DAD WAS BACK IN THEIR lives. He had the potential to ruin Mischa’s business.

No matter where Ash directed her attention, those two thoughts played on repeat through dinner, and after Kelly vanished to her room for the night.

Ralph Wolfram specialized in deals like the one he had with Mischa—those high-risk investments driven by ego and passion—then swooped in with no remorse to claim the property at a fraction of what it was worth.

Once upon a time she thought she was casting her father in an evil light because of how she felt about him. She’d seen enough of his deals, though, to know it wasn’t vilification—it was reality.

“Hey.” Mischa tugged her fingers.

Apparently, her wandering thoughts had her standing in the middle of the foyer, staring blankly at the wall. She shook her head to rattle things loose, and focused on him. “Hey.”

“What can I do?”

He was too sweet. Someone had actually brought a fairy tale prince to life. And given him tattoos and a sexy accent. “I’m processing it, is all.”

“Come on.” He tugged her into the living room, and pulled her to sit on the couch next to him. “You need something to take your mind off things.”

“Like what?”

“Funny movies.”

That sounded like a decent plan. The way his leg pressed against hers, and he held her hand, were already pushing away the clouds. More of the same, plus funny, couldn’t be a bad thing. “What did you have in mind?”

“Blade Runner.”

“Fuck, you’re old.” The retort slipped out before she could consider it. She bit her bottom lip and stared at him with wide eyes. “Sorry.”

Mischa laughed. “Or Deadpool. That’s good, too.”

She adored that he got all her random references. “Blade Runner isn’t actually a comedy. You know that, right?”

“Are you sure?” He frowned and twisted his face, as if deep in thought. “I’m supposed to take that seriously? Really?”

The light joking helped lift her spirits. “Pretty sure a statement like that will get you lynched in a lot of places.”

“Good thing we’re not in any of those places. You pick. Your favorite movie, and we’ll watch it. Unless it’s going to make you all introspective and shit. If you name some mopey-feely movie, I reserve the right to veto it.”

“You don’t like movies with feels?”

He rested his palm on her cheek and searched her eyes. “I don’t like seeing you unable to climb out of your own head.” He traced his thumb along her skin, and the barely-there contact sank into her bones. Another layer of comfort. “If you think a solid cry will help, we can watch Blade Runner.”

A laugh slipped out, and she liked the way it felt. “For a movie I get the impression you don’t like, you’re sure fixated on watching it.”

“What?” His voice was full of mock indignation. “There’s laughter. There’s uncontrollable sobbing. It’s a classic.”

“I pick Cinderella.” She enjoyed the teasing, but if she let him keep up with the jokes, they might actually end up watching Blade Runner, and she suspected he didn’t want that.

His raised eyebrow said he wasn’t so keen on the Cinderella idea, either. “Isn’t that a bit...”

“True to life?”

“I was going to say sing-songy.”

“You said I could pick.” Her indignation held a hint of teasing. She’d just said the first movie that came to mind. “Besides, the singing—especially Gus Gus—is part of what takes the sting out of things.”

“Compromise?” Mischa asked.

“Between not-Blade Runner and Cinderella?”

“Yes.”

She racked her brain for what that might be, and came up blank. “How?”

“The Princess Bride.”

It really was like he’d been made in a Prince Charming mold. “All right, I’m in.”

It didn’t take him long to pull up the movie. She sank into the familiar dialog and scenes, giggling when Mischa recited lines along with it, shifting voices for each part. It didn’t take her mind off the issues with her dad, though.

At some point during the movie, Mischa stretched out to lie down on the couch, and tugged her with him, so she was in front, his arm draped over her hip.

“You’re still not relaxed.” The heat of his breath caressed the back of her neck.

She shook her head. “I’m trying.”

“That’s the opposite of the point. You’re supposed to not try. Calm isn’t a force-it kind of thing.” There was no accusation in his voice.

“Okay, I’ll try to not try.”

He kissed the top of her head. “That’ll do.”

The movie ended, and she couldn’t help her smile when he searched out Cinderella. The animation and music tied her to an earlier part of her life, and tugged security to the surface. She wasn’t sure when she drifted off, but she jerked away to see the TV screensaver sliding through photographs of scenery.

Mischa still had his arm over her, holding her close, his steady breathing pressing against her back with each rise and fall of his chest.

“Mischa?” she said softly.

He didn’t stir.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, and an uneasy alertness filled her. Something had woken her, but what? A bad dream. A memory. Whatever it was, it fluttered outside her grasp. That didn’t make it any easier for her to fall back asleep.

She should go sleep in her own bed, but this was comfortable.

The shadows in her head nudged harder. Her father had the potential to destroy Mischa, depending on the details of the contract. She couldn’t let this ruin him. If she thought begging her dad’s forgiveness—admitting some sort of wrong-doing—would buy Mischa leniency, she’d do it. As long as it didn’t hurt Kelly. She could swallow her pride for that.

It wouldn’t work, though.

Mischa needed to reach new audiences. If the people he was talking to weren’t buying, he needed to talk to new people. A social media manager at one of her jobs had taught Ash a few tricks around online advertising. If she knew enough, she could set Mischa up. Excitement ticked her senses.

She tried to shake him as best she could, without having to move.

“Hmm?” His voice was drowsy.

“Who runs your Facebook? Oh, and I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“Runs my... What? Me, I guess. I post pictures and shit when I remember.”

“Not your personal page. The firm.”

Even his chuckle sounded sleepy. “You don’t sell commercial real estate on Facebook.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” There went that idea.

He squeezed her. “Get some sleep?”

“Okay.” She pressed back into him.

He pulled a throw from the back of the couch, and covered them both up. A moment later, his breathing had steadied again. Asleep.

Ash tried to push the idea away and follow his lead, but she couldn’t let it go. She extracted herself from Mischa, and made her way to her room and laptop.

****

MISCHA WAS PRETTY SURE when he fell asleep on the couch Ash was with him. But instead of her, nestled in his arms, all he had to show for the night was a crick in his neck.

He squinted until he got rid of the sleepy-eye-blur enough to read the digital clock across the room. It was two in the morning.

Hurt twinged inside that she had abandoned him, but he didn’t blame her if she was more comfortable in a real bed.

He sat up and stretched, hoping to pop whatever he’d pinched while he was sleeping. Once he was loose enough to move without wincing, he made his way upstairs.

A bluish glow came from Ash’s room, reflecting off the open door. He paused to see her reading something on her laptop, then clicking to an image of the property he was trying to move, then tabbing to some sort of list.

“Ash?”

She whirled, eyes wide. Even in the dim light, he could see they were bloodshot.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Figuring out how demographic targeting works. Did you know there’s a huge user base of people over the age of forty, who are likely to be in the upper ten percent, income-wise, who are using the platform mostly to keep in touch with family and colleagues, but who are highly likely to be drawn to the right kind of—”

“Ash.”

She blinked. “Hmm?”

“Give me the too long; didn’t read version?”

“You can sell commercial real estate on Facebook.”

Apparently he didn’t dream that conversation after all. Good to know his subconscious wasn’t that fucked up. “You’ve been working on that for the last... how many hours?”

“What time is it?” She glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t know, a couple. I have to do something. You’re doing so much for us.”

“You don’t owe me anything. This is a”—relationship, the word stuck in his throat—“a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Her shoulders slumped. “I have to do something. Please?”

If it meant seeing her smile, he’d agree to quite a bit. “Okay. And you can explain it to me in the morning, when I’ve had coffee. But I don’t promise to keep up. I have a feeling the things you know are above my pay grade.”

And there was that smile. Impish and alluring. “I’m just starting to figure it out. It’s simple, though. See, there’s detailed targeting by region—”

“Ash.”

“I’ll keep it high-level, for your muscle-headed, executive brain,” she teased.

“I appreciate it. And get some sleep?”

“I don’t know if I can.”

He crossed the room, tugged her to her feet, and guided her toward his room. He pulled her down next to him on the bed, and covered them both with blankets. “Just try. If you’re still awake in half an hour, I’ll let you go back to your detailed targeting by muscle-headed executives.”

She giggled. “All right. Half an hour.”

Five minutes later, she was relaxed against him, sleeping soundly. The contrast of her eyelashes against pale cheeks, and the slight part of her lips, even the faint snore, were adorable.

What kind of problems would it cause, if this fake relationship turned to a real one? Did either of them even want that? With her it might be okay.

He was awakened by the alarm on his phone. It took him a moment to remember why he’d set that for a Saturday.

The picnic. Right. That was going to be interesting.

Ash’s eyes fluttered open, and she rolled onto her back. The pillow had left an imprint on her cheek, and her hair was mussed. Gorgeous. They could stay up here and hide from the world for a little longer, right? Spend some more time getting to know each other intimately?

Mischa summoned his willpower and climbed from the bed. He tugged her to sit, stealing a kiss in the process. “You ready to do this?”

“No. But let’s get it over with.”

She went to get ready and make sure Kelly was up, and he called Tristan. When there was no answer, he left a quick message. “We need to talk, and it needs to be before we start mingling today. Either call me when you get this, or meet me near the edge of the park, near the lot, at eleven.”

A bit later, Mischa, Ash, and Kelly were on their way. The atmosphere in the car was heavy. Ash spent most of the drive fiddling with her cast, and drumming the fingers of her good hand on her knee. Kelly stared out the window, and was uncharacteristically quiet.

Tristan was waiting when they arrived. As they approached, Ash turned to Kelly. “You don’t have to stick around for the business talk, as long as you stay where I can see you.”

Kelly shook her head. “I’m good here for now.”

“Ladies.” Tristan smiled at them, then turned to Mischa. “Got your message. What’s up?”

Mischa glanced at Ash, who gave an odd sort of shrug-nod.

Might as well tip his hand. “Ash wants to sell our property on Facebook.” He winced. That wasn’t the right thing to lead with.

Tristan looked surprised. “You can do that? And you thought we should discuss it now?”

“She thinks she can do it, and I’m willing to try anything at this point. But no. I called because... Fuck, it sounds so completely implausible to put words to it.”

Tristan crossed his arms. “More implausible than This is my fiancée, and we’ve successfully kept our relationship and her little sister a secret for several months?”

“More implausible than that.”

Ash sighed. “My last name before I changed it, Kelly’s last name, is Wolfram. Our dad...”

“Fuck me.” Tristan dropped his face into his palm. When he looked up, he wore a hopeful expression. “Wait a minute, that’s great, isn’t it?” Tristan’s tone was tentatively hopeful. “Mischa will be family. Automatic favor for the new son-in-law?”

Mischa wasn’t going to share the details of what Ash told him. That was her right and decision to make. “I don’t get the impression that’s the case.”

“Even if that theory worked, with whole concept of a... short term engagement,” Ash said, “He doesn’t typically make exceptions. Especially not for family.”

Tristan puffed out his cheeks and forced out a breath, and turned back to Mischa. “What’s the plan, then?”

“Plan hasn’t changed. I’ve got two weeks to try as hard as fuck to flip that property.” Mischa had no idea how, but he didn’t see any other options. “And for today, we kiss some serious ass and make ourselves some new best friends.”

Kelly grabbed his arm, startling him. She pointed toward a table where there was face-painting going on. “I want what you did to Ash’s cast.”

“That’s not what he’s here for.” Ash managed to adopt a tone that was both kind and stern.

“Besides, the lady over there is doing a great job,” Mischa said.

Kelly scowled. “I don’t want it on my face, I want it on my arm, like you did for Ash. Please? Then I’ll pretend I’m one of the kids, so the grown-ups can do business.”

Mischa glanced at Ash, not wanting to overstep any bounds. She shook her head, the corners of her mouth tugging up. “It’s up to you. And if you’re going to use someone else’s brushes, the face painting lady has to say yes too.”

“Please.” Kelly tugged him toward the table again.

“All right.” Mischa let her lead him, and Ash followed too. Ass-kissing would wait another fifteen minutes. He had art to create.

*

ASH STOOD A FEW FEET away from the face-painting table, back to a tree, watching Mischa create. It only took a smile and a wink as he talked to the original painter, and she was happy to share her brushes.

Ash didn’t blame her for giving in with a giggle.

In a flowing script, Mischa wrote волчонок on Kelly’s arm, and told her it meant wolf cub. Ash wasn’t sure if that was a play on their name, or something else, but it made her sister grin like crazy.

And then another teenager wanted a fake tattoo. Mischa obliged. He was on arm number four now, and he looked as happy to be there as his patrons. Kelly sat by his side on the bench, acting as his bouncer.

“Georgia.”

Ash’s glee plummeted into her shoes at the sound of her father’s voice. She looked to her side to see Ralph Wolfram standing next to her. He was watching the table as well.

“Hi, Dad. We were about to come looking for you.” At least, she assumed they would at some point. She wasn’t in a hurry to seek him out.

“In that case, I’m glad I found you.” His tone was cool and polite. The kind of neutral his associates would interpret as friendly, but that sent ice sliding down her spine. “I saw your news on Kelly’s Instagram. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

“He’s a talented man. You’re lucky to have found him.”

Ash searched for a hint of sarcasm in her dad’s voice, but couldn’t find it. “I really am.”

The reply was expected, but she felt the reality of it all the way to her core. It wasn’t just the engagement and the details around it, but Mischa himself. It was a one-in-a-million kind of thing that hurt when she thought about the fact it might be temporary.

Might. The qualifier sang with both hope and delusion. She stashed it aside so she could focus on the conversation.

“I meant to call, offer my congratulations sooner, but you know how it goes,” Ralph said.

She caught the derision that time. The suggestion he wasn’t the only one who could have called. “I do.”

Kelly looked up from her negotiating with other teenagers, and gave a tiny wave, her smile not reaching her eyes.

“Your sister looks happy.”

Mischa followed Kelly’s gaze, meeting Ash’s.

“She is. She’s doing really well,” Ash said.

“Glad to hear it.” He didn’t sound like he was. Then again, he didn’t sound like he was feeling much of anything.

Mischa spoke to the growing line, and a chorus of groans rose up, loud enough to reach Ash. He gathered up the supplies he’d used, and handed them back to the owner.

Dad nodded at Ash’s cast. “What happened to your arm?”

“I broke it.”

“So that’s why they put casts on things these days.” There was the sarcasm she’d been expecting.

Ash gave him a thin-lipped smile. “Seems that way.”

Mischa approached, his gait assured, and extended his hand. “Ralph. We were about to come find you. It’s a fantastic event, thank you for inviting us.”

“Hi, Daddy.” Kelly’s tone was flat. She gave him a quick hug. “I’m going to go skate.”

“Go have fun,” Ash said at the same time Ralph said, “Of course, pumpkin. It was good to see you.”

Kelly gave Ash a tight smile, then hurried off.

“I’m glad you came.” Enthusiasm had replaced her dad’s cool tone when he turned to Mischa. “I was just catching up with your stunning fiancée.”

Mischa slipped an arm around Ash’s waist, and she leaned into him, as much for comfort and assurance as show. “She’s amazing. But you already know that.”

“I raised them well.”

Ash bit the inside of her cheek to keep from choking on her dad’s self-praise. She’d heard the line enough times in her life that it was easy to keep her mask in place.

Now that Mischa was here, Dad kept eye-contact with him, never glancing at Ash. “Will the two of you be at the country club fundraiser Tuesday night?”

“I’m afraid my invitation was lost in the mail.” Mischa sounded congenial.

Dad waved the comment off. “Nonsense. Consider yourselves my guests. If you can make it.”

“We’d love to,” Ash replied before Mischa could.

There was no way she was letting her dad intimidate her, or whatever he was up to. Maybe just business? There was that demon, making her question her observations. But it could be true. He might have changed since they last spoke. Or she’d exaggerated the past.

“I’m glad to hear it. I’ll send over the details later tonight. While I’ve got you,” Ralph said. “I’ve been thinking a lot over the past few weeks, about that property of yours.”

Mischa raised his brows. “Really?”

Ash braced herself for some sort of passive comment about how it was a failed idea, and Mischa was lucky he had someone to take it off his hands when things fell through. Not because she thought that about the deal, but her father had certain habits.

“I wish there was more interest. So many of those buildings have potential. It would be nice if you have a little extra time to try and place them with someone who had the same appreciation for it.”

Nope. She hadn’t expected that. Ash forced her brain to keep up with the twist.

“That would be nice.” Mischa’s surprised tone matched the one in her head.

“It’s a shame.” Ralph cast his gaze around the faces at the party, dragging out his thought. “I rarely make offers like that. To do so for someone who was about to be family... Rumors of nepotism can be damaging to a reputation.”

And there it was. At least they got to this part early in the day. “Dad,” Ash growled.

“Maybe it’s a cultural difference.” Disdain hung in Mischa’s words. “My parents being from The Motherland, they had some notions about family that don’t always translate well in this country. But I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who would hold a contract as hostage, to ruin a relationship. Not anyone who would admit it out loud.”

A terror mixed with gratitude surged inside Ash. Did Mischa know what he was walking into? He must. She didn’t want to see things get worse for him, but she liked the glimmer of recognition he was doing it because of her.

Ralph stared back, expression bland. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m sure you don’t. In that case, let me finish my rant, which is obviously unprovoked. I don’t deal in that currency. I don’t trade my affection for a break, or business reasons. And if for some reason, leaving Ash were the solution to my business problems, I’d pick her, and reconsider my professional decisions.”

The corner of Ralph’s mouth curled up in a distasteful smile. “Which I suppose is just one more difference between the two of us.”

“I suppose it is.” Mischa matched his expression. “It was wonderful chatting with you. I think we’re going to mingle a little more.”

The moment they were out of earshot, Mischa muttered, “Мудак.”

She wanted to smile that he shared her opinion of the situation, but she couldn’t shake the details of the conversation from her mind.