AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Sure,” Jackson snorts. “I’ll check the mail order bride websites.”
“Very funny. Find a damn loophole. Isn’t that why I pay you the big bucks? To find loopholes?”
“You know…” Jackson’s brow furrows as he thinks. “I do have an idea…” His words taper off as he strokes his thumb over his chin and stares at the carpet.
“Anything. I’m desperate here.” I’ve got less than two months until doomsday.
“You’re not gonna love this, but hear me out.”
I gesture for him to continue, and he leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees.
“Find a woman to play the part of your fiancée. The two of you can parade around at your grandfather’s Christmas festivities like a doting, madly in love couple—I mean really play it up so he thinks you’ve fallen hard and fast.”
My jaw drops. Jackson is more than just my attorney. He and I have been friends since we were fresh out of college, both hungry to make a name for ourselves in our respective professions. His family’s firm comprises the majority of our New York legal team, but right now I might as well be staring at a stranger.
“I said hear me out.” He holds both hands in the air, palms out. “Give it a month or so, maybe two, then spread the word that she broke it off. Dumped you. Play the brokenhearted, jilted fiancé. The old man will feel so sorry for you that he’ll give you a reprieve for at least another year or two. It will at least buy you some time to figure out something more permanent.”
Hmm.
It’s not a terrible idea.
Yes, it is. Who am I kidding? It is a terrible idea, the worst. But right now terrible is all I’ve got.
“Who, though? Who can I get to play my betrothed?” I have a list of female acquaintances I call when I need a plus one, but I’ve never been serious about a woman.
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Call up one of the women you use as arm candy for galas and charity events.”
I narrow my eyes as I stare into space, my mind thumbing through my mental Rolodex.
“There’s always…what’s her name? Your leggy blonde go-to, the one who accompanied you to the children’s charity ball?”
“Angelique.” He knows her name. Jackson’s sharp as a tack. Calling her “what’s-her-name” is his way of passive-aggressively disrespecting her.
“Yeah.” By the tone of his voice, it’s clear he’s not completely thrilled by the prospect either.
Angelique and I have never actually dated, but we run in the same circles and she’s been my plus-one on several occasions.
She could certainly play the part. She’s attractive, has connections, and can navigate social situations like she was born for it.
If I ask this favor, though, she’ll want something in return and her price will be steep. Not to mention the fact that there’s no guarantee she’ll just walk away when the time comes and not try to sink her manicured claws deeper into me. As a man of considerable means, I frequently have women viewing me through dollar sign goggles.
“Not Angelique,” I say. “Not only don’t I trust her, I’m also not a skilled-enough actor to pull off being madly in love with that piranha.”
Lord knows, this damn marriage clause is enough of a headache; I don’t need a gold-digging socialite to compound the problem.
“Actually, I’m going to pass on the whole idea. It’s completely asinine.”
Jackson shrugs. “Well, I’ll keep looking for a loophole, but I’ll be honest, I don’t think I’ll find one.”
As Jackson stands to make his departure, there’s a single rap on my door before my assistant, Ms. Miller, enters. She’s dressed in her usual oversized blazer and long skirt and is nervously clutching a sheet of stationery in her trembling fingers.
Jackson greets Ms. Miller with a nod before sidestepping her to make his exit. At the door, he stops. His gaze flits from Ms. Miller to me and back again before he shoots me a meaningful brow quirk.
I widen my eyes before narrowing them into a glare. Is he honestly suggesting I ask Ms. Miller to pretend to be my fiancée?
Bad idea.
I have a hard enough time as it is when she’s around. It’s hell trying to keep my thoughts on business with my mind constantly distracted contemplating the delicious curves and voluptuous figure I suspect are hidden under her shapeless, middle-aged-schoolmarm attire.
