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Brent grins.
“Is it alcoholic?”
“No!” I squeal. “I can’t be selling alcohol to kids. Somehow, the alcohol disappears during the manufacturing process. But you get the gist: I’ll be a candy store and a specialty purveyor of exotic licorice. It’s going to be great.”
“Yeah, I think it will be,” he growls as he hauls me closer to him. “That sounds tasty.” He presses his lips to mine and we share a passionate kiss. But then he pulls away with those black brows raised.
“Starting a business is really difficult,” he warns.
“Tell me about it,” I sigh. “My god! My first batch of inventory is coming, and that was enough to give me a heart attack. I haven’t even opened my doors yet!”
Brent nods.
“Not to mention things like insurance, building inspections, and licenses honey. You know you can’t do business in New York City without them.”
I stare at him, stricken.
“Oh shit. Insurance,” I say. “Forgot about that.”
“Yup. Insurance for everything, like property insurance, loss-of-business insurance, and never forget: “Act of God” insurance.”
“Act of God?” I squeak.
He nods seriously.
“Yeah, in case there’s something like a tornado that takes your business away with it.”
I sigh. “Well, NYC doesn’t really get tornados.”
He grins. “It doesn’t, but we do flood on occasion, and remember Superstorm Sandy back in 2014? This shit is real.”
My shoulders slump.
“Oh god. I bet it costs a ton too.”
He nods smugly.
“It does, but honey, here’s where I come in. If you’re interested, I can provide capital for your business. Kind of like an investment of sorts,” he says casually.
“Provided I agree to be your fake fiancée, that is?” I ask in an arch tone.
He shrugs again with a smile. “Yes. It’s perfect actually. If you’re my fiancée, then it would be natural for me to want to support my new bride’s ambitions and interests. Of course, my first move would be to invest in your candy store. What’s it going to be called?”
“A Mouthful of Sweets,” I say.
His blue eyes gleam.
“I like it,” he replies. “Very suggestive. Give it a think, honey. I really believe this could work out well for both of us.”
I pause, just trying to let my thoughts settle. I suppose it does sound like a solid deal because to be honest, I’ve saved a lot from the past few years, but my cash cushion is already beginning to decline dramatically. I had to put a big deposit on my store space, and quite a few of my suppliers required significant deposits as well. And I haven’t even gotten one shipment of inventory in yet! Maybe Brent can help, even if this fake fiancée thing is a harebrained idea.
But that’s the thing: do I really want to be someone’s fake fiancée? It sounds complicated, and what would I tell my family, my friends, and any other man in my future? How would I demonstrate my respect for the sanctity of marriage, if I’ve already been married once just for the money?
This is a huge decision, and Brent can’t expect me to make it on the spot. I bite my lip again and look at the handsome man in bed next to me.
“I’ll think about it,” I finally say.
He pulls me in tight once again and whispers in my ear before pinching my bottom.
“Sure baby, take some time. Is one week enough? I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.”
And to my surprise, he captures my mouth in another passionate kiss.
“Brent!” I gasp while pulling away. The gorgeous man merely smiles again and slaps my bare bottom playfully.
“See? We’re already perfect as an engaged couple. It won’t be much acting at all.”
Then he captures my mouth again and I feel myself swoon. After all, I do need money for the next stage of my life, and Brent seems like just the man to make the transition possible.
5
Sansa
“So, how was your last night on the job?” Nella asks over the rim of her sunglasses.
We’re relaxing in lounge chairs by her building’s rooftop pool, the skyline of New York City sparkling in the near horizon. I wasn’t kidding when I said Paul set her and the kids up with a lavish life. Their building is in the expensive TriBeCa neighborhood, and their penthouse is to die for with a chef’s kitchen, a private gym, and six bedrooms. Who has six bedrooms in NYC?
But Nella’s still the down to Earth girl I’ve always loved. She’s like me: solidly middle class, even if now, her husband’s wealth has elevated her into the upper echelons.
“Are you sure you want to talk about that here?” I ask in a hushed voice, peering around us to see if anyone is in earshot. Her kids, Claire and Cassidy, are playing in the pool with their father, and Paul’s just taken a mini water-gun and squirted water in little Claire’s face. Instead of being pissed, the little girl is screaming with laughter. Meanwhile, Cassidy is in a yellow ducky innertube, having a blast kicking and splashing like crazy.
