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“Of course. I know you’ll do your best, Lucie.”
Finally, I get all three officers out the door and heading to their patrol car. Then I turn for the kitchen. The barking has stopped. Gavin must have let the dogs in. They’re probably gathered around him, begging for treats. He’s a complete pushover when it comes to my pets, dolling out biscuits like candy. And they love him for it.
I pause in the hallway and prepare to have a few words with my best friend. Where does he get off drafting me into his fake fiancée plot without my consent? He knows I hate the scrutiny that comes with living in his world. My ex walked in his circles, living for his bank account and the status that went with it.
Mr. Mistake wanted the perfect life—or at least the appearance of perfection. And that bastard did everything he could to mold me into his model wife.
I refuse to be boxed in by another man’s ridiculous quest for perfection.
Three years since my divorce and I’m still reminding myself of that fact. But it’s worth repeating. Money, success, and status—those things don’t define me now, and they never will again.
Drawing a deep breath, I march into the kitchen, ready to give Gavin a piece of my mind. I freeze two steps inside the room. My muscles contract as if daring me to interrupt the heart-melting tableau on my tile floor.
Gavin’s right arm is looped over Ava, hugging her to his side. My sweet girl has the face of a Shepard. When she grins, the view of her teeth has a tendency to appear menacing. But I recognize her toothy smile as a sign of pure bliss. Ava is one belly rub away from falling head-over-paws for the billionaire.
And she’s not the only one.
My terrier selected a spot on Gavin’s long, outstretched legs. Cleveland looks as if he would happily play the part of a house cat as long as Gavin let him stayed curled up like that forever. Rocky, my old Labrador mix with the gray muzzle and bat-like ears that suggest he has some Shepard in his parentage, is perched on Gavin’s left side, happily licking his unshaven jaw. The scene is equal parts moving and hot.
My heart isn’t the only thing in danger of melting.
“Before you get mad, hear me out,” Gavin says as Rocky continues to bathe his day-old stubble in doggie slobber. “I have a proposition for you.”
I raise an eyebrow. Ginger presses up against my legs. At least one of my cats is eager for my attention. “I think you were supposed to proposition me before announcing our engagement to the police. When you wait until after, the correct word is trap.”
“You can still say no.” Gavin’s voice rings with sincerity. “But you have to admit, everyone would believe our sudden engagement. It’s a good story. If you’d let me finish telling the cops how seeing you covered in blood—”
“I get it,” I interrupt. I can see last night’s reality rewritten and transformed into a happy-ever-after romance too. Once upon a time, I was a bonafide romantic. That’s how I fell for Mr. Mistake. He swept me off my feet with fancy meals at the best restaurants and expensive jewelry. In the months of our relationship, I felt like I was cast in a classic romance movie. I never questioned what it would cost me to keep the role of Mr. Mistake’s perfect wife.
But now I live in the real world, and my version of everyday life comes with a half-dozen four-legged dependents. I might have more soon.
“I’ll make it worthwhile for you too,” Gavin says.
I bite my bottom lip. I have thoughts about that. So many thoughts. But I’m locking them all away in a mental compartment labeled Things You Do Not Discuss with Your Best Friend.
Plus there’s reality to consider.
“I can’t leave my dogs and cats up here while I jaunt off to the city and play your fiancée for a few weeks,” I say.
“Bring them,” he says. “Cleveland, Ava, Rocky, Luna and the cats. Bring them all with you.”
I let out a laugh. “You want me to move four dogs and two cats into your Manhattan penthouse? I went to college with your interior designer remember? She’s one of the few friends I stayed in touch with over the years. I know how much your furniture cost. I barely feel comfortable sitting on your couch. And you want me to move my animals in?”
“Yes.” He gently guides Cleveland off his lap. Giving Rocky and Ava one more pet each, he pushes himself off the floor. “We’ll spend weekends up here. At my house or yours. As long as my schedule allows. We need to make this look real.”
“I’ll need to go out with you in the city,” I say.
He meets my gaze and nods. Yes, we both know what that means. I’ll need to reenter Mr. Mistake’s world—a place where money, appearance, and image matters.
“I know what I’m asking,” he says. “I wouldn’t go through with it if this wasn’t important. If Alexandra had come at me with another sex tape …” He shakes his head.
“You’re sure you need to fight Alexandra?” I already know the answer. He wouldn’t have driven up here in the middle of the night if he thought a one-time payment would make the threat go away.
“Yes,” he says. Ava returns to his side and sits. Her tall, long ears stand at attention, and his hand brushes the top of her head. “The only way I survived was to believe I could be someone else. That kid in the picture—Terrance …”
He says the name, his name, the one given to him at birth, with such revulsion that I take a step back. But my sweet Shepard leans closer to Gavin’s side as if sensing his need for K-9 support.
“That kid,” he continues, “was weak and powerless. He couldn’t run a billion-dollar company. He couldn’t convince investors to give him the capital required to start a lemonade stand, never mind a tech venture.”
