My (Mostly) Fake Wedding - Penelope Bloom Page 0,22

sure you don’t get tangled up long-term with him. Oh, and they’re going to slap you with a fat wad of cash for your trouble? I mean, come on. Are you seriously debating this?”

I stared into my coffee cup. “You raise a valid point or two. But what about my feelings? What about, I don’t know, the whole sacred pact of marriage? Won’t I be dooming myself to some kind of cosmic karma kick in the ass if I play this game with him?”

“No. Okay, maybe. All I know is you’re going to get a very real Val kick in the ass if you don’t go find that man today and tell him you’ll do it. Wait too long, and you’ll lose your chance.”

“Why did you have to come visit this week of all weeks?”

“Because you need me and my brilliant advice, probably.”

13

Chris

Damon and I met in the conference room at Rose Athletic. Fittingly, it was the same conference room where Belle had signed on to be the wedding planner for Mindy and me.

Damon, wearing his usual ensemble of muted colors and fancy clothes, glared at me from across the table.

“What?” I asked.

“I still feel like this is all your fault. Somehow.”

“Hey, for once, it wasn’t. I didn’t put that well-endowed bastard in Mindy’s bathroom. I wasn’t the one flaking on meetings with the wedding planner every day. I behaved.”

“You appeared to, which is why I’m having trouble believing things went like you say.”

I shrugged. “Believe what you want. But you can at least admit my improvisation was on point. I mean, come on. That little fib I spun for the cameras was golden.”

“It would’ve been golden if Belle agreed to go along with it. If she’s only showing up here to have a witness when she kicks you in the balls, we’re more screwed than we were before.”

“Listen to the married man talking like he knows the first thing about getting screwed. You’d need a history book for that, wouldn’t you?”

Damon got a dangerous glint in his eye. “If I spoke to my brother about the sexual adventures Chelsea and I have…”

I waited, eyebrow raised, and stomach prepared to void its contents onto the table.

“We would be here all day,” he finished.

I snorted. “Disgusting. And Belle is going to come around. Just watch. She and I have a connection.”

Belle walked into the conference room without a word. She stopped in front of a chair at the far end of the table, glanced between the two of us, then sat. She was wearing a white and black pantsuit. It wasn’t exactly my style, but hey, all the more motivation to help her out of it later.

“Thanks for joining us,” Damon said.

Belle cleared her throat, not quite making eye contact as she spoke. “I’m ready to consider your offer.”

“The offer is already on the table. What’s to consider?” Damon asked.

“Maybe she wants to get put on the table herself?” I wondered aloud.

Belle’s jaw tightened. She took what appeared to be a calming breath, then continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “How much more you’re going to pay me for the part where you made a fool of me and misled me into thinking I was planning a real wedding.”

I put my hand to my mouth, covering a smile. Good hustle, Belle. I could fully enjoy her squeezing more money out of us, since my brother was footing the bill for everything related to the fake wedding experience.

“Another fifty thousand,” Damon said.

Belle, like a badass, just lifted her palm up higher.

“One hundred. Not a penny more.”

“I guess we’re done then,” Belle said, standing back up and heading for the door.

“Wait.” I could see how much it pained him to do it, but Damon knew what we all knew. We needed Belle. And because of the way I’d pitched the story to the cameras, she was the only one who could do this.

“One fifty, but you won’t get any of it until the marriage is official.”

Belle did a small, awkwardly adorable dance, then quickly calmed herself down. “I accept your offer.”

She made a sound in her throat, then fixed me with what I assumed was supposed to be a “this is just business” face. Her small hand was extended toward me.

With a grin, I took it and shook.

All business? Challenge accepted.

Belle - Chapter 13

Eighties music blasted from my Bluetooth speakers, the afternoon sun was flooding my apartment windows, and I was fully embracing the cliche by wearing a long, ratty t-shirt and panties