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Drat.
“What’s your real objection?” he prods. He’s got his making-a-deal face on. The last time I saw it was at Tom’s wedding when the venue was double booked, and Gage bribed/bullied the other wedding into relocating so that Tom and his wife could get married.
It was impressive if you could ignore how much work that poor couple must have put into planning their wedding.
“My objection? Faking an engagement is a ridiculous, irrational thing to do.”
“I assure you, my reasons are entirely rational. And professional.”
I snort. I can’t help it.
He looks irritated. “My mom will only approve a certain business move if I show her I’m investing in my personal life. So you’re going to pretend to be my fiancée for six months. I’ll pay you handsomely for your service. It’s perfectly rational.”
It is so obviously not rational, but I’d been warned that billionaires didn’t always have the firmest grasp on reality.
I reach for another objection. “We don’t even like each other. How will we convince people we’re in love?”
Gage gives me a look. “Come now, Violet. Last night proved we have a certain...chemistry.”
I feel my blood heat.
He continues, “That will be sufficient to convince people.”
“But can’t you find someone else?” I jump up and start pacing. I feel like the walls are closing in on me. “Why does it have to be me—”
My heel slips in the spilled slushy, and my feet skid out from under me.
Gage grabs my waist to catch me, yanking me to him. I grab his arms for balance.
Shit. He’sstrong.
My heart tumbles around in my chest, disoriented. Gage is looking down at my mouth with those blue eyes of his that see everything. I part my lips, and his eyes darken.
Just like that, I feel my body start to soften. Go liquid, ready for him. Kissing him would be a terrible idea. I don’t evenlikehim. But the last few days have been so stressful, and it’s been so long since I kissed a man, and Gage might be an asshole, but something tells me he kisses like a God.
“Think about it,” he says, and for a confusing second, I think he’s read my mind.
And then I realize he’s talking about the fake engagement.
I blush and hastily step out of his arms. “No.No. I’m not doing this. You can’t just throw money at me, and expect me to—”
“I’ll pay you half a million dollars.”
“What now?” I say, half intrigued despite myself.
Half a million dollars.
That’s...
Wow.
Once the six months are up, I could quit and never work as an assistant again. I could take my time and find the perfect art teaching job.
Hell, I could start myowncommunity art center. Hire some of my friends who lost their jobs.
Of course, I’d need to find space to rent.
Unbidden, the image of an old, empty storefront that used to be an art supply store springs to mind. It’s not too far from my apartment, and it would make an amazing location.
