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Brianna
I ’m in his penthouse. I’m fake engaged. I’m a millionaire.
I can’t decide which of these is more insane. Of course, I’m not a millionaire yet. But as long as I uphold my end of the bargain, I’ll be one million dollars richer in a year. In the meantime, I have to live with Michael Parsons and pretend he’s my fiancé.
And today, we’re telling his parents.
A knock sounds on my bedroom door and I jump away from the mirror. Michael is waiting for me, but I’m so nervous I’m not sure I can do this.
“Are you ready?” he asks.
“Uh…” I take another peek in the mirror. I don’t look like myself. I don’t feel like myself either.
But that’s the point, right? I’d made a decision—this one just for myself. To get my career on its feet, to stop playing it safe. To do something other than wait for my life to happen.
I open the door and give him a smile. “I’m ready.”
He presses a hand to his chest. “Damn.”
My cheeks heat. It’s just a dress—a dress he asked me to wear. But I feel wonderful in it. I do a spin to distract myself. “You like?”
“I love.”
He reaches out and pulls me into his arms before I can blink.
“Michael,” I say, surprised. “I…”
“We’re supposed to be in love. We have to make it look real.” When I don’t seem to look convinced, he angles his head at me. “You signed the papers.”
I did. And I know this is part of it. But that’s supposed to be in front of people, not in his home.
“Clearly we need practice,” he murmurs, leaning in to brush his lips on my jaw. I shiver. “Pretend with me.”
I lift my chin. I stare into his eyes. They’re hypnotic. I’d probably agree to anything right now.
Then he lowers his head and brushes his mouth against mine. Once, twice, and just as my lips part, the elevator doors ding.
I straighten. He curses.
Then he grins. “Saved by the bell.”
He eased back but keeps my hand in his. “Damn, you’re not too bad at pretending.”
My legs are shaking. “Neither are you.”
We meet his parents at the elevator, and it’s like a whirlwind whooshes into the room. Michael’s mom envelopes me in a hug and her high-pitched squeal could have reached dogs’ ears a mile away. I like her immediately.
“You know,” she says conspiratorially, “Michael has never introduced us to a girlfriend before. Not even when he was living at home.”
I glance at Michael and grin when he rolls his eyes. Part of me feels awkward lying to his parents, but the other part figures I’m doing him—and them—a favor. If him having a girlfriend—and fiancée—makes them that happy, then I don’t mind helping.
She links her arm through mine, and we walk out to the terrace, the skirt of my short dress swishing around my legs.
“You are just divine,” she says.
I glance over my shoulder to make sure Michael is following me. He can’t leave me alone with her. What if I say something wrong? What if our stories don’t match? We came up with a plan, but still…he’s got the confidence to pull it off. I don’t.
He looks amused, but he follows us outside, where there’s already someone prepped to make drinks.
Is this what my life is going to be like now? And for the next year? Having someone at my beck and call?
I can’t tell whether it’s going to be wonderful or irritating, but I know it’ll be an adventure.
“So,” Mr. Parsons says, “tell us how you met.”
My throat dries. I glance at Michael. He leans against the back of an outdoor couch where his dad is sitting. “We met in a bar.”
I gape at him. He’s not going to tell the truth, is he?
“A terrible, dumpy bar that I know for a fact is one of Brianna’s favorites.”
It is. And how does he know that?
Mrs. Parsons’s nose scrunches up. “A bar? Michael—were you seriously trying to find a girlfriend in a bar?” She looks at me with a roll of her eyes. “No offense to you at all. You’re lovely. Michael just has a strange way of spending his downtime.”
“I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend in a bar.” Michael walks to me and sets his hands on my shoulders, giving them a squeeze. “But that’s where I found her. Kind of like it was meant to be.”
I fight another shiver. His words hit me right in my core, right in that place that needs to belong—that needs to be needed. Chet never said things to me like that. But Chet wasn’t the most romantic man in the world.
He’d tell me he loved me, but then he’d follow it up with something like, “Of course I love you. You know that right?” Almost like he was trying to convince me. Or maybe…maybe he was trying to convince himself.
I try to get back on my game. I’m playing a part here, just like Michael.
“I don’t typically pick up men in bars either,” I tell Mr. and Mrs. Parsons with a grin. “Just in case you’re wondering.”
Mrs. Parsons sets her hand on mine. “Dear, you look way too classy for that. And too sweet. Tell me about yourself.”
I tell her about my inspiration to become a graphic designer, and how I love art and all things creative. I tell her about my job at the coffee shop, which seems to surprise her but not offend her, and how it keeps me grounded.
“I like that,” she says. “Nothing wrong with a little hard labor here and there—and it’s good to keep in touch with the people.”
“Also,” Michael says with a grin, “it’s a good indicator that you’re not after my money.”
I reach out and smack his arm, finding it much easier to play the part of the dutiful fiancée than I thought. Michael makes it easy, and so do his parents. I take my hand back and chide myself internally. I can’t get too caught up in this game. It’s not real. And it’s only for a year. If I let myself believe this is really my life, then it’ll be a huge letdown next year when I have to go back to the real world. Alone.
But, I remind myself, I’ll be one million dollars richer. That should placate me, but one million dollars won’t take away the loneliness.
Michael holds out his hand. “Would you like to help me with the drinks?”
I set my hand in his and stand. He pulls me to the table where champagne flutes are already being set out.
He leans in so his breath touches my ear. “You didn’t tell me you work at the coffee shop.”
“Because I barely work there,” I say as chills race up my arms. “I had planned on quitting after the wedding but then I needed the money.”
“You don’t have to stay.”
I turn my head to lock eyes with him. Our mouths are only inches away from each other’s. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you live with me now. You can take this time to follow your dream. You don’t have to work at the coffee shop.”
“But then people really will think I’m after your money.” And isn’t that the truth anyway? I’m with him because of money. But he doesn’t look at me like that. He’s looking at me like we’re on a date. Like we’re a couple. Like we’re happy.
“I don’t care what people think,” Michael says. “Except, we should probably spend more time together. Learn more about each other.”
“I’d like that.”
He leans in and kisses me softly on the mouth. And when I don’t pull away, he skims his tongue just briefly on my bottom lip, sending a jolt of electricity through me. Making need bloom inside.
Space. I have to keep some space. This could be dangerous, getting too close. Letting myself believe this is real.
I step back, fully aware his parents are watching us. And they seem to approve.
It’s part of the ruse. Keep it up.
So I take Michael’s hand and give it a little tug. “Are you ready for this?”
He pats his pocket. “I even got the ring.”
My heart clutches. The ring. That’s right. I’m supposed to be wearing a ring.
“Don’t worry,” he says, “I’m sure you’ll love it.”
I release a breath. I’m not worried about loving the ring. I’m worried about not hating it. Or not being indifferent.
Danger! Danger!
My heart keeps screaming at me, but my head overrules it. It’s business. This is a job. That’s all.
I walk with Michael back to his parents and put on a smile. Time to tell them we’re engaged.