Sam watched as a gleaming white Mercedes pulled into her driveway at six o’clock sharp. She was more nervous than if this had been a real date. Snap out of it! This is just a job. A totally crazy job, but still a job.

She watched Connor step out of the car in an impeccable bespoke suit. He was unnervingly handsome, but such an ass. Well, look at him. I guess he’s earned it.

He carried an envelope in one hand and jogged up the steps of her little clapboard duplex. “Hey,” she said, opening the door. “You’re right on time.”

Connor let his eyes graze over her, unflinching. “And you look presentable enough to meet my family, I suppose.”

She blushed and bit her lip. If he only knew it had taken her two hours to pick her outfit. She’d finally gone with a slim-fitting, tailored business suit with a silky violet blouse underneath. The jacket flared out in a nearly peplum fashion.

“This is for you,” he said, handing her the documents. “You can sign them later if you like, at the end of the month.”

She took the documents, and suddenly the whole thing felt real. Can I really do this? she wondered. The money was good. Really good. But maybe she needed to consider the whole too good to be true warning here.

“And this,” he said, pulling that telltale turquoise ring box out of his pocket. “Size five and a half.”

Her mouth dropped open. In lieu of a traditional diamond, it was a massive sapphire with clusters of diamond accents. “It’s…”

“It’s on loan for now,” he said. “I’ll need it back at the end of the night. Now. Let’s get going.”

He held the door open for her, acting the part of the gentleman. I guess we’re both acting.

All day long, she couldn’t get over it. Sam couldn’t believe he’d had the nerve to propose such an incredible ploy to her—and she was even more surprised that she’d said yes. She sneaked another look at him. He looked good, she had to admit. Every time she saw him, he looked better and better. Why me?

She couldn’t help but stare at the ring on the way to dinner. It fit perfectly.

“It’s like Princess Diana’s,” he told her. She blushed when she realized she’d been caught admiring it.

“It’s gorgeous,” she said.

“Sandra had demanded a so-called traditional diamond, even after I’d explained to her about the blood diamond industry, how De Beers made up the whole a diamond is forever thing, and all. But I realized when I was at Tiffany’s I’d never described her ring to my family. I figured I’d choose a ring I actually thought was beautiful enough for the girl wearing it.”

Sam flushed a deeper red. “So, uh, where are we going for dinner?”

“Pineapple and Pearls,” he said, speeding up on the highway.

“Seriously?” She was shocked. Sam had been to the upscale venue with clients before, but that was to look at spaces—not for dinner herself. It had taken all her professional gumption to not look shocked at the price tag when she was with clients.

“You don’t like it?” he asked.

She looked at him quizzically. Was he being serious or making fun of her?

“So, let me fill you in on the family,” he said. “My mom is harmless. She might get emotional though, fair warning. Let’s hope she took her Zoloft today. My brother, Sean, is a little shit. I guarantee you he’ll drink too much at dinner and might hit on you. But basically he’s harmless.”

“Good to know,” she said, nervously pushing at the ring with her thumb.

“And my dad is just a royal asshole. He’s… well, you’ll see. But I’m guessing he’ll be directing it at me, not you. So don’t worry too much.”

“You sure know how to put a girl at ease,” she said.

His phone buzzed. “Fuck,” he said, glancing at it.

“What?”

“Change of plans. Dinner at my parents’ place.”

“What? Why?” The idea of such an intimate surrounding threw her.

“Honestly, my father was probably always planning this. He likes to throw a wrench in things and see how I react.”

When they pulled up to the imposing house with the impeccable lawn, Sam could hardly believe it. A fleet of Audis were in the driveway. You can do this. Put on your movie star charm, she told herself.

“Ready?”

“There they are!” his mom called cheerily when he ushered Sam inside. “Sandra, sweetheart, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Let me see that ring. Oh, it’s gorgeous, Connor! But why not a diam—”

“Actually, it’s Sam,” Connor corrected his mother.

“Pardon me?”

“She goes by Sam.”

“Oh, my mistake. Would you like some Prosecco, dear?”

“Yes, Mrs. Harris, thank you,” Sam said, shining her megawatt smile at the plump older woman with perfectly coiffed silver hair.

“Not bad,” Sean said, walking into the room with a beer in hand.

“Sam, this is my brother, Sean,” Connor said as he shrugged out of his jacket.

“You got any sisters? Although I’m guessing any younger than you would be jailbait,” Sean said as he eyed her.

“Don’t you have a video game to play or something?” Connor asked as he waved Sean away.

“Where’s your dad?” she whispered to him.

“He likes to make a grand entrance,” Connor told her as he began to craft his scotch on the rocks at the bronze cocktail table.

“Come, dear,” Mrs. Harris said. She handed Sam a flute of sparkling wine and took her elbow. “Dinner’s about to be served, and Mr. Harris is dying to meet you.”

Sam raised her brow at Connor and allowed his mother to steer her into the formal dining room. The focal point was the massive oak table with a buffet and china display lining the walls. Wainscoting met with gold-leaf wallpaper and the soaring ceiling was trimmed in intricate crown molding. Hanging above the table was a huge crystal chandelier.

From the gorgeous flower arrangements to the carefully displayed china and gilded flatware, it looked like something out of a fairy tale. “This is beautiful,” she told Mrs. Harris. “A Christofle flatware set, incredible.”

“You know your table settings,” Mrs. Harris said, impressed. “Here, sit by me.”

“I’m an event manager for luxury clients,” Sam said. She waited until Mrs. Harris sat before following suit, and the woman smiled at her knowingly.

Connor took the seat on the other side of Sam.

“Good job with this one,” Mrs. Harris told him as she nodded at Sam. “Beautiful and educated.”

“So, we finally get to meet the famous fiancée.” Mr. Harris burst into the room like a storm. Tall and foreboding with a balding head and thick mustache to make up for it, Sam was used to men like him. They were the type who pinched her ass in meetings and stared at her chest without reserve.

“Mr. Harris,” she said as he walked toward her. She stood and offered her hand. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you.”

He grunted, but took her hand reluctantly. “Well, I can see how you caught my son’s eye,” he said as he traced her curves with his eyes. “Sit, sit. Don’t stand on my behalf.”

Sean sulked in late and made a racket as he scraped his chair against the hardwood. “Sean, please,” Mrs. Harris said.

“So, Sandra—”

“Sam,” Mrs. Harris corrected.

“Oh, Sam now, is it?” he asked with a cocked brow. “Sam, tell me. What is it your parents do?”

“My parents?” she asked. “Well, uh, my father passed away—”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” he said.

“Thank you, but it was a long time ago. My mother, she does a lot of volunteer work.” Sam figured that sounded better than saying she was a grant writer for a small nonprofit. Connor smiled at her.

“That’s good!” Mr. Harris said. “We have a strong philanthropy arm at Trezor ourselves. Any siblings?”

“Father!” Connor said as one of the servants set down plates with a single spoon of soup topped with caviar before Sam and his family.

“Just the amuse-bouche, dear,” Mrs. Harris said to her. “Don’t worry, we’re not planning to starve you.”

Mr. Harris swallowed the spoon in one bite. “And where did you go to university? Grad school?”

“Sam actually studied abroad, in a little private college outside Stratford-upon-Avon,” Connor said. She looked at him curiously. She had?

“Doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love,” Mr. Harris said. “Shakespeare,” he told the table. “But I’m guessing Sam already knew that. So, Sam. How long after the wedding do you suppose you’ll be giving me a grandchild?”

She nearly spit out the hundred-dollar mouthful. From the corner of her eye, she saw Connor’s jaw twitch in nervousness.

“Enough with the interrogations,” Connor said. “Give her a little space.” She felt his hand on her thigh and he squeezed. When she looked at him, questioning, he winked at her.

“Settle down, Connor, I have a right to ask these questions,” Mr. Harris said. Sam narrowed her eyes and looked at him. She’d been around men like him all her life. Pushy, arrogant, thinking they owned the world and everyone in it.

“No, Sam doesn’t have to answer such personal, assaulting questions,” Connor said. He nodded to the servant to take his plate away. The tiny platters were replaced with salad dishes of chard, beets and goat cheese.

“Assaulting? I don’t—”

“I’d like them sooner rather than later,” Sam said sweetly, taking a sip of her Prosecco.

Connor looked surprised, but wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Would you like a copy of her fertility planner?” he asked his father mockingly.

“Connor!” Sam said. She surprised even herself at her admonishment. “I apologize,” she said to the Harris’. “Connor and I are just figuring out the timing right now. That’s all.”

“Back in my day we didn’t need planners and timers to get our wives pregnant. Something wrong in the sack?” his father asked, looking from Sam to Connor.

“You know what? I think that’s our cue to leave,” Connor said. He stood up from the table and pulled Sam up with him.

“Oh, honey, don’t go,” his mom started.

Connor held up his hand. “I think we’ve had enough. Thanks for trying, Mom.”

“I’m sorry about that. About the whole shitty lot of them,” Connor said as he turned the ignition.

“It’s alright! It’s fine. It’s not the first time I’ve dealt with a man like your father,” she said.

Connor sighed as he backed onto the road. “Still, it could have gone much worse.”

Really? It could have been worse than that? she thought.

“You know what? I think this is going to be a good fit for me. I do.”

Sam sat quietly. She toyed with the ring and pulled it on and off her finger. If was his idea of a successful dinner and a good fit, what was his idea of a failure? Maybe this whole thing was too insane after all.

“I have certain expectations of my fiancée. It’s outlined in the contract,” he said as he drove her home. “The way you look, the way you behave, it’s all critical. I’ll let it slide that you raised your voice at me tonight—”

She frowned. “Did you have such expectations of your real fiancée?”

His brow furrowed. “Of course I did. And may I say, that while your outfit tonight might be good enough for work, it’s definitely… wanting, if you know what I mean.”

“What’s wrong with it?” she asked, looking down.

“Appearances are everything in my world, Sam. You being hot isn’t enough. Maybe that was my fault. I’ll connect you with my personal shopper and tailor tomorrow.”

She didn’t say anything else. Connor seemed satisfied with the conversation. “Ring?” he asked as he pulled up to her house.

She slipped it off and handed it to him. Connor put it back in the box and tossed it in the glove compartment. “Well, thanks for—” she began.

“I’d love to stay and chat, but I have a date,” he said.

“Oh! Of course. Well, bye.”

“I’ll be in touch,” he said. He didn’t drive off until she was inside.

What the hell was that? She wondered if she’d bit off more than she could chew.