Page 7 of One Midnight Kiss

I shrugged. “I’m relatable. I’m just a normal guy.”

Wilder laughed. “Yeah, bro. At the end of the day, you ride your private elevator up to your penthouse. You know, just like a regular guy.”

“At least consider making a few changes,” Christa said. I didn’t like the way her eyes lit up, like she had an idea she’d been sitting on, waiting for the right moment to unleash it.

“What exactly are you suggesting?” I asked warily.

“You need two things,” she said, ticking them off on her fingers. “One, a new marketing firm. Someone who can spin this product in a way that makes people feel safe and excited instead of nervous. They need to feel the same excitement they felt for the new iPhone.”

I scoffed. “I’m not bringing in some suit-wearing, ad-agency puppet to tell me how to market Hanna. This isn’t a beer commercial. I’m not Mad Men-ing HomeTech.”

“It’s your baby’s funeral,” she said with a shrug. “Hanna is going to crash and burn. You’re going to lose your ass. I know you’re rich enough to afford it but how many times can you lose a bajillion dollars?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not going to lose money. People just need to see the tech in action. I’m all about making their lives better.”

“Fine, have it your way,” she said breezily. “But that’s only part of the problem.”

“And what’s the other part?” I asked with a sigh.

“You need a partner,” she explained. “A life partner.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” I asked. “I have partners. Jerrod. The board.”

“Not that kind of partner,” Christa said. “You need to be more palatable. Like Wilder.”

I looked at my fraternal twin brother, then stared at her. “You’ve lost your mind.”

Wilder sat up and grinned. “Oh, I like this,” he said. “You know, honey, I’ve tried to set a good example but there’s just no taming this stallion.”

“I’m glad you’re having fun.” I shook my head. “I’m in the middle of a legit crisis right now.”

“The solo rich bachelor thing isn’t working,” Christa said gently. “You need to be less solo and more…”

“Ball and chained,” Wilder finished. He was grinning like an idiot until he looked at his wife, who was shooting him a dirty look. “Happily ball and chained, let me add.”

“Married?” I asked in disbelief.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Wilder said, serious again. “Find yourself a nice, wholesome wife for the public to fawn over. Someone sweet and pretty that will soften your image.”

Christa nodded. “Yes. Exactly.”

I laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. “I don’t know what’s in these croissants but you two sound like lunatics right now. Get married? Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m not saying you get married,” she said. “But it wouldn’t hurt if people thought you were engaged and on your way to being married. It’ll make you look respectable.”

“There are less drastic ways to look respectable,” I said, shaking my head firmly.

Christa didn’t back down. “I’m serious, Fox. Think about it.”

I rolled my eyes. “So, your solution is a fake fiancée?”

“Why not?” Wilder said. “It’s perfect. You get to show the public a softer side, someone who’s in it for more than just the business angle. And you’ll have a partner to show off during press events, someone who makes you look more human. Maybe you post some pictures of your lovely lady interacting with the AI. Make it look natural.”

I could feel the gears turning in my mind despite myself. It was a terrible idea but I didn’t have any better ones. And if Christa was suggesting it, she probably already had someone in mind. She always thought things through five steps ahead. And I trusted her. She was very savvy and was always honest with me.

Christa’s smile turned triumphant. “I know someone who would be perfect.”

“Of course you do,” I muttered.