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Maybe she loved casseroles and he was insulting her taste. And her cooking skills. But he’d never said one word about her whipping up dinner for him each night, nor did he expect her to. She knew that. Right?
They had so much to learn about each other, especially if they were going to make this marriage seem as real as possible to everyone, except select few people they could trust, like Warren and Hendrix. If word got back to his grandfather that something wasn’t kosher, the charade would be over.
And he’d invested way too much in this marriage to let it fail now.
His phone beeped from his pocket, and since the CEO never slept, he handed over the glass dish to check the message.
Grandfather. At 6:00 a.m. Seoul time. Jonas tapped the message. All the blood drained from his head.
“Jonas, what’s wrong?” Viv’s palm came to rest on his forearm and he appreciated the small bit of comfort even as it stirred things it shouldn’t.
“My grandfather. My dad told him that we got married.” Because Jonas had asked him to. The whole point had been to circumvent his grandfather’s arranged-marriage plan. But this—
“Oh, no. He’s upset, isn’t he?” Viv worried her lip with her teeth, distracting him for a moment.
“On the contrary,” Jonas spit out hoarsely. “He’s thrilled. He’s so excited to meet you, he got on a plane last night. He’s here. In Raleigh. Best part? He talked my dad into having a house party to welcome you into the family. This weekend.”
It was a totally unforeseen move. Wily. He didn’t believe for a second that his grandfather was thrilled with Jonas’s quick marriage or that the CEO of one of the largest conglomerates in Korea had willingly walked away from his board meetings to fly seven thousand miles to meet his new granddaughter-in-law.
This was something else. A test. An “I’ll believe it when I see it.” Maybe Grandfather scented a whiff of the truth and all it would take was one slipup before he’d pounce. If pressed, Jonas would feel honor bound to be truthful about Viv’s role. The marriage could be history before dark.
A healthy amount of caution leaped into Viv’s expression. “This weekend? As in we have two days to figure out how to act like a married couple?”
“Now you’re starting to see why my face looks like this.” He swirled an index finger near his nose, unbelievably grateful that she had instantly realized the problem. “Viv, I’m sorry. I had no idea he was going to do this.”
The logistics alone... How could he tell his mom to give them separate bedrooms when they were essentially still supposed to be in the honeymoon phase? He couldn’t. It was ludicrous to even think in that direction when what he should be doing was making a list of all the ways this whole plan was about to fall apart. So he could mitigate each and every one.
“Hey.”
Jonas glanced up as Viv laced her fingers with his as if she’d done it many times, when in fact she hadn’t. She shouldn’t. He liked it too much.
“I’m here,” she said, an echo of her sentiment at the wedding ceremony. “I’m not going anywhere. My comment wasn’t supposed to be taken as a ‘holy cow how are we going to do this.’ It was an ‘oh, so we’ve got two days to figure this out.’ We will.”
There was literally no way to express how crappy that made him feel. Viv was such a trouper, diving into this marriage without any thought to herself and her own sense of comfort and propriety. He already owed her so much. He couldn’t ask her to fake intimacy on top of everything else.
Neither did he like the instant heat that crowded into his belly at the thought of potential intimate details. He couldn’t fake intimacy either. It would feel too much like lying.
The only way he could fathom acting like he and Viv were lovers would be if they were.
“You don’t know my grandfather. He’s probably already suspicious. This house party is intended to sniff out the truth.”
“So?” She shrugged that off far too easily. “Let him sniff. What’s he going to find out, that we’re really legally married?”
“That the marriage is in name only.”
To drive the point home, he reached out to cup Viv’s jaw and brought her head up until her gaze clashed with his, her mouth mere centimeters away from his in an almost-kiss that would be a real one with the slightest movement. She nearly jumped out of her skin and stumbled back a good foot until she hit the counter. And then she tried to keep going, eyes wide with...something.
“See?” he said. “I can’t even touch you without all sorts of alarms going off. How are we going to survive a whole weekend?”
“Sorry. I wasn’t—” She swallowed. “I wasn’t expecting you to do that. So clearly the answer is that we need to practice.”
“Practice what?” And then her meaning sank in. “Touching?”
“Kissing, too.” Her chest rose and fell unevenly as if she couldn’t quite catch her breath. “You said we would best get through the adjustment period by spending time together. Maybe we should do that the old-fashioned way. Take me on a date, Jonas.”
Speechless, he stared at her, looking for the punch line, but her warm brown eyes held nothing but sincerity. The idea unwound in his gut with a long, liquid pull of anticipation that he didn’t need any help interpreting.
A date with his wife. No, with Viv. And the whole goal would be to get her comfortable with his hands on her, to kiss her at random intervals until it was so natural, neither of them thought anything of it.
