I’m almost through the final revisions of the Treeper plan when my father strides into my office. “I need a moment,” he demands, pointing a finger at me.

“Please, have a seat,” I say dryly, motioning to the chair he’s just occupied. “How wonderful of you to drop by like this.”

I lean back and catch Kelsey’s eye. What? she mouths back with a shrug.

“You must be busy getting ready for tonight, Father. What do you need?”

“Your mother and I heard you’ve met someone.”

I grimace. Angelica must have spilled the beans. “I had hoped to tell you in person—”

“When, exactly?” my father interrupts. “Your two-week deadline passed days ago.”

“I’ve been busy, and I was waiting for the right time.”

“The right time,” he repeats. “When might that be?”

“Tonight. At your campaign announcement.”

My father shifts in his seat. “That’s rather public, don’t you think? You agreed to let us vet her, not thrust her on us during a high-profile dinner. What if we don’t like her? You didn’t think this through,” my father admonishes.

I smirk. You bet your ass I did.

“Well,” my father continues, “I don’t know what you’re up to, son, but if you bring a ridiculous airhead to my campaign dinner just to spite me—”

“Nothing like that, Father. I would never intentionally embarrass the family.”

My father narrows his eyes. “No. I would hope not.”

“And you will like her.” I pause. “You can’t vet love, Father,” I add quietly.

“Love? You actually like this woman?”

I tilt my head down, giving this sell my all.

“Oh.” My father blinks. “That’s surprising.”

I almost laugh. Just wait until you meet her.

“We were introduced at that Met event last month,” I explain. “She’s a fundraiser there.”

“A museum fundraiser?” he says, raising his eyebrows. “How…normal of you.”

I shrug. Exactly.

“Well,” my father says, getting to his feet, “I’ll see myself out.” He turns and walks to the door. “And don’t be late,” he says over his shoulder as he leaves.

I grunt. Can’t promise anything with whom I’m bringing. “Punctuality” isn’t a word in my girlfriend’s vocabulary.

* * *

I’m waiting outside Quinn’s rundown-looking apartment building in my tux. I’m sure I have another ten or fifteen minutes to wait until my girlfriend graces us with her presence.

But I’m wrong. The doors to the building open and deposit Quinn on the sidewalk. I do a double take. This is not the Quinn I’m expecting to see. She’s wearing a shimmery strapless sheath dress that grazes the ground as she walks. Its emerald-green color matches her eyes and sets off her dark locks. I swear she’s done something different with her hair and makeup tonight, but I can’t put my finger on it.

The result takes my breath away. In fact, I can’t seem to breathe. She looks beautiful, more beautiful than a woman had any right to look.

“You look—different,” I stumble out. I can’t tear my eyes away from her.

“Different good or different bad?” she asks, stopping in front of me.

“Different good. Definitely good.”

Pink splotches dot her cheeks. “Oh. Thanks.” Quinn looks away, breaking her spell over me.

“So, um…” I say, clearing my throat. I glance down at my watch—anything to avoid looking at her. “It’s six thirty.”

Her cherry-red lips break out into a pleased smile. “On the dot!”

“Good,” I say, opening the car door for Quinn. “Because we can’t be late. My father made that clear this morning.”

“Your father stopped by work?” Quinn asks.

“He found out about us and wanted to have his say. He’s looking forward to meeting you.”

Quinn frowns. “I wish I could say the same.”

“I’ve told you before that you have nothing to worry about. You’ll be fine, East.”

“East?” Quinn asks, the corners of her mouth twitching into a smile. “That’s the second time you’ve called me that.”

I shrug. “So I’ve finally settled on a nickname, what’s the big deal?”

“Not a big deal,” she soothes, “I’ve just never been called that before.”

“Does it bother you?”

“No,” she says after a moment. “I like it. Sounds like we’re partners; in this together.”

I grunt. She’s right about that. I told Quinn that she has nothing to fear, but I’m not one hundred percent sure that’s true. Quinn is nothing like Tessa, the first and only girl I’d ever brought home to meet my parents.

I smile to myself. In my opinion, that’s a huge point in Quinn’s favor.

“Who’s going to be there tonight?” Quinn asks. I can tell by the way her mouth sets that she’s slipping into event mode.

“My mother and father, Dalton and Faith, and then a handful of other people who are either close to the family or on my father’s campaign. I meant to have Kelsey get me a list, but I got busy.”

Quinn nods. “Anything I should know beforehand?”

I lean back into the seat as the car zooms up Fifth Avenue. “You have nothing to worry about with Faith and Dalton—oh, Faith is pregnant, by the way. My mother is French, so expect to be kissed a lot. My father will be kind but probing. He’ll want to make sure you’re not a threat to his campaign.”

“But they know I’m fake, right?”

I glance out the window. “No. I told my father we’re in love.”

“What?” Quinn demands. “Why?”

“He wouldn’t like the idea. If I told my father the truth, he’d scrutinize our every movement or try to control us. He’d never relax around you or trust you. In fact, I doubt he’d even approve of you.”

“Why?”

“My parents have a particular woman in mind for their son, remember?”

“Right,” Quinn says sheepishly. “Is she really that terrible?”

“You could say we have a rocky history.”

“How come your parents want to you to date someone you don’t like?”

“I never told them what happened because it’s none of their business,” I say, growing irritable. I hate it that even talking about Tessa still has this effect on me.

I run a hand over my hair and take a deep breath. “Suffice it to say, I don’t want to be stuck with her.”

“I don’t blame you,” Quinn says.

I give her my most irksome smile. “I’d rather be stuck with you, East.”

Quinn makes a face at me. “Thanks, darling. Well, I won’t let you down. Or at least, I’ll try not to,” she adds.

“Just follow my lead, and we’ll get through this alive,” I say as the car comes to a stop outside my parents’ four-story brownstone. Every window is gleaming with light, and I can see guests chatting together in the front parlor room—I’m not joking, my parents really have a parlor room.

“‘Follow my lead’ didn’t work so well for us last time,” Quinn reminds me, throwing open her door. She twists in her seat for a moment before finally planting her feet on the ground. “This stupid gown…”

“Here, let me.”

“I’m fine,” she says, throwing off my hand.

“Quinn—” I argue, but she won’t listen. I throw open my door and walk around to her side. “Let me help you.”

She waves me away. “No, thanks.”

I lean in and take her elbow. “I’m just trying to be helpful—”

“I’ve got it, Archer,” Quinn says with annoyance, standing up and wrenching her arm from my grasp in one swift movement.

“Quinn!” I reach out, but she’s already heading for the ground. Quinn throws out her arms for balance, but her long gown wraps around her legs and she crashes onto her knees.

I turn as light pours onto the sidewalk behind me. My mother and father are standing on the front steps, gaping down at us. A throng of guests mingles behind them.

“Dammit,” I mutter. I crouch down and scoop my girlfriend off the pavement. “Are you alright?”

I notice a rip in her dress from the hem up to her right knee as she straightens. “Your dress is torn.”

“It’s not mine,” she snaps, checking out the damage. “You bought it.”

I stare at her in disbelief. “Are you—”

“Archer, is she alright?” my father asks.

I wave my hand at him. “Are you angry with me? I was only trying to help, Quinn.”

“I’ve been getting out of cars all my life without the assistance of males.” She pulls her arm away from me and starts up the stairs toward my parents.

“You don’t have to be such a feminazi!” I hiss, catching up to her.

She whirls around to face me. “Just…don’t, Archer.” I can see tears in her eyes.

“Archie?” my mother calls from the stairs.

“One second, Mother,” I answer. I turn back to Quinn. “Look, that was bad back there, but shrug it off. No one saw it.”

“I just face-planted in front of your parents,” she whispers. “I’m supposed to look poised enough to take on the media, but now I look like a klutz!”

Her bottom lip begins to tremble. My heart clenches at her pain.

“So you did, who cares?” I say. “You’re human—a maddening, very headstrong human.”

Quinn rolls her eyes. “You’re impossible,” she says, sounding a little more like herself.

“The worst is over. Now you can go in there and make your best impression. Okay?”

She glances at her feet before meeting my eyes. “Okay. But only if you do.”

I sigh, link her arm in mine, and lead her up the stairs. “Won’t even let a gentleman help you out of a damn car…”

“Gentleman?” Quinn repeats. “Oh, you’re talking about yourself.”

A smile tugs at my lips. “You drive me up the wall, East,” I murmur before stopping in front of my parents. “Mother, Father, I’d like you to meet Quinn East. Quinn, my parents, Heath and Claudette.”

In spite of her ripped dress and rough entrance, Quinn puts a winning smile on her face and sticks out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Stratton.”

“My dear,” my mother cries, taking her hand, “are you alright? That looked like a nasty tumble.”

Quinn’s cheeks turn pink. “I’m fine, though my ego is a bit bruised.”

“I hate these long dresses,” my mother says, patting Quinn’s arm. “They always make things impossibly hard.”

“I know,” Quinn says, laughing. “I’m afraid I’ve ruined it, too, and the night’s barely begun.”

“Never mind that. I’ll have my seamstress fix it for you.” She turns to me. “Have it dropped it off at Frederick’s tomorrow morning, Archie.”

I raise my eyebrows. My mother likes Quinn if she was offering up Frederick. “Of course, Mother.”

My father speaks up. “Shall we step inside?” he asks. His eyes are on Quinn, scrutinizing her, judging her. I wrap an arm around Quinn’s waist, his attention making me strangely protective.

We’re barely inside the door before Dalton and Faith appear. The timing is so precise that I wonder if they were waiting for us. Then Dalton opens his mouth, and I know I’m right.

“Archer, I can’t wait to meet your special lady!” he booms, bringing me in for a hug. He steps back and turns to Quinn with a huge smile. “Dalton Stratton, at your service, and this is my lovely wife, Faith.”

Quinn takes his hand. “So nice to meet you both. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

My mother cuts in. “Your father and I need to return to our guests, but we’ll leave you to get acquainted.” She leans in to Quinn. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Stratton—”

“Call me Claudette,” she says.

That was fast. It took Tessa months to get permission.

“Thank you,” Quinn says as my mother moves away. Quinn turns to Faith, “Archer tells me congratulations are in order…? When are you due?”

Faith smiles up at her beaming husband. “January second. It feels so far away, but it’ll be here before we know it.”

“This will be a summer of life events,” Quinn says. “My friend is getting married in September and I’m the maid of honor.”

“That’s wonderful!” Faith gushes. “Wow, you’re going to have a busy summer.”

“I know,” Quinn says. “All on top of work, too.”

“Where do you work?” Dalton asks.

“The Met. I work in development—fundraising.”

“It’s how we met, actually,” I cut in. “Quinn was working at the wing reveal last month, and we got to talking. I asked her out a week later—”

“And in a lapse in judgement, I said yes,” Quinn finishes for me, winking at Dalton and Faith.

“I bet,” Dalton says, snickering. “My brother is a wild one. You must be quite the lady to tie him down.”

“We thought he’d never find someone,” Faith chimes in.

I clear my throat. “I’m standing right here.”

“I think I can handle him,” Quinn says, giving me sly look. “Besides, who says I’m not a handful?”

Dalton throws his head back and laughs. “Oh boy, Archer, what have you gotten yourself into?”

You have no idea.

“That’s what I love about East,” I say. “Her dry humor and acerbic wit…” I grab her hand and tug her into my arms. “That, and she’s gorgeous.”

I gaze into her eyes, holding her captive. Her voluptuous body is soft in my arms, molding itself to my chest like she was made for me. Fake relationship or not, Quinn East is an attractive woman.

Quinn catches her breath and wrenches her eyes from mine. She turns her face away, and I see a blush creeping up her neck.

“I think I’ll go grab us some drinks,” Quinn rasps, pushing me back. “No, stay here,” she says when I try to follow.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

Quinn gives a quick nod. “Talk with your brother and Faith. I’ll be right back, honey buns,” she says, flashing me that sarcastic smile I’ve come to know so well.

I watch her move off until she disappears down the hall. Why do I feel so lost without her?

“Honey buns?” Dalton snorts. “You two are adorable, bro.”

I frown. “I really like her. Is that a crime?”

“No, not at all,” Dalton hurries to say. “I’m happy for you.”

“Me too,” Faith adds. “I think she’ll keep you on your toes, Archie.”

I grunt. That’s the truth. “Well, I should go find her—save her from all the people Mother’s introducing her to,” I say, moving toward the door. Why do I want her by my side?

Dalton nods. “We’ll catch up later. I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, won’t we? Going to be a busy year.”

“That it is,” I reply under my breath before turning the corner.

I scan the parlor room, looking for Quinn. By now, most of the guests have moved into the dining room for dinner and Father’s announcement, so she’s not hard to find. She’s talking with my father by the bar, and I can tell by the tilt of her head and my father’s stern face, that it’s “the talk.”

I pick up my pace, afraid I may already be too late. I had never intended for my father to corner my girlfriend; I had always meant to be there, by Quinn’s side, shielding her from the questions I knew he’d ask.

Who are your parents? Where are you from? Who do you know? Stupid questions that had nothing to do with love and everything to do with image.

I reach them right as my father roars with laughter. The sight stops me in my tracks.

“You don’t say?” my father gasps, holding his side. “You know, I always thought Peter’s impeccable coif was a toupee!”

Quinn looks to the side and notices me standing there. “Archer, is it time for dinner?” she asks.

I shake my head after a few seconds. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.” I turn to my father. “I hope you’re behaving yourself with my girlfriend. I see you’ve stolen her away.”

My father wipes his eyes. “Oh we’ve been having a great time. Did you know Peter has a toupee?”

I glance at Quinn, who’s trying not to laugh. “I gathered as much.”

“I just can’t believe it…” My father sighs, and shakes his head. “We were just chatting about Quinn’s job and how you two met. Seems you’ve had a whirlwind romance.”

“I was telling Mr. Stratton that—”

“Heath, dear,” he interrupts.

Heath?

Quinn smiles. “I was telling Heath how happy I am that he sent you in his place that night. If he hadn’t been called away, then I never would have met you.”

She steps toward me, nuzzling her head into my shoulder. I can’t help but dip my head down, her soft hair brushing my chin and lips. The sweet scent of her perfume fills my nostrils, and I close my eyes and drift into it.

I realize where I am, who I’m holding, and that we have an audience. I open my eyes to find my father’s gaze on my face. Studying. Searching.

“Well…” he says, smiling softly. “I think you two are a good pair.” He turns to Quinn. “Has Archer mentioned why we’re here tonight?”

Quinn nods. “He did, and I think you’ll be the most devoted mayor this city’s ever seen.”

My father tries to wave off the compliment, but Quinn doesn’t let him.

“Heath,” she says, “in the seven years I’ve been with The Met, I’ve witnessed the monumental things you’ve helped accomplish. Think of the thousands of schoolchildren that come to the museum on your dime. Think of the precious works of art that are on display instead of rotting in our vault because of your generosity. You have faith in us, and we have in you.”

Quinn lays her hand on my father’s arm. “I’d vote for you—even if I wasn’t dating your son,” she adds with a puckish grin.

Silence descends over the three of us.

“My dear, you should write my campaign speeches!” my father bursts out, drawing himself up.

He turns to me and speaks, but I don’t hear him. I’m still staring at Quinn. I’m transfixed. I can’t fucking breathe.

I’m sure he’ll pull me aside later tonight and tell me he and my mother approve of my choice. That Quinn’s “campaign material,” or some shit like that. But I don’t need their approval anymore.

I already know, without a doubt, that Quinn East is going to kill it as my campaign girlfriend.