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For some reason, before I even asked, I’d almost gotten…attached to the idea of it being her at my side. I think she would do a great job, and her excitement over the holidays would cover up any awkwardness we’d feel over having to pretend.

Plus, the bonus I offered wasn’t chump change.

Unless she was insulted by it?

The oven chimes. My chicken is ready. I collect it, slide it onto a plate, and move to the table to enjoy the food. Enjoy might be too strong a word. The chef is spectacular, but eat the same thing often enough, and it’s just a part of your routine.

Still, the whiskey is good. Maybe it will help me come up with an idea. A way through this problem.

Perhaps it’s some magical brew, because right as I take the first sip, my phone lights up with a call from Cami Aaronson herself.

“Hello?”

“I’ll do it,” she says, sounding a little breathless. “I’ll come to Finland and be your fake fiancée. But we need to set out some ground rules.”

“Okay.” I fight to keep my relief from showing. Something else in my stomach lightens at the thought of spending more time with her. I ignore it. “And what are those?”

“First, I…I want double. What you offered in your office.”

I grin, strangely proud of her for pushing. “Deal.”

Cami is quiet for a long moment. I wonder if she’s thinking she could have negotiated for more. She could have.

“Okay.” She clears her throat, and I can practically imagine her swallowing, referring to notes in front of her. “And this situation, it’s just…pretending. I assume we’ll need to be affectionate, maybe hold hands, tiny pecks? But no physical intimacy beyond that.”

That thing in my stomach turns hot. I shift, clear my throat. “Of course not. It wouldn’t be necessary for the lie.”

I shouldn’t have used the word lie. It makes her go quiet for another long moment, which stretches out too long.

“I just want to get this acquisition,” I say, softening my voice, wondering what she looks like on the other end of the phone. What does her apartment look like? Is she in her pajamas? “And engagements end all the time. When ours does, it will be a pity, but sometimes people just aren’t compatible. Nobody will ever have to know it wasn’t completely true.”

Cami’s voice sounds choked. “Right. Engagements end all the time.”

I flag that hitch in her voice, and while I want to dig deeper, there are more important things to focus on right now.

“What are your other ground rules?”

“I get to fly first class. And, like, anything you get, I do too. On the trip.”

“Of course. That’s exactly how I’d treat my fiancée.”

“I’ll need the payment up-front. Especially since my wardrobe might need a little refresh. To make it believable, I mean, that we⁠—”

“Done. I have a request of my own.”

Cami’s voice drops to a murmur. “You do?”

“The trip isn’t for another week,” I say, heart starting to beat hard. I ignore it. Since when do I get nervous during negotiations? “I think it would be best if you came to stay with me.”

“At your house.”

“Yes. At my house. In your own guest room.”

Cami takes a breath that manages to say this is crazy. I agree with her, but it’s also necessary. Another long beat stretches between us, and I think she might withdraw her participation, now that she’s really thinking about it.

But when she finally speaks, that’s not what she says at all.

“Okay,” she says. “Deal.”