“Where did you run into her? People don’t smoke inside the Palmer House anymore.”
“She’s still technically a Brandt, and before that she was a senator’s daughter, right? She can do whatever.”
My jaw pinches.
That sounds familiar, and not at all like the girl I’m fake-engaged to.
“Shit. So you really did meet my mom—those are her words. Paige, if she’s done something—”
“I’m fine, Ward. She strutted up and sat down right beside me during a break in the panels. She practically blew smoke in my face.”
“Because she thinks we’re engaged?” I guess, shaking my head. “If this goes off the rails, it’s not because we don’t look engaged enough. It’s because my parents could fuck up a billion-dollar lotto win.”
She smiles faintly, her eyes distant.
“That’s the first smile I’ve seen since I got home.” I lean over and kiss her lips. “Don’t let her get to you. She doesn’t have the guts to sabotage what we’re doing. It’s Dad I’m worried about with that bullshit.”
“She said something interesting,” Paige says.
“Yeah?”
“Well, it’s none of my business, but—”
“You’ve tied your reputation to mine,” I cut in. “It’s your business. Our business, woman.”
“Are you sure? I guess I was just surprised to find out you were engaged before this.” She bites her lip and turns her head away. “It wasn’t fake that time, was it, Ward? But your mom clearly knows that I am.”
Fuck. My gut churns, sick with bad memories, so much crap packed into that singular statement.
“You didn’t admit anything, did you?”
“Of course not. If that’s what you’re worried about, don’t be. We’ve come too far to ruin this,” she snaps. “Could you go? I need sleep.”
She needs to know I’ve got her. I never concealed anything to hurt her.
Hell, being able to get hurt was never part of this sham. It just happened, and we’re still falling a little deeper with every illicit kiss.
I slide an arm under her and try to pull her closer, but she anchors herself to the sheets, intent on keeping her distance.
“I thought you were staying in my room?” I ask quietly.
“That wasn’t in the contract.”
I turn my head and try not to laugh. That won’t help, but damn she’s cute when she’s pissed and stubborn.
“I was engaged before, if you’re dying to know. It ended badly. Her name was Maria, and she was from a different world.”
Slowly, Paige turns and faces me again.
Finally.
“Like me, you mean.”
“No. Like I didn’t have the pedigree to walk in her footsteps. Her father was from Spain, a distant royal. They were old money with access to big, powerful names. Not the kind of people who enjoy getting a whiff of any dirty laundry,” I say, swallowing the bitterness that tries to creep into my voice.
“I heard she was a princess.”
I look at her. “What else have you heard?”
“She’s a supermodel. Maybe a superhuman princess,” she says with a snort.
“She’s a model. Not a princess—the noble titles are tenuous at best, even if they were very proud of them. Point is, her family was wealthier than mine and far more blue-blooded.”
“Wow. I kind of thought Brandts were the cream of the crop.”
“Hardly. In the billionaire world, we’re comfortable, but still very much new money.” I clasp my fingers together, trying to work out the tension.
“So what happened?” she asks, her voice unsure if she wants an answer.
“The Parnell incident was ripped open again after we announced our engagement, just like my dad—and probably my mom—wants to do now.”
“Why? I don’t get why your parents think it helps them to keep bringing up a horrible experience.” Her green eyes flicker in the shadows, baffled and afraid.
“Dylan’s family started a civil suit. They couldn’t get anywhere poking at the criminal justice system, not with flimsy evidence and the killer lawyers my parents enlisted. The new lawsuit put it back in the headlines. And right now, I think my parents hope that if they bring it up again, Grandma will pay them to go away.”
“That’s crazy!”
“They’re crazy. Anyway, with Dylan’s death rehashed and Dad mouthing off about it publicly, there was a ton of bad press. Maria told me to my face she deserved better, but she wouldn’t back out. She gave her word to marry me. I told her she could walk the fuck away and blame me. She chose not to, swore it would all blow over, and I was relieved. Truth be told, I didn’t want more humiliation. In the media’s eyes, I’d go from being the billionaire bad boy