“No.” Elise stated firmly. “He wasn’t….he wasn’t a good person.” Something about her tone sent off warning bells and whistles.
“Do you want me to talk to him?” I offered. And by talk I mean use his neck as a personal pez dispenser.
“No, it’s okay.” Elise gave me a soft smile that didn’t reach her eyes just as the limo pulled to a stop in front of her house. “Thank you for taking me home.”
“I’ll walk you to the door.” I told her, already edging for the handle.
“How chivalrous of you,” Elise teased. “You don’t have to though. Giving me a ride home was enough.” She tried to argue but I was already out the door.
I rounded the back seat just as Elise stepped out of the car and shut the door behind her.
She looked up at me on the dimly lit porch, arms folded, eyes guarded.
“I need you to arrange flights and a hotel for us. We’re going to Louisiana the day after tomorrow.”
The shift in conversation gave her an anchor, something solid to latch onto. “Louisiana?” she repeated, her brows furrowing.
I nodded. “I want to meet with Darryl in person. He’s got the potential to be Edge Record’s next big artist, and I don’t want him signing with another label before we have the chance to talk.”
The tension between us eased as she settled into something familiar. “I’ll take care of it tonight.” she said, her voice more sure now.
I nodded my head then added, “Get some rest, Elise.”
She gave me a small smile. “You too, Nathan.”
I watched her turn then step inside, the door closing between us. As I walked back to the limo, I exhaled slowly, running a hand over my jaw.
Part of me wanted to reach for her, pull her close, and forget everything except the way her eyes held mine earlier tonight.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I forced myself to remember why I’d started this in the first place. This wasn’t just a game, it was survival. And I was running out of time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
NATHAN
THE BAR WASdimly lit. It was the kind of place where deals were made in hushed voices over top-shelf whiskey. It wasn’t my usual scene; I preferred private lounges where discretion was guaranteed but Dalton had insisted. It was his way of forcing me to “relax” while we talked about the one thing that had consumed my thoughts more than it should have.Elise.
The polished wood of the bar gleamed under the soft golden lights, and the faint hum of a jazz band playing in the corner provided a smooth, rhythmic background to our conversation. I could smell the faint trace of expensive cigars in the air, mixing with the sharp scent of whiskey. There was a coolness to the room, the kind that came from years of secrets passed between men like us, but tonight it felt a little too exposed.
So,” Dalton drawled, studying me like I was a puzzle missing a piece. “How’s it going with our situation? Do I need to get fitted for my tux yet?”
I exhaled sharply, bringing the glass to my lips. The amber liquid burned as it slid down my throat, its warmth spreading through me. I wasn’t sure if it was the brandy or the conversation that was making me uneasy. “Fine.” I answered, ignoring his jab about the tuxedo.
Dalton snorted. “Fine? That’s it? You have a whole damn clock ticking on this inheritance stipulation, and ‘fine’ is the best you got?”
I said nothing at first, rolling the glass in my palm. He wasn’t wrong. The clock was ticking, nine weeks left to be exact. Nine weeks until my birthday. Nine weeks to get Elise to fall for me enough to agree to a marriage that would look real to everyone else.
“She’s warming up to me, I think.”
Dalton raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. “Warming up? That’s not exactly the level of progress I was hoping to hear. Especially not after that video I saw of the two of you together.” He let out a low whistle.
The video in question, the video everyone was still talking about, was the TikTok of Elise dancing on me.
She’d needed a male partner for the routine and I happily volunteered. In the clip, I’m in a chair, her moving to the music in perfect rhythm, brushing close, leaning in, hands sliding down my body. Sensual? Yes. But choreographed. Intentional. Not whatever fantasy the gossip mill was probably spinning out of it.
Dalton grinned. “That thing’s everywhere. You’re telling me you’re not worried?”
