you need a job, don’t you? How else are you going to afford all this?” I gesture facetiously around the apartment.
She rolls her eyes. “And why do you need me?”
“Ah, see, that’s a little more complicated.” I sit up, resting my elbows on my knees as I keep my eyes on her. “You see, I’ve had this problem for some time now. My grandmother, who means the world to me, is very sick and dying.”
“Oh no,” she breathes out, already feeling sorry for me, the poor little rich boy.
“She’s very special to me because after my mother passed away, she was all I had. My father was too busy working, and if it hadn’t been for my grandmother, I would’ve been raised by whomever my dad could hire.”
She nods, understanding.
“Her one wish in all the world is to see me married.”
Her eyes go wide. “I AM NOT marrying you.”
I snort. “Don’t be stupid. I’m not asking you to marry me. I’m asking you to pretend to be my fiancée for a little while—just until she passes.”
She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Then she stands up and starts pacing. “How long does she have to live?”
“The doctors have given her six to nine months, but we don’t think she’ll make it that long. Her quality of life is diminishing every day.”
“And how often would we have to put this show on? Like, once a month or something at family functions?”
“I have dinner with my grandmother every Friday night, and then there’s family brunch every Sunday.”
“Twice a week?” she asks, her voice rising and her eyes widening.
“For starters. There will be events here and there that I’ll have to attend for family obligations. Business deals, mergers, that sort of thing. But this isn’t an I rarely call on you here and there kind of thing. If you accept, this will be a day in and day out kind of deal. We have to sell it, which means we’ll have to get to know each other on a personal level. Not anything like how we are now.”
“Ugh,” she groans, falling back into her seat on the couch. “So not only do I have to come back to work for you where I’ll see you all day, but I also have to get to know you all night?”
“That’s right,” I agree with a nod and a smile.
She shakes her head. “Nope, no way.”
“All right. I guess I’ll just go ahead and call the police and turn in this video. You know that’s a felony, right?” I ask, pulling out my phone. “Get that pretty face ready for your mug shot, sweetheart.”
“Wait.” Her head falls back, causing her silky hair to fall off her shoulders. Her eyes close like she’s praying to the gods. “I’ll do it. I’ll come back to work for you and I’ll play this stupid little game.”
“Good. Thought you’d see it my way. First things first: pack your shit.”
Her head pops up. “What? Pack?”
“Yeah, my fiancée can’t live in a shit place like this. You’ll be moving in with me for the time being. My rental is downstairs. Bring what you can for now and we’ll have movers get the rest later. I’ll see you down there,” I say with a smile as I head for the door. I put my hand on the knob but freeze. “No cats allowed at my place.”
She frowns. “I don’t have a cat.”
All those fucking cat excuses and she doesn’t even have a cat? Yep, I’m feeling a lot better about my decision. I’m going to make her pay.
Three
Poppy
How the hell do I get myself into these messes? What have I done? I was happy to be rid of that job and him, and now I’m moving in with the guy? How is this normal? Do fake fiancée contracts actually exist, or am I trapped in some weird alternate universe?
I’m muttering a long string of cuss words as I’m shoving shit into my bag. If he’s going to make me do this, then I’m going to make it way more difficult than it has to be. He thinks I’m a pain in the ass? He hasn’t seen nothing yet! I grab every bag I own and fill them with random shit—even shit I don’t wear or haven’t worn in years. I pack every pair of shoes I have and every random product in my bathroom. I take the first load down: six bags that nearly take me to the ground, but