Chapter One

Riley

I take off my shirt before heading to the edge of the pool. The breeze blows against my sweat-coated skin. The cyan surface of the water glitters under the afternoon sunlight seeping through the glass panels of the ceiling above. The smell of chlorine drifts up to my nostrils.

As I stretch the muscles of my shoulders, my thoughts wander to my childhood, when I first started swimming. Back then, I only did it because the water felt nice. Then I started doing it for other things--for records, for medals. Still, the anticipation of being in the water remains. Each time I stand at the edge of the pool, excitement ripples through my veins. It doesn't matter if there's no one watching, if there's no one swimming in the next lane. It's always been about me and the water.

Always.

I slip my goggles over my eyes and prepare to take the plunge. But my phone rings. I almost ignore it, but then I remember I'm expecting a call.

With a frown, I backtrack to the table where I've left my phone and my water bottle. I pick up the phone and lift my goggles over my swim cap to glance at the screen.

The call is from Mickey, my stepmother. I wasn't expecting it to be her, but I guess I should have been. I'm sure she's heard about what I've done by now.

I tap the screen and hold the phone to my ear. "Mickey."

"Riley, please don't tell me you're really going to be on that stupid show."

Her disappointment travels clearly over the line. I can imagine her with her painted eyebrows bunched up in the middle of her forehead, her crimson lips in a pout and her French manicured nails tapping on the surface nearest her. She's probably at her book club, trying to pass herself off as smart even though she can hardly spell my name, or at Bergdorf Goodman, buying another pair of Jimmy Choo shoes that look just like the ones she already has just so she can have something new on her Instagram account to make her friends blush in envy, or at some fundraiser, donating some of my father's money so she won't feel so guilty about spending the rest of it.

I place my other hand on my hip. "Fine. I won't tell you."

"Why, you--" She stops to draw a deep breath, confirming my suspicion that she isn't alone. When she speaks again, she sounds calmer. "Your father isn't going to like this."

And what he thinks is all Mickey ever cares about.

"Of course not," I agree. When did he ever like anything I did?

"You're just doing this to spite us, aren't you?"

I lean on the table. "Sorry to disappoint you, Mickey, but believe it or not, I have better things to do than crush your expectations."

"Why are you doing this, then? Hmm?"

I shrug. "For fun."

She snorts.

"Also because an old friend called in a favor."

"Fine, then. Have your fun. Just don't forget your agreement with your father."

"I haven't."

Like I ever could. A man on death row does not forget the date of his upcoming execution.

"There's still a month before my birthday. Filming for the show will be over way before then."

"It better. I'm throwing you a grand birthday party."

Is that what she's worried about?

I frown. "To celebrate the beginning of the end of my life? How thoughtful."

"Oh, grow up, Riley," Mickey admonishes. "And while you're at it, why don't you grow a new pair of balls, because the ones you have seem to have withered from the chlorine."

On that insult, she ends the call.

I let it go as I put down my phone. She may be a billionaire's wife now, but once a bitch, always a bitch.

But man, I wish she didn't nag so much.

I put her words behind me as I put my goggles back on. Then I jump into the pool.

As the water swallows me whole, the rest of the world melts away. All I can see is blue. All I can feel is the cold caress against my skin. As I break the surface, my arms and legs begin to move on their own, each stroke and kick propelling me forward. I lose myself to the rhythm, to the adrenaline pumping through my veins.

This is the thrill my body craves for. This is what I've trained it for.

My hands touch marble and I turn, increasing my speed on the second lap. My muscles burn fuel. My lungs savor every gasp of air.

When my fingertips graze the cold tiles a second time, I stop and straighten up. The soles of my feet fall flat against the bottom. For a moment, I just stand there with my shoulders rising and falling, my mouth gaping as I catch my breath. Then I pull off my goggles and my cap.

I'm about to hoist myself up when I see a hand in front of me. I lift my head and see a friendly face.

"What are you doing here, Jer?" I ask him even as I grip his hand, letting him pull me out of the water which seems hesitant to let me go. Drops of water cling to my Speedo swim trunks and trickle down my leg.

Jeremiah Lawrence gives me that grin I've known since sixth grade. "Sure you don't have a clue?"

As I dry myself off, I realize I do.

"Judy sent you, didn't she?"

"Well, you know my little sister's nuts about you."

That's a mild way of putting it. And if she weren't Jerry's younger sister, I would have shaken her off a long time ago.

"And we all know you're nuts about her," I remark as I grab my water bottle.

Jerry just shrugs.

"So she's heard I'm going to be on TV?" I lift the bottle to my lips.

"Man, you've been on TV a hundred times. If that was all there was, she wouldn't be worried. But you on a reality show? And one where you have to get married to boot? What's gotten into you?"

I take a final gulp of water and set my bottle down. "You of all people should understand. Remember the deal I made with my old man?"

He nods. "You're free to swim and do what you want until you turn 28, when you have to do what your father wants, which is basically to help out in the family company and settle down with a respectable woman."

Respectable meaning someone of his choosing.

"Exactly. I'm turning 28 soon, so this is my last taste of freedom."

"I get that. But getting married?"

I sit down on a lounge chair. "It's only for a week. I'll get a divorce on the last day."

His eyes narrow. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

He nods. "Judy will be glad to hear that."

I'm sure she will. She already thinks we're married. And the problem is, since her family and mine are close, it's a possibility. In fact, I've heard Mickey say on more than one occasion that Judy Lawrence should be my wife. Not if I can help it, though of course I can't say that to Jerry out loud.

"But you're going to pretend to be in love with your wife, right?"

"Yeah." I lift my legs up and lie down on the chair. "You know, pretend I'm caring and responsible, which is basically what I do all the time."

"If only people knew what a pompous ass you are." Jerry shakes his head. "I seriously don't know what Judy sees in you."

Me neither.

"Wait." He touches his chin. "They won't show you fucking on TV, will they?"

"Nah." I place my arms behind my head. "But that doesn't mean it won't happen when the cameras stop rolling. Every night."

I give him a wink.

Jerry gives another sigh. "You're just playing around like you usually do, aren't you?"

"But this time, it's with a woman who won't be able to say no to me."

"Like a woman has ever said no to Riley Boyle McAllister."

I smirk because it's true. "And I won't have to think of any consequences because we both know it's just for one week."

"God forbid you think of the consequences of your actions."

I ignore that. "Besides, it's practice."

"You mean you're practicing getting married to a woman someone else chose for you?"

"Something like that."

Jerry's eyes narrow. "You're crazy."

"You already know that."

He shrugs. "Whatever. It's your life."

Exactly. It's the last four weeks of my life, so this is my last chance to do something completely crazy, to do something fun other than swimming. To feel alive and be myself.

I draw a deep breath as I gaze at the glass ceiling.

I sure hope they find someone really interesting.