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“Compared to me, you’re ancient.” She finishes her glass of wine. “I’m not going to Boston with you next weekend. I’m sorry, I know this puts you in a bad position, but I need to figure my life out, okay? I get you want to fire me now and I don’t blame you at all. I appreciate you letting me rent a room here, but really, it’s fine. I’ll land on my feet. Or not, who knows.” She shoves back from the bar and stands. “Good luck with the mobsters, Gareth. Nice working for you. And kissing you.” She turns to walk away.
I stare at her back. At her thick, long hair, at her shoulders, at the curve of her lower spine. At her ass. I should let her walk. She’s right—it’d be insane to keep this ruse going.
But the Crowley family is dangerous. Even out here, in Texas, they have reach. They have soldiers.
“Let’s make a deal,” I say before she can run off.
She pauses and looks back. “What kind of deal?” Her eyebrows raise. Her lip curls with intrigue.
“I need your help. Despite what you might think, the Crowley family is serious business. If I can land them as clients, doors will open for me. I’m talking politicians. I’m talking CEOs. This is the next level, Fiona. The Crowley family is my way inside.”
It’s what I’ve always dreamed about: the next step toward power. It’s what I’ve always wanted, my friends and I in the Atlas Organization, our little group from college. Me, Evander, Carmine, Ford, and Lanzo. Working for the Crowley family is my best bet at moving up in the world.
From a small-time nothing to this.
But I need Fiona. Without her, I can’t make this happen, not after the stupid lie I told.
“What will you give me?” she asks, speaking low. She moves closer, leaning forward. My eyes flick to her tits, back to her lips, and to her eyes again. God damn, what is wrong with me? If she notices, she doesn’t seem to care. “You need me to play wifey. That’s basically insane. What do I get in return?”
“Money,” I say. Her eyebrows raise. “Alotof money. I’ll pay your student loans. I’ll buy you a new apartment.”
“And a new car,” she adds quickly. “Plus new stuff.”
“Fine,” I say, glaring at her. She knows she has the power in this negotiation. “But we’re getting married for real.”
We already are, but I don’t tell her that part.
She stands there for a long, stunned moment. I like that look on her face—total shock and surprise.
She thought this was a game.
But we can’t play pretend. The Crowley family may be a bunch of thugs and thieves, but Orin’s a clever man. He didn’t build the most influential criminal organization on the East Coast by being a fool. He’ll look into my story, and if anything is out of place—
He’ll make us both pay for it.
Which means she needs to be my wife, and it needs to look airtight.
“That’s stupid,” she says, shaking her head. “Marry you for real? Like with an actual wedding? Rings? Marriage license?”
“It’s the only way. I’ll make sure the paperwork gets backdated, but there has to be a record. There has to be—”
“No way,” she says, backing off. Her head shakes quickly, eyes wide. “No, sorry, I can’t do this.”
“Fiona—”
“I can’t marry you. Maybe that means I’m homeless, but sorry, Gareth. I’m not going to be your wife.”
She turns and hurries away, leaving me alone at the bar, wondering what the fuck just went wrong.
Chapter7
Fiona
Ilounge back on the bed paid for by Gareth, wondering if I just passed up my only chance at salvaging my life.
He wants to marry me. For real, an actual marriage.
Fake, but also not fake.
