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"Can you excuse me for a moment? I just threw up in my mouth. I need to go rinse it out."

My father grunted. "Are we really doing this tonight? And will you be able to be civil to Elizabeth?"

"Yes, we're really doing this. I'm getting married. Soon." I surprised myself by actually smiling as I thought of Blake. "And I'll be civil. I think I'm actually going to enjoy it."

Blake

The day stretched on forever. I went to the gym, I made my bed, I took a shower, I stared out the window… a lot. I called my mom to make sure she was okay. We chatted for a few minutes, and she caught me up on what was going on with our neighbors as well as the latest on her soaps. She didn't mention my sister, and I wasn't sure whether that was a good or bad sign. But I didn't bring Chelsea up, either. My mother sounded calm and healthy, and I saw no reason to get her riled up.

I would have cleaned the house, but it was already immaculate. I would've stocked the fridge and gone grocery shopping, but there was already organic food packed neatly on the shelves. I went out for a short walk through the park, but I just felt restles

s, aimless, as I watched young families playing with their children, and tourists riding the swan boats.

What the hell do rich people do all day if they don’t have to work? Or clean their house?

I wandered back to the penthouse and searched for something to read, cursing the fact that I'd left my Kindle at home. I'd been right in the middle of this book about a sexy, rugged treasure hunter who was an ex-Navy SEAL. The only books Lucas had on his shelves were business tomes and biographies. I finally grabbed one about the founder of Berkshire Hathaway and managed to concentrate on it for a few hours.

Then I reached the next stage of my day: widespread panic about meeting Lucas's family at dinner.

I tore through the outfits I'd packed, looking for something that would be attractive but also appropriate. I didn't want my boobs hanging out as I sat across the table from Lucas's father and ex-girlfriend. I did another Internet search on his family, and I ascertained that his father was a silver fox, a handsome and healthy-looking seventy-something. His wife, Elizabeth, was stunning. She had long auburn hair and porcelain skin. I pushed aside a twinge of jealousy as I studied her picture. It didn't do me any good to be jealous of my fake-fiancé's ex-girlfriend-slash-stepmother.

Finally, I looked at pictures of his sister again. Serena Ford was stunning as well. She had Lucas's curls, but she wore them long and loose over her shoulders. Long dark lashes framed her stunning green eyes, so similar to her brother's. I noticed in each of her pictures that she was dressed meticulously, her designer clothes hugging her curves. Serena appeared to have attended every charitable event in Boston for the past five years, always looking flawless. Then I came across her wedding announcement from years before: Serena Ford, Society Princess, Weds Robert Heathman, ER Doctor. There was a detailed description of her schooling: Miss Porter's, a post-graduate year at Proctor Academy, Sarah Lawrence. Robert's family was wealthy and prominent; Robert was a graduate of Harvard Medical School.

I briefly wondered why they'd divorced as I sat down on the bed and let out a shaky breath. I am so out of my league. I quickly ran through my fabricated backstory, so I felt somewhat prepared: I'd attended public high school and graduated from the University of New Hampshire. Compared to the Ford family, even my alter-ego was a nothing from nothing. But that was at least better than the truth: that I was a hooker pretending to be Lucas's fiancée. Yeah, that'd go over even better!

Finally, I calmed down enough to get dressed. I chose a black fitted sheath that was covered in lace. It had cap sleeves and a high neckline. I put it on and checked myself in the mirror; it was perfect. Fitted but not too showy. Classic. I checked the price tag before I removed it. Eight hundred dollars. I almost passed out. No wonder it was perfect!

I put my hair up in an elegant bun and was very restrained with my makeup. I inspected myself when I was finished and felt impressed. I looked like a gorgeous billionaire CEO's fiancée. Which I suppose I was. Sort of.

By the time Lucas got home, I was pacing in the living room, trying to resist the urge to either bite my nails or guzzle a bottle of wine. Or both.

He let out a low whistle as he came through the door. "You look stunning," he said simply.

"Thank you." I melted toward him a little. "Of course you know that you look stunning, too."

He loosened his tie and shrugged off his jacket. He flashed me a smile, punctuated by that dimple. "Of course I do. But I don't mind hearing it."

"Are you ready for tonight?" I could hear the nerves in my own voice.

"You've got nothing to worry about." Apparently Lucas could hear them, too. "We'll take care of my family. I'm going to try to enjoy myself." He poured himself a bourbon, and I watched him curiously.

"Do you always need liquid courage to prepare yourself for an enjoyable evening?" I asked. "And, um, can I have some, too?"

Lucas held out the bottle to me, but I groaned and shook my head, thinking better of it. He knocked his small drink back in one sip. "I always need a drink before I see my family. And I told my father we're engaged. He sounded as though he was about to pop a blood vessel."

"Was he… okay?" I asked. "Eventually?"

He shrugged. "He'll live. I didn't give him any details about the wedding because we still have to finalize that. But I'm going to let them know that it's next week."

I stumbled a little. "Next week? I thought you wanted to do it in three weeks. I haven't tried to book anything for that soon."

Lucas regarded me casually, the way only a billionaire planning last-minute nuptials could. "We'll figure it out. I can call in some favors from people who owe me if we do it in Maine. Or there's always Vegas. You can do pretty much whatever you want in Vegas so long as you're willing to pay for it. And I am."

"I've been thinking about that… about Vegas."

"What?"

I shrugged. "Don't you think your family would think it was a little, um, beneath them?"

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