I’ve had a lot of stupid ideas in my life. Trekking through the Highlands in high heels. That haircut inspired by Billie Eilish. But standing here at six in the morning, staring into my open closet, I’m forced to admit that pretending to be Alistair McKenzie’s fiancée in front of his investors probably takes the top spot.
“What do you even wear to convince a room full of businessmen you’re madly in love with your family’s sworn rival?” I mutter, flipping through hangers.
Too casual? They’ll think I don’t take the distillery seriously. Too formal? They’ll question whether my feelings are real. Too sexy? They’ll—nope. Not going there.
I finally settle on a fitted dress under a structured blazer. Professional, but not stiff. Kind of like our fake relationship, actually.
In Alistair’s car,on the way to Edinburgh, we run through our story for what feels like the hundredth time.
“So, we grew closer after a particularly intense argument at the heritage board meeting,” he recaps, eyes fixed on the road.
“You invited me to visit the distillery to show me your vision.”
“And you were so blown away by my charm and groundbreaking ideas that you instantly fell for me.”
I shoot him a glare. “Don’t push it, McKenzie. No one’s going to believe I fell in love with your oversized ego.”
“You’d rather we tell them it’s all to escape your grandmother’s matchmaking schemes and salvage my reputation with the investors?”
“Remember, it’s my professional expertise you’re after. Not my dazzling personality.”
“Why not both?” he asks, that dimple appearing in his left cheek.
I turn to the window, suddenly fascinated by the passing landscape. It’s easier than admitting that smile does strange things to my stomach.
The officesof Edinburgh Finance Partners look exactly how I imagined: glass, chrome, polished wood. The kind of placewhere life-changing decisions are made between sips of fifteen-pound coffee. I don’t quite feel like I belong here—but Alistair? He fits right in. This is his world.
“Ready?” he asks, adjusting his tie before we step into the conference room.
“As ready as one can be to lie to a group of millionaires.”
I give him a tight smile. He takes my hand, and I’m caught off guard by the warmth of his palm against mine.
“It’s just another kind of presentation,” he murmurs. “And you’re very good at those.”
The unexpected confidence in his voice hits deeper than I expect.
When we walk in, the six investors are already seated around the table. Four men, two women, all dressed in suits that probably cost more than my car. Their curious eyes sweep over me before Alistair even speaks.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming today. I’d like you to meet Keira McGregor—my fiancée.”
The word fiancée, said so naturally, sends a strange shiver down my spine.
“McGregor?” one man with graying temples immediately picks up. “As in the McGregor distillery?”
“That’s right,” I reply with a polished smile. “I grew up in whisky, you could say.”
“A McKenzie and a McGregor,” a sharply dressed woman says, intrigued. “Well, that’s unexpected.”
“Love tends to find the most surprising paths,” Alistair replies smoothly.
His hand settles at the small of my back.
I have to give him credit—he’s disturbingly good at lying.
Maybe I should be worried about that.
The presentation begins. Alistair lays out his vision for modernizing the McKenzie distillery with a passion I’ve neverfully seen before. His eyes light up when he talks about balancing tradition and innovation, and I catch myself watching him with genuine admiration.
