Page 14 of The Beat Match

An absolute treasure, this one. “And you think my father’s all hearts and rainbows? You think you’re the only person whose life isn’t perfect?” If she’d walked a day in Annie’s shoes growing up, she’d be shaking in a corner.

Rosanna rolled her eyes. “What I’m saying is I’m my own person. I like my alcohol hard, my men dangerous, and my parties loud. Monogamy isn’t my game plan, and neither is dating a trust-fund boy who’s sucking up to my father.”

“So why’d you agree to this date?”

Her narrow shoulders sagged slightly, her gaze flitting as though people might listen in. Not a stretch. Rosanna was beautiful and notorious. He hadn’t realized how in-the-news she was until he’d googled her. Her pictures were splashed on tabloids and gossip blogs. Tonight, the second she’d walked into the restaurant, people had pointed and whispered. It could be her dark hair flowing enticingly around her shoulders, the deep-V plunging down the front and back of her pink mini-dress. With what he’d researched, odds were these gawkers were after juicy gossip.

“I owe my father money for an…incident,” she said. “But I’m thinking I’d rather be in debt than do this.” She gestured vaguely between them.

Her open distaste for him wasn’t subtle, but parental blackmail was something concrete he could handle. “How much do you owe him?”

She leaned into her chair and re-crossed her legs, her phone momentarily forgotten. “One hundred million dollars,” she said smugly. Like she was proud of the astronomical amount, no hint of joking on her face.

Weston tried not to cough up his sip of wine. “What the hell did you do?”

“I threw a party on his yacht, which is now at the bottom of the Atlantic.”

“You sank his yacht?” She was more off the rails than he’d thought.

She shrugged. “It was an epic party.”

Weston looked at this unapologetic woman, who kind of hated him and didn’t give a damn about consequences, and he laughed. Under his breath at first, then harder, covering his face with his hand as he shook. The only person who made him laugh like this was Annie when she danced around her chaotic apartment singing into her hair brush, trying to loosen him up.

This was a different kind of laughter—defeated, tired.

By the time he recovered, Rosanna had her elbows on the white tablecloth, her lips quirked into a half-smile. Her phone was face-down on the table. “I guess you won’t be offering to pay my debt.”

He scrubbed his hand over his mouth as their waiter returned with their coffees. Paying off that monstrous screw-up was a hard no, and nothing about Rosanna would be easy. But she was in a pickle, as was he.

“Why haven’t I read about the incident?” Weston asked.

She traced the lip of her mug. “No one was hurt, and my father called in some favors. Then he called you.”

“Actually, he didn’t call me. He called my father. It seems we’re both pawns in their game.” It was Weston’s game as much as his father’s, but the softening of Rosanna’s mouth meant he’d said the right thing. “Can I make a suggestion?”

She blew on her coffee, took a sip, then licked her lips. “Depends on the suggestion.”

“How much do you know about your father’s business plans?”

“I know he wants to retire in the next few years and has a tentative merger set with your company.”

“That he does, and everything was going full-steam ahead, until you, apparently, sank his yacht.” He held up a hand as Rosanna shot him a scathing look. “Problem is your father’s entertaining another offer. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of DLP?”

“Davis-Lane Pharmaceuticals.” She watched him intently now, leaning slightly forward, a spark in her eyes. Another tidbit he’d learned while googling Rosanna Farzad: she’d built her cosmetics company from the ground up. With her father’s money likely, but she helmed the growing business—avant-garde makeup geared toward bold men and women. Her accolades proved Rosanna was as shrewd as her father, her wild ways notwithstanding.

“You may not want to date me,” Weston said, “but I can assure you Aldrich Pharma is a business built on integrity. If we make promises, we keep them, which includes keeping Biotrell’s employees on our payroll. DLP has offered the same, but I’ve seen them break agreements. They also have a reputation for underhanded dealings.”

“That’s all well and good, but I have no intention of settling down and living behind a white picket fence for a business deal.”

“What if we make our own deal?”

She straightened on her seat and gave her hair a flirty flip. “I’m listening.”

“We pretend to date. Make sure we’re seen together enough to make it believable. Your wild parties would be on hold, and there could be no social media stunts, but you could still date your dangerous men, as long as you keep it quiet. After the merger’s signed and your father’s over your yacht stunt, we call it quits publicly.”

She tapped her fingers on the table. “What if marriage to a steady guy is the only way to appease my father?”

“Marriage is off the table.” A line drawn in permanent ink. “It’s up to you to sell him on your changed ways. Convince the man you’re happier and won’t cause him more grief.”