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I sit, staring at the ground. My stomach churns with uncertainty.
Can I really do this? Take his money? Take his help?
I don’t know what it’ll mean. If I’ll owe him whatever I charge to the card, or if I’ll owe him even more than that.
He said we were married. He told a serious Irish gangster that I’m his wife—and I played along.
I feel like that means something, but not something good.
Like we’re bound in the lie, and if I keep following him, I’ll end up going further than I ever imagined.
Further into this fake little world he created.
But the feeling of his mouth on mine, his fingers digging into my side—it makes my heart start to race.
“You kissed me last night,” I say, chewing on my lip at the memory. I blurt it out before I can stop myself.
He laughs, a sensual chuckle. “I was trying to sell the story. You’re welcome.”
“For the kiss? It was a good kiss, but not something I’d thank you for.”
I can hear the smile in his voice. “You liked it? I thought you would. But no, I mean you’re welcome for making sure the Crowley family didn’t murder you.”
“Oh. Right. That little detail.”
“Yes, that. I’m glad you enjoyed the kiss though. Now, go get me the cross streets.”
I slowly stand. “It was an adequate kiss, don’t get all excited.” I find my location and tell him. “I’m not even sure why I’m doing this. I mean, that was really, beyond bizarre. I’m supposed to be your assistant. You’re my freaking boss. I barely know you. Why did you say we’re married?”
“We’ll discuss that in person. Stay where you are, the car’s coming.”
“Gareth, wait, hold on—” But the line goes dead.
Typical controlling asshole.
I stand there in the hot Texas sun, weighing my options. I could go back to the motel Eduardo mentioned and take my chances with what little cash I have left.
Or I could get in Gareth’s car and find out how weird this little wrinkle in my professional life is going to get.
I wipe my forehead. There’s no real choice. I’m broke, my apartment burned down, I don’t know where my car is, and I have no family or friends in town to help me out.
Which means Mr. Bossy-Asshole is my best option.
When the car shows up, I toss my luggage in the trunk, and climb inside.
Chapter6
Gareth
I’m going to get myself killed.
And I probably deserve it.
I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, saying Fiona is my wife. As soon as I went back into that room, I could tell the vibe had changed. Orin went along with the meeting like nothing had happened, but his sons kept staring at me, especially that creature Liam.
They could tell it was bullshit.
But it was such an insane lie, they probably couldn’t figure out how to prove that I’m a fraud.
