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As much asshe loved holding Brick’s hand, feeling his strength, his compassion—oh, his desire—she needed a moment to herself. She extracted her hand from his, claiming she needed to use the bathroom one more time. She didn’t, of course.
The ring glittered in the bright bathroom lights. Turning her hand ever so slightly this way and that, she was mesmerized by the sparkle. A beautiful one-carat round diamond. It wasn’t too much that said over-the-top, but it wasn’t small enough that said the buyer had been cheap.
It was utterly perfect.
And should not be resting on her finger.
One of her fingers glided over the top of it but didn’t touch.
Wow. She still couldn’t believe it. His grandmother’s ring, and he trusted her enough to wear it. She hated to admit she had never even thought of a ring. It would be one of the first things her mother zoomed in on. Judging, weighing her decision—one of many—if Brick was good enough for her. Despite the ring being perfect, she knew her mother would still hate Brick on sight.
Because he wasn’t Bradley Donald Whitaker III. The man her mother had picked for her from a young age, insisting he was her perfect match. No amount of arguing, whining, and insisting she didn’t love Bradley made a difference.
You don’t need love in a marriage. You need stability, status, and money. That is all that matters, Jezebelle.
She could hear her mother’s voice as if she stood right next to her speaking in that condescending tone she always used. When her mother had said that to her at the age of eighteen, her dreams waiting ahead of her, she had wondered if her mother even loved her dad. Because that statement said otherwise. Despite her dad being a successful lawyer, he came from money. Lots and lots of money. Was that why they married? Because her mother loved the idea her dad had more money than he knew what to do with.
She hadn’t been completely honest with Brick when they hatched this plan. Her mother didn’t want her out of the city simply because she didn’t believe acting was a real job. She finally wanted Jezebelle to settle down—with Bradley Donald Whitaker III.
A knock on the door had her jumping.
“Are you okay, Jezebelle? We’ll be late if we don’t leave.”
Oh, that man. He had to be terrified to meet her mother because she had painted a certain picture of the woman, yet he was prepared to do what he needed to do.
“Be right out.”
Lingering and delaying the inevitable would not stop what was happening. They were going to meet her mother for breakfast. It was happening. She had to snap out of her terror and put her game face on. Pull one of her characters out and do the best acting performance she had ever done.
And she was a star on the stage. She never faltered in her lines or her movements. Always graceful and concise. She could do this.
She would do this.
Glancing at the ring one more time, the smile that lit up her face wouldn’t disappear. If she was going to be Brick’s fiancée for the next five days, she was going to enjoy every minute of it.
She whipped open the door and slid her arm through his. She could do this. She could pretend he was hers for a moment in time and fool her mother. Her determined strides with a bright smile as she headed toward the door said she could.
“Let’s do this, darling.”
“Oh, darling. A pet name. Of course, my sweet love, let me,” Brick said as he pulled open the door for her with a devilish grin.
Oh, yes. This was going to be so much fun with Brick by her side. He didn’t falter at the sound of a silly endearment, trying it out so when she was in front of her mother it wouldn’t sound forced or fake. No, he jumped right in, adding his own delightful words. My sweet love. How lovely it sounded coming from his delectable lips that knew what they were doing. He had touched her in so many spots last night that her body still tingled from the aftermath.
She had been devastated this morning she had to stop him from pleasuring them both in the shower. But in the end, being late would be far worse than enjoying a few moments of bliss.
That, of course, didn’t mean she wouldn’t make it up to him later. She had asked if he wanted more of that, and she knew he had, just as much as she wanted so much more.
When they stepped outside of the bar, she felt him tense then freeze at the sight of the limo sitting out front.
She had sent a text to her mother late last night about where she was now living, knowing her mother would send a limo. The fact she had given her a different address from the one she was used to she knew her mother would have tons of questions. Her mother never called her because she always preferred to speak in person where she knew she could assert her authority better. With her piercing gaze, her stern expression, that lone brow that always rose with derision and disgust.
“That’s not for us, is it?”
She patted his arm. “I’ll buy you whatever you want after this is over. Thank you for helping me out, Brick. You don’t know what’s in store for you.”
He twisted, brushing his hand across her cheek. “I don’t need anything from you. That’s what friends do. Help each other out.” Then he leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to her lips.
“There are certain perks that are nice,” he whispered against her lips. He winked before turning to the man standing outside the limo door waiting for them to enter.
