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“No one will believe this farce if we don’t look like we’re together,” she explains. “That may lead to an occasional kiss. You need to appear head-over-heels in love with me. I haven’t met Alexandra the blackmailer, but I’m guessing she was gorgeous—”
“You are too,” I cut in. “And you know it.”
“That’s not my point. You had your hands all over Alexandra when you were in public, didn’t you? Constantly looking for ways to slip away for some alone time?”
Holy shit. She knows.
I blink and try to find the appropriate response. “I promise to keep my sexual kinks in check for the duration of our relationship” sounds … flat-out wrong.
“You’re crazy if you think most of Manhattan, or at least the people in your social circle, don’t know about your habit of disappearing from public events with your girlfriend-of-the-hour to find a semi-private location.”
That explains how Alexandra set up the perfect relationship trap.
I turn my focus to the notepad. “No kissing unless necessary to maintain the ruse,” I say as I write the words. “Kayla is in charge of defining necessary.” I glance up. “Sound fair?”
“No, it needs to be equal,” she says. “You’re better at reading these people than I am. You might see a moment that demands a kiss that I completely miss because I’m too worried about running into my ex-husband.”
“Good point.” I revise the rule and then glance up at her. “Can I add one now?”
She nods to the legal pad. “Of course.”
r /> “Rule number three.” This time I maintain eye contact while I write. “I won’t take you anywhere if I suspect Mr. Mistake will be there. I can have my assistant check guests in advance. And if we show up at a restaurant and he’s there, we’ll leave.”
“Thank you,” she says and draws a deep breathe. She exhales and adds, “That brings me to rule four. I will decide what I wear to events.”
“Done,” I say quickly. I know it tears into her memories just to say those words. Experience has taught me that looking backwards always hurts. I know the same is true for her.
“Kayla can wear I love cats sweatshirts to black tie events if she wants,” I say as I write out the rule.
“It’s not a joke,” she says.
But when I look up, I see she’s fighting a smile.
“I’m not going to wear something that embarrasses you,” she adds. “I just need to choose my own clothes and shoes. I have to feel like myself when we go out.”
“You won’t embarrass me,” I say. “If someone starts to wonder why I proposed to the woman in the cat sweatshirt, I’ll play the Necessary Kissing card and drag you away to a quiet corridor where we will take a break from the party without having sex.”
“Are you going to tell your publicist the truth?” she asks.
“Last night, you said we should keep it from her,” he points out.
“I’m starting to wonder if we’ll need Margaret’s help to make this work,” she says.
I turn the question over in my mind. Margaret is one of the few people in the world who knows the truth about my past, but bringing her into this deception doesn’t sit right with me.
“No,” I say. “I think you’re right. I need her responding to the news like everyone else. Plus, if we can convince her, we can fool anyone. Then Margaret will dive into action when Alexandra comes forward with her threat.”
“So that’s rule five,” she says. “We keep this between you and me.”
“And your mother,” I add quickly.
Her eyes widen. “She’s in Florida, retired and golfing.”
“She’ll still hear about it. You’re her only child, and she lives in a gated community filled with other widows who obsess about their children and grandchildren.”
Kayla sighs. Yeah, I think she just realized that by agreeing to a fake engagement with a billionaire, she will be thrust into the spotlight. Half the country will see the news in gossip columns, both print and online. I’m willing to bet all of her mom’s community will find out.
“I refuse to lie to your mom,” I continue. “She made me promise to always tell her the truth—”
