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She says it like it’s an idea she’s still trying out. Like she’s expecting me to contradict her.
“You can absolutely do this,” I agree. “And you can do it a lot faster with my help.”
She hesitates.
“Come on, Amelia,” I coax. “What’s really holding you back?”
She runs a hand through her hair, restless. “I mean,livingtogether. For two months. I barely know you.”
It hits me then, the amount of trust I’m asking her to place in me. I’m asking her to move in with a stranger who’s bigger, and stronger, and way more powerful than she is in the eyes of society.
“You’d have the guest suite,” I say. “In case I didn’t make that clear. It comes with its own lock, bathroom, and mini fridge. If you stick to takeout, you’d never need to see me at all.”
“That helps,” she says. “But how will we convince people we decided to get engaged after knowing each other for two weeks?”
“We’ll say we knew each other, years ago,” I say. “When you showed up back in my life unexpectedly, I knew I couldn’t let you slip through my fingers again.”
“How romantic,” she says dryly, but her eyes are soft.
She really is a romantic, I realize. Someone who wants to believe in fate, luck and wishing on stars.
She’s wrong. There’s no such thing as any of that. But I kind of like that she believes in it.
I bet she’s the kind of woman who goes all soft and starry-eyed when you light candles, or show up with roses. I bet she’d let a man sweep her off to bed like a knight rescuing the princess.
You’re no knight,I remind myself.And a princess is the last thing you need.
I clear my throat and focus on the business at hand. “That’s two objections taken care of. What else?”
“What if you change your mind part way through?” Amelia asks. “What if you find a different, easier way to influence board members, and I’m left with nothing?”
“I won’t do that,” I say.
“I need more than your word.”
“Right,” I say, grabbing a napkin and pulling out a pen from my jacket pocket. “You need a contract.”
“On a napkin?” Amelia laughs.
“Do you see any other paper lying around?” I ask, indignant.
“No, no, go ahead,” she says smiling.
I writeCole and Amelia’s Fake Fiancé Contractat the top of the napkin.
“If you don’t want people to be suspicious when the engagement ends, it should last beyond the board vote,” I say. “Eight months?”
“Six months,” Amelia counters. “It falls apart when we start trying to plan the wedding and the stress makes us realize we have very different priorities in life.”
“Works for me,” I say.
I writeCole Ashford and Amelia Maguire will fake an engagement for six months for the benefit of both parties. After the engagement’s dissolution, Cole will pay Amelia...
I look over at her. “What’s your yearly salary?”
She tells me.
I multiply it by three and add it to the contract.
