One month later

“You're going to be fine,” Matthew says, rubbing his hand in a slow circle over the small of my back. Matthew—I still can't get used to calling him that, no matter how much we practice it. It's all part of the agreement we made.

After that night on his balcony, we sat down and got serious about what it's going to take to make this work. We both agreed that feelings can’t enter into it—that's too complicated, and it would get too ugly if we hit a snag in the road.

“What if I am pregnant?” I'd joked. I knew deep down there was no way I would be—it wasn't the right time in my cycle.

“We'll cross that bridge,” he'd said, a note of seriousness in his voice.

“I'm not pregnant.”

“You couldn't possibly know for sure yet.”

“I can, and I do.” A tiny flicker in the back of my mind prompted the remote possibility—maybe I was pregnant—but I quickly dismissed the warning.

It was more important to discuss the terms of our agreement.

No emotional attachments.

I would not be at risk of losing my job.

Robin and I could move in to one of Mr. Hunter's—Matthew's—developments, and he would make sure we were both able to get on Hunter Housing's insurance plan without waiting the normal amount of time.

When the trust funds are finally released, I'll be paid two hundred thousand dollars, enough to pay off my loans and take care of the rent for another several years.

All I have to do is pretend to be Matthew's girlfriend—Matthew’s recently knocked-up girlfriend. His father won't be able to prove it without a pregnancy test, and there's no way he'll be able to force me to take one.

Though if he did, I'd be ready because I really have to pee.

We're standing outside the door to his father's office, right next to the first of whom I assume is a few bodyguards. Matthew explained to me over one of our fake dates—all taking place out in the public eye, in case his father was having us watched—that his father is extremely paranoid and bitter. He insists on being surrounded by security guards, even at meetings with his own son.

“I can't blame him, though,” Matthew had said, his tone flip. “I am, after all, a slightly unhinged veteran with what he calls anger issues.” Then he'd looked at me, his blue eyes steely. “He doesn't realize that I'm only ever angry around him because he's such a greedy asshole.”

Now, after going out on several of those dates—and a few more hot fucks in Matthew's car and on his balcony—it's time to meet that greedy asshole and put the next phase of our plan into motion. 

Matthew looks across the room at the bodyguard, who raises one hand to his earpiece, then gives us a sharp nod.

“This is a little much,” I whisper, but Matthew isn't paying attention to me. He's staring straight ahead, his back ramrod straight. In this moment, I know exactly what he looked like when he was serving in the Army. A force to be reckoned with. He still is, but the uniform would have fit him like he was born to wear it. Then he reaches forward and opens the sleek double door, stepping inside without another moment of hesitation.

I follow along, never leaving his side.

“Mr. Hunter,” he says, his tone formal, with an added edge that sends a chill down my spine. “I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Skye.”

The man sitting behind the desk at the other end of the office is, without a doubt, Matthew's father. It's like an older version of him is sitting right there in front of us, silver-haired and just as physically well-built as his son. At Matthew's words, he rises from his seat, a smile crinkling his eyes, and comes around the desk toward us.

“What a pleasure,” he gushes. I don't know what to say. I've been preparing myself for a shouting match, not this handsome older man who's now taken my hand in his for a squeeze that's as familiar as it can get without being creepy. “It's lovely to meet you, Skye.” Then he turns to Matthew. “I understand you have some news to share with me.”

* * *

The moment stretches out around us. Matthew's jaw tightens, just a little. It's an expression I recognize from our dates. He's either surprised or angry. Probably a bit of both.

“So you heard.” His tone is flat. This is definitely not how we'd practiced. Matthew thought that his father would be prepared to meet me, and then we could deliver the news when he was relaxed enough to hear it.

“I did indeed, I did indeed.” Matthew's father—Richard—assesses me with the same pointed blue gaze as Matthew. Suddenly, the handshake doesn't seem so genuine. Suddenly, I'm not sure that I can trust him at all.

It makes my stomach turn.

But Richard Hunter isn't done speaking. He faces me again, and the smile that comes over his face doesn't quite reach his eyes this time. “When are you due?”

“April,” I say automatically, remembering at the last moment to look a little sheepish. At least we spent enough time practicing the answer, basing the date on that first time we...visited Matthew's balcony.

“That's wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.” The tension between the two men thickens despite the friendly tone in Richard’s voice. The older man raises his hands to his face, clasped together in front of his lips as if he's considering something, deep in thought. When he lowers them, he looks at me, then at Matthew. “But there is one thing.”

Oh, shit.

Matthew looks as offended as I've ever seen him. “And what is that?”

Richard raises his hands as if the choice isn't his at all. “The terms of the trust stipulate that the pregnancy has to be confirmed—”

“Are you suggesting that Skye take a pregnancy test?”

Richard purses his lips. “That would be the easiest way, don't you think?”

Matthew’s face is turning red. We'd discussed my having to take a test as a possibility, but I don't think he really believed his father would take it that far.

I realize that I have to buy us some time.

“I'll take a pregnancy test,” I say, my voice coming down hard between the two of them. “I've already taken several. What's one more?”