“We should probably get some of the formalities of our arrangement out of the way first,” I say. “I think we got a little bit ahead of ourselves there for a minute.”

And we did. The order wasn’t supposed to be like this. It’s supposed to be more like this -

First comes love.

Then comes marriage.

Not first comes a spark of undeniable attraction, then comes perfect sex with the innocent dirty girl of your dreams, then comes a contract for a fake relationship.

But as my father always told me, I’m not all that traditional.

“Of course,” she says, “you are a businessman first and foremost. We should absolutely discuss our arrangement.”

“I’ve never negotiated a contract with someone as adorable as you,” I say and her eyes light up at me.

“Do you have an office or something we can use to discuss?” Anna says, glowering at me.

“No,” I say, taking her sweet, delicate face in my hands. “We’re discussing it here.”

I guide her over to the bed and we both sit down on the edge, facing each other. She sweetly pulls her legs up under her, and leans into me like she just wants me to take her again.

“So what do I get out of all this? I may not be as experienced in business as you -”

“Baby, you’re not as experienced in anything as I am, but you will be.”

“I was going to say,” she replies sweetly, “I may not be as experienced in business as you are, but I do want everything in writing. I want everything hammered out before we agree to anything.”

“So the hot fucking I just gave you, the way you kept begging me to take you, that wasn’t part of the fake girlfriend thing? That was all real?”

She looks down and then her eyes glide up to mine, and I slip a finger under her chin, gazing into her eyes.

“Yes,” she says, “real sex. But that doesn’t mean I’m your girlfriend.”

“Of course,” I say, liking this little dance of hers.

But I have bigger fucking plans for her. Girlfriend? Fuck that.

She’s already more than that to me.

I’ve lost my mind for this girl.

“So what did you have in mind for me?”

I sigh deeply and put my hands on my knees, getting up and pacing over to my photo collection.

“Let me explain something about my father. He is all about appearances. I mentioned to you earlier that he is traditional. He doesn’t like most of the shit I get into. What he does like is my ideas, and the direction I want to take his company in, but he doesn’t like that I am single. Now, I don’t think he actually wants me to get married right away or anything, but what he does want is to see a nice girl on my arm.”

“So it’s not like he gave you an ultimatum or anything?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head, “not exactly. But there is a board of directors meeting coming up, and I know my brother wants to become president of the company when my father announces his retirement in three months. But I want to be president because, like I mentioned before, I like how the company is run. It’s actually my dad’s vision, to have it remain a family business. But he’s older now and I think he will just go along with my brother’s vision of things, just to keep the peace and keep the investors happy.”

“And you think having a girl on your arm will help you look more serious about the company. You think having a more traditional image will make your father see you as the future of the company.”

“Yeah,” I say, “exactly.”

“But why don’t you think it matter so much?” she asks, cocking her head to the side. “If your dad ultimately agrees with your vision for the company, why don’t you just tell him your plans and show him that your way is the better direction?”

“I hate to say it,” I explain, “but appearances really are the most important thing to a lot of these people.”

“But not to you,” she says. “Like you said before, you think things should be more egalitarian.”

“Right,” I say. “So you were listening to me.”

“I was listening. You’re not just a pretty face a rock-hard abs. You’re actually a pretty smart guy too.”

“And you’re not just sinful curves and a face that brings me to my knees. You’re a cool, smart chick too.”

“You’re pretty cool yourself,” she says, standing up and walking over to me.

“You know, I’ve gotten so many compliments and likes, and yet yours is the only person whose opinion I care about, all of a sudden.”

“Then you better work hard to make me happy,” she says sweetly, with that sassy, smart, pretty little mouth.

“I have a few ideas on how to make you happy.”

I take her hips in my hand and pick her up, and she wraps her legs around my sweetly as I lay her down on my bed, the blue and white moonlight tattooing her shoulders and her lips playing up into a sweet little smile.

And my heart clenches. Because I want her. All of her. And I need her.

And not just for pretend. Not just for show.