straight from tempting to too good to be true.
Also, there’s something horribly distracting about his flickering blue eyes tonight. I kind of miss the scowl and constant growling.
At least then I could forget how attractive he is when he’s beingnice.
“I’ll admit it sounds interesting,” I say slowly, pulling at my cupcake and leaving crumbs on my plate. Bad habit, but I can’t help my nerves, especially when it feels like this is playing with a house of cards and one wrong move will send everything crashing down.
“But?” he urges.
“But why the sudden interest?”
His face closes off again, the warmth retreating behind a stoic mask.
“And, um, what do you want in return? I know how these things work. There has to be a catch in there somewhere.” There’s no sense in pulling any punches.
“Well.” He clears his throat. “There is something else.”
Of course.
“I knew it.”
He inhales slowly, glancing around like he’s trying to keep his lungs working.
Fair enough. I’m having trouble breathing, too.
Because here it comes.
The whole reason why you don’t make deals with atrociously hot men who tip like they should be institutionalized.
And judging by his face, it’s a really flipping big reason.
I take another gulp of my cooling coffee. I reckon I’ll need the caffeine hit to get me through this. Or maybe I should just give up and fetch the whiskey stashed away in the back right now that I only break out for real emergencies.
“Before I start, let me promise you this is only temporary.” He places both hands on the table, palms down. “It’s a very stupid condition and it’s entirely my fault. The man who was with me the other day, he’s very difficult to win over. When I did, I gave him the wrong impression and it made things a tad complicated for our arrangement going forward.”
That’s all it takes to send my heart climbing up my throat.
“You’re scaring me, Mr. Rory,” I say.
I definitely mean it as he sighs and slowly fixes his gaze on me again.
“I just need you to act like we’re engaged.”
I squint at him, wondering if I heard that right.
But he doesn’t correct himself.
What. The. Actual. Hell?
I push back from the table like he’s brandishing a knife.
See, I knew it.
This dude isn’t just your run-of-the-mill rich, handsome jerk—he’s psycho.
He isactuallyinsane, and if this is some kind of convoluted ploy to ask me out or take advantage of me—or… or—
