I focus on Ivy, my cross-examination glare in full-force, waiting for her response.
As if she hasn’t a care in the world, she takes her sweet time preparing her coffee. Sugar, cream, then she slowly lifts the rim of the cup to her mouth, and blows. “I heard you on the phone with Henry and assumed he was your…”
“Wait.” I snicker. “You thought I was gay?”
“Pretty much. And it all made sense at that point. Why you need a fiancée for hire, I mean. Until I realized Henry’s your driver, not your better half.” She takes a sip of coffee, sets the cup down, then pins her elbows on the table. “Which still makes me wonder why you need a decoy.”
Pensively, I slide my gaze to the window’s view of the city. “I sort of lied to my parents over Thanksgiving dinner and told them I was engaged. Then to top it off, I said I’d bring my sweet bride-to-be home for Christmas.” I lower my head, then slowly raise it, meeting her wide-eyed blues head on.
“What made you lie?”
“Other than a case of temporary stupidity? My parents seem to believe I’m not settled down enough to take over the family business.”
Her curiosity is displayed through a head tilt as she sips her coffee.
“Hunter, Inc.,” I elaborate.
Coffee sprays out of her mouth and onto the linen tablecloth. “Hunter? ChaseHunter?”
Her reaction is typical since the Hunter name carries a lot of weight. Of course, it didn’t help matters when Forbes named me one of the most Eligible Billionaires last year.
“Yes, Chase Hunter—”
“The millionaire? Wait.Youcan’t find a real fiancée?” She sits back in her chair, arms folded across her chest, one cynical eyebrow lifted.
“Billionaire. And it’s not as easy as one would think. Unfortunately, I seem to attract all the wrong women.”
She scans the room in search of something. “I’m looking for the symphony of empathetic violinists to play softly in the background.”
Man, she’s a feisty piece of work—a quality I already have a love-hate relationship with.
