"Did I hear you right?" Leah says. "You want me to be your what?"

"My fake fiancée."

I can barely hear the words coming out of my own mouth. There's a roaring sound in my ears like a waterfall. I've never seen a girl with such perky fucking tits, with such perfect, pink, tiny nipples and delicious curves.

Yet, she's sitting right in front of me, and there's a topless picture of her on my phone. I wanted to get her clothes off before, but now that I've seen the digital version of her naked, I'm absolutely dying to compare it to the real-life version. In person.

Leah Price feels like the complete package to me. I can't help wondering if I'm completely fucking things up with this fake engagement idea. But there's no way I could have asked any other woman to agree to this. I don't want to lose my relationship with Leah. She's someone I can actually see fitting into my life in a serious way. If I got engaged to another woman, it would be the quickest way to never see Leah again.

So I have to risk this, as crazy as it is.

Leah's jaw drops as she processes what I just said to her. "I don't get it."

"This is about the merger between my company and McMaster."

"I don't understand," Leah says. "Why do you need a fiancée for that? And a fake one? I've never heard of anything like that before."

"Listen. The CEO of McMaster, Rex LaPrise, is married. And there's nothing more that the good old boys club likes to see, than a committed man. It's the only way I'll convince them to pick me over Rex."

Leah looks suspicious. "I'm sure you have plenty of women who'd get engaged to you at the drop of a hat."

"Yes. But they all want to take my money away from me. Or get something else out of me."

"Maybe it's worth the gamble," she says tentatively. "Prenups exist for a reason, you know. I'm sure you can find somebody a lot more suitable for this plan than me."

"I'm not playing games with you, Leah. I know it sounds crazy. But I have to do this, and I'd prefer to do it with you. Because if I get engaged to another woman, then I won't be able to see you anymore. And I don't know if I can handle that."

She chews her lip, thinking about the implications.

"Well," she says, "You said it was a business deal. So what do I get out of it?"

Stretching, I stand up and lean against my desk. "I knew you'd ask that sooner or later."

"Right," she says. "I don't care about material things. And you know that I don't want a bribe related to work. So what's in it for me?"

"Leah," I say. "I want you to listen carefully. Hear me out completely before you respond."

She cocks an eyebrow.

"I've been reading extensively about the form of cancer your father has. There's a treatment that has nearly a 100 percent cure rate. But it's expensive. Extremely expensive."

She turns red and starts to look angry. "I know what you're talking about. That novel chemotherapy drug only made in Europe."

"Correct."

"Wait… are you trying to coerce me?" she says, and it suddenly looks like she might cry. "You're seriously going to use my father's life as a bargaining chip to convince me to get engaged to you? I can't believe you." She looks down and shakes her head.

I grit my teeth. "Leah, I asked you to let me explain myself and not to jump to any conclusions."

Her eyes look watery and puffy. "Fine," she says. "Whatever. Say whatever."

The muscles in my neck tighten and I shake my head. "It's not like that. Listen. When I say this treatment is expensive, I mean expensive."

"I know it is. The doctors said it's impossible to get for most people."

"Leah, do you know exactly how expensive it really is?"

She pauses, then shakes her head. "No. I guess I don't."

"A full course costs over a billion dollars. It's manufactured from an extremely rare substance and they can only make one or two doses a year. Supply and demand."

"That's completely crazy," she says, her eyes wide. "But Luke. You are a billionaire. If you really wanted my dad to have this treatment, you could just offer it without trying to get something out of me."

"I may be a billionaire," I say. "But that doesn't mean I have a billion fucking dollars in cash just laying around in the bank. A few hundred million, yes. But I'm not Bill Gates or Warren Buffet. I'd have to liquidate every single asset I have in order to afford that treatment now. If I could afford it now, your dad would absolutely already be receiving it."

"Okay… so how does getting fake engaged solve that problem?"

"Listen," I say. "If I'm selected to be the CEO of this new company, then between all the cash bonuses, the stock options, and the perks, I'll be able to pay for your dad's treatment. And I'll get to keep my company."

Leah's tears start to dry up as she thinks about it. "So what you're saying is that it's a win-win for both of us."

"Right. I become CEO of the new company, and I'll be able to raise the cash for your dad to receive this treatment. And we can keep seeing each other. The engagement will be in name only. Nothing has to change between us. It's not like it's real."

But deep down inside, I suspect that it's going to feel pretty fucking real, with the way I feel about Leah.

"This is crazy," she says. "I never accept anything from anybody. Not even chicken wings. But now you're offering me one of the most expensive gifts imaginable... and it just might be the one situation where I can't say no."

"It's up to you," I say. "Let's help each other."

"But why me? Why not one of your other women?"

"Because I trust you. Because you're important to me. Because I don't want to lose you."

"You realize that if I agree to this, which would be crazy, it would be a total conflict of interest. A writer and a publisher CEO. People in this company do know who I am, Luke."

"Yes," I say. "A handful of people. Mostly the editorial team. Your name isn't all over the company yet since you haven't published any books. I'll have to pay a few people off. But it'll be worth it."

She shakes her head. "This is so crazy," she says. "I don't even know what to say right now. This is real life, not some game."

She's not wrong. This is pretty crazy. After all, there are millions of plain girls in this country who would do exactly what I need in order to pull this off. No billion-dollar cancer treatment or emotions involved.

But I haven't felt this way about anyone, ever. I don't care what it takes. It's not just because I want to spend every night getting to know her body, and how all her parts taste. It's not just that I want to trace my lips over every inch of her skin, and taste each one of the beautiful freckles on her radiant, perfect skin.

No. It's all that, but it's also everything about who she is as a person. I think I love her, but I can't say that now. Not when all of this is on the line.

There's only one way to keep everything I want, and it involves making Leah Price my fake fiancée.

"Think about it," I say. "We can talk about the specific terms and conditions all you like."

"You're right. I do need to think about this," she says, standing up. "I have to go. I'll get back to you."

"Very well," I say. She turns and leaves my office.

I can't help wondering if I'm going to ever see her again.

* * *

The next morning, the first thing I do is check my phone for texts or calls from Leah. But there's nothing. Just a couple texts from my assistant and a massive list of business emails in my Gmail app.

Ever since I achieved my success, I've practically had to beat women off my back. And yet the one time I actually need a fiancée, the woman I want is the one woman who can't be easily persuaded.

But I can't sit around feeling sorry for myself. The office is getting busier than ever with the merger approaching. And whether or not it's Leah, I have to find a fiancée.

After showering and doing 300 crunches and 100 pull-ups in the personal gymnasium located in the east wing of my house, I shower and text my assistant, ordering a car to take me into work.

When I swing open the heavy wooden front doors of my mansion, I can hardly believe my eyes.

The rising sun sits in the background, illuminating the cityscape on the horizon. Thin cirrus clouds streak over the morning sky, and birds' chirping echoes over my rich, lush, property.

And the craziest thing of all, is that Leah Price stands right on my porch. She's wearing sweatpants that hug her delicious thighs, and a loose-fitting t-shirt that looks like she slept in it. She looks absolutely beautiful.

Next to her sit two suitcases. One large rolling black one, and a smaller handbag in which I see a zipper bag of toiletries and other personal items.

"Leah," I say, almost stuttering. I fight to regain my composure. I'm used to dealing with unexpected situations all the time—hell, that's how I took Diamond House to the top of the publishing world. By taking everything in stride and not being afraid of the unknown and the unexpected.

But nothing could have prepared me to see this gorgeous, sweet girl standing on my front patio.

"Leah," I say again, finally getting it together. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought about our discussion yesterday," she says, brushing her hair out of her face.

"…Go on."

"I don't want to give you up either. Let's do this, Luke Steele."