down and made him promise never to do drugs on campus again. That’s what I’ve been reduced to: don’t do them “on campus.” Almost like I’m saying, “Hey, Wyatt, you can do drugs ’til the cows come home, but just do it somewhere you won’t get in trouble, okay?”
In the text Angelo sent me, he told me to pack as though I was going on vacation for a week. We didn’t mention anything about living together, but I guess that’s kind of implied when you’re fake-marrying someone, whatever the hell fake-marrying someone even means.
I knock heavily, taking a deep breath. It’s not like I’m nervous to see him, though. Even if I’m sore and tired from a twelve-hour shift.
But when the door finally opens, it’s not Angelo. It’s a tall man with a stiff back and a stiff upper lip, wearing a butler uniform, and I swear to God, before he even opens his mouth, I know he’s going to be British.
“Good evening, ma’am,” he says. British as hell. I knew it.
“Um, hello,” I reply. “I’m Dani. Nice to meet you?” I sound ditzy and out of my element, which I am. Way out of my element. A butler?!
But I don’t let any of that show on my face. “What’s your name?” I ask, when he just stands there, apparently waiting to see if I’ll talk again.
“You may call me Richard, ma’am,” he says.
“Does anybody call you Richie?” I tease.
The corner of his lip twitches. “My niece, my wife, and my mother,” he says. “Please, ma’am, let me show you to your room.”
“My room?” I ask.
He takes my bag before I can insist on carrying it myself. Then he’s leading me through the penthouse, past the bar, down a long corridor to a room at the back. This place is way bigger than I imagined. The ceilings are high. It has a cool New York loft vibe once you get out of the living room. Richie opens the door with an air of grandiosity and gestures inside.
Four-poster bed, en-suite with a hot tub, walk-in wardrobe, massive writing desk, separate lounge section with cream leather couches. Chandelier.
“Will it suffice, ma’am?”
“Jesus Christ, Richie,” I say in amazement. “It’d suffice for the queen of England. Yeah, I think it’ll do.”
“Excellent.”
Richie walks over to the bed and sets my bag down. He nods at the bed, where a dress and shoes have been laid out. “Mr. De Maggio requests that you make use of the clothes he has provided and meet him for dinner in—let me check—ah, precisely one hour.” He smiles down at his watch. “There will be a driver waiting for you in the lobby.”
“Make use of,” I laugh.
“Pardon me, ma’am?”
“You said I need to make use of the clothes. Like, what, make a kite out of them?”
He smiles good-naturedly. “I think he intends for you to wear them, ma’am, but I can get you a kite if you wish. In the meantime, would you like anything to eat or drink?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m good, Richie. Thank you.”
He nods at a golden bell on the dresser. “Just ring if you need me.”
“There is no way I’m ringing a bell for you,” I tell him. “You’re not a dog.”
He blanches, but he’s still smiling. “Ma’am, it is not offensive in the least, I assure you—”
“What’s your cell number?” I ask. “I’ll text you if I need anything.”
He opens his mouth to demur, but when he sees that I’m not going to quit, he gives me his number.
When it’s programmed into my phone, he asks, “Ma’am, is there anything else?”
“No, Richie, thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”
When he’s gone, I turn to the bed. The dress is a muted maroon and the heels are a shade of gray somewhere between moonlight and expensive silverware. There’s even a matching handbag.
Part of me rails at the idea of dressing up for him, like I’m his performing monkey. But, at the same time, this is what I agreed to, and Wyatt is still in college. That’s the most important thing. Oh, and the pay package we agreed to via text last night: how does five thousand a week sound, cash?
Five thousand a week just to wear a ring and pretend to be Angelo’s wife? And it means that Wyatt gets to fulfill his dreams of graduating with an impressive degree, and hopefully leave his druggie lifestyle behind?
Yep, I think I can handle that. I slip my shirt off and pick up the dress.