Chapter 13 – Pam

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Ben asked as if he was so innocent, it was the first real flaw in the man I had begun to consider a friend and my saving grace.

For a moment, I debated whether or not I should voice my concerns. I had a lot riding on this marriage and couldn’t really afford to jeopardize it because of my over-protective concerns. On the other hand, however, Jessica was my daughter and, like I had warned Ben last night, it was my job to do everything in my power to protect her.

I pulled in a lungful of air and grew a little taller in my spine as I met his questioning gaze with a firm and serious stare. “Because apparently, the warning I gave you yesterday didn’t stick as well as I hoped.”

Ben raised a questioning brow, and his lips pulled to one side in one of his cocky grins as he walked past me towards the dishes cabinet. Grabbing two plates, he asked, “Warning? What warning?”

“The one about staying the hell away from my twenty-two-year-old daughter,” I deadpanned.

He turned his eyes to me with an outrage that was so fake it was almost funny, but his gaze quickly drifted to the pizza boxes over the counter. “I’m not sure what you’re implying, but I don’t like it. Fake marriage or not, you’re still my wife, Pam. I would never be inappropriate to your daughter. Now, come choose what flavor you want. I’m starving.”

The casual way he lied was so insulting it made me angry. In fact, it made me livid, and as a result, my politeness vanished. No longer caring about my financial gain in this arrangement, I took a few steps towards my husband and came to a stop close enough to him that I could smell the clover notes of his cologne.

In a low and almost whispery voice, I said, “Don’t insult me, Benjamin. I saw the way you were all cozy to Jessica yesterday, and the pissing match with Trey just now was obvious. She’s a pretty and young woman, and you want her.”

At those words, Ben turned to look at me. His blue eyes were cold, and his expression was almost mocking.

“Are you jealous, honey?” he asked in the most offensive and condescending tone I had ever heard.

My nostrils flared with a new wave of anger, but I didn’t allow it to rile me enough to make me yell or slap him—though, he kind of deserved it. Instead, I stayed leveled and rolled my eyes.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I blurted out, allowing the disdain I felt for him to show. “I haven’t been into workaholic man-child since Jessica’s father. The only feelings I have for you are friendship and a weird sense of duty towards your dead father, but to be honest, you’re acting like such an ass that those feelings are fading fast.”

His eyes widened and a dangerous light shined on them. “I’m acting like an ass?” I nodded a reply, and, in an even darker tone, he replied. “You’re the one accusing me when all I did was help protect your daughter from a man you didn’t want her to go out with.”

Although his words sounded reasonable and very convincing, there was a nagging feeling in my gut that called it bullshit. Still, I reeled in my temper once more to avoid further drama and only said, “Okay, then. If that’s the case, then I owe you thanks. But please, keep in mind that though I want to be your friend and wife for the duration of our agreement, the only reason I accepted this crazy fake marriage thing was to give a better life to Jessica. If I suspect that you’re making a move on her, I’ll divorce your ass before you can say you’re sorry. She’s bright and special, and I won’t allow anyone or anything to stand in her way. Not even myself. Is that clear?”

Ben’s face didn’t lie, he was annoyed as hell at me and my threat. But I honestly didn’t give a crap about it. All I cared was that he eventually nodded and, in a dry and worried tone, said, “Crystal clear. Now, do you want some pizza?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” I replied, and he quickly placed a slice of fresh margarita pizza on my plate.

We sat at the kitchen table—an object Ben admitted not knowing existed in his home—and munched on the greasy goodness together. For the first few minutes, our interaction was stiff and awkward, but after a couple of slices and a bottle of beer each, things lightened up, and we went back to being friendly as we usually were.

For the rest of the night, we talked about things at his office, my application to the first-class international position and how much I didn’t need him to talk to his golfing buddy on my behalf. When Jessica finally returned home that night, Ben and I were still talking in the living room.

I was honestly relieved when he kissed me on the cheek and excused himself without so much as a glance in her direction. If this was going to work, then we all had to remember what was our part in this arrangement and I was happy and hopeful that Ben had—though reluctantly—remembered his.

For all our sake, I just really hoped he wouldn’t eventually forget.