Page 13 of Fake it for Keeps

“It’s over a hundred thousand, actually,” I said, crossing my arms. “Just to be clear.”

Hallie turned to stare at me. I could practically see the wheels turning in her head.

Della jumped in before Hallie could bolt again. “Here’s the deal. You would agree to play the part of Colt’s fiancée until Valentine’s Day. There would be a wedding ceremony—a large one, with all the appropriate fanfare—but no legal paperwork would be signed. After the ceremony, you’d remain ‘married’ until July. Six months total. Then the contract ends, and you’re free to go your separate ways.”

“A fake wedding,” Hallie said slowly, like she was trying to wrap her head around the concept. “You want me to fake marry him.”

“He wants you to fake marry him, but yes,” Della confirmed.

Hallie glared at me. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Hallie,” Della said. “We try not to judge here.”

“Do you have any idea how insane that sounds?” Hallie’s voice rose slightly, her composure cracking. “I’d be known forever as Colt Jesson’s ex-wife. That’s not exactly a selling point for my future dating life.”

“Being my actual wife would be worse,” I said, unable to resist. “At least this way, you get to walk away with a small fortune and some fun stories.”

Her eyes flashed. “I’d rather throw myself in the Hudson in the middle of January.”

“That seems a bit dramatic,” I said, fighting back a grin. “The Hudson is freezing this time of year. Hypothermia sets in within minutes.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Della shot me a look that clearly said shut up and let me handle this. I leaned back against the conference table, content to watch Hallie squirm.

“Let’s talk numbers,” Della said, her tone shifting to pure business. “You would make more on this one job than you would on the dating side of things.”

“Then let’s sweeten the deal,” I said. “I’ll pay you seventy-five thousand dollars up front. Another seventy-five after the wedding. And a final payment of a hundred thousand in July when the contract expires. That’s two hundred and fifty grand total.”

“A quarter million dollars? How desperate are you?” Hallie’s jaw tightened. I could see her trying to maintain her resolve, but that much money was hard to ignore. I knew because I’d spent half the night calculating exactly how much it would take to make this worth her while.

“That’s a lot of money, Hallie,” I said, dropping my voice a little. It was like baiting a fish. She was so close. I didn’t want to scare her away. “What would you do with it?”

“That’s none of your business.”

No one said anything for several long seconds. The tension in the room was thick. I didn’t totally understand her reaction. I knew pretending to marry me was a big deal, but I wasn’t an ogre. Most women would jump at the offer without needing the fat paycheck. They’d be scheming to convince me to marry them for real.

And Hallie wrinkled her nose at me like I was a dirty diaper on the sidewalk.

“I’ll give you two some privacy,” Della said, slipping out of the room before either of us could question the logic of that decision.

The door clicked shut, and suddenly the conference room felt much smaller.

Hallie crossed her arms over her chest. I tried not to notice the way the gesture pushed her breasts up slightly. Focus, Colt.

“This is insane,” she said. “You know that, right?”

“Probably.” I moved around the table, putting some distance between us before I did something stupid like reach for her. “But it solves both our problems.”

“What problems could you possibly have?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re a billionaire. You have everything.”

“Except a decent reputation.” I sat down, gesturing for her to do the same. She didn’t. “My investors are losing faith in me. My customers think I’m a joke. How can I sell engagement rings when the world sees me as a man who can’t commit?”

“Maybe stop sleeping with everything that moves.” She shrugged. “I just saved you a quarter million dollars.”

“Tried that. Didn’t take.” I grinned at her outraged expression. “Look, I need to clean up my image before Valentine’s Day. Our busiest season. You obviously need money. I’m not judging, but if you’re willing to suffer through a date with John, I’m guessing you need money.”

“Still none of your business,” she muttered.