Kara tossed and turned in bed that night for what felt like hours. She’d never had so much to mull over, not even in the throes of grant applications and launching—and losing—her long-held dream. Because now, she had a chance to realize her dream after all.

It’s just that it now had a million tiny strings attached.

Thoughts scraped together in her head like train wheels screeching over tracks. How was she supposed to find a foothold in this mess? Every few minutes she flipflopped completely as to what seemed like the best move. Her immediate reaction, though she had squashed it at the time, had been to shriek like a teenybopper and throw her arms around Gregor’s neck. But that wouldn’t look good for negotiating.

Once she’d gotten home, her sanity checked her excitement. She’d Googled the hell out of him, searching for police reports, rumors, and red flags. Beyond the normal playboy womanizing he was known for, she’d found nothing alarming. Still, the reserved side of her told her to stay far, far away from this devilishly handsome man. What good could come of these secret deals? It was like selling an organ on the black market with only the assurance that, “You’ll get your money, don’t worry.” Now she wanted to agree to sell her heart?

That’s what this is. Selling your heart for cash.

She rolled her eyes in the dark bedroom, flopping onto her back. Even that was a bit much for her, the recovering hopeless romantic. But still, there was a kernel of truth buried in there. Posing as a woman in love. Could it be a forfeiture of finding actual love? What if the act meant she’d miss her chance at the real thing?

Kara wasn’t dumb or hopeless by any means, just scarred and cautious. Her last serious relationship had essentially amounted to a fakery as well, though she’d been the only one not in on the ruse. Cody, her first love and the boy she’d lost her virginity to, had played along by any means necessary just to get her to open her legs. And when the truth came tumbling out, that he’d taken the relationship to I love you because it was the only way she’d sleep with him, her heartbreak had very nearly shattered her.

Men could be pigs. She had learned the hard way.

At least this one is up front about what he wants. That, at least, she could respect. She bunched her pillow beneath her head, toying with what it might feel like to be seen as the starry-eyed lover to a celebrity. If Gregor, in his position, was forced to find a fake wife, then how many other people in Hollywood and beyond were putting up a similar ruse? This felt like lifting the veil. Like finding out her favorite screenwriter was actually a group of authors working under a fictitious name, or like the shuddering realization that the “natural flavors” listed on food labels really weren’t natural at all.

And maybe there would be consequences for participating in something like that. Maybe this was her call to take the moral high road. Do the ethical thing. Tell the sexy celebrity “no,” that he should go find his fake pussy somewhere else.

Kara huffed, rolling onto her other side. She just couldn’t get comfortable tonight. No matter what she did, the indecision weighed on her like shackles. Just decide something and get it over with.

She sat up in bed, staring at the soft blue light pulsing from her printer in the corner. “I won’t do it.”

There, she’d said it out loud. But it didn’t feel quite right.

Remember how bad it felt to be in a fake relationship the first time? Maybe she needed to focus on this, the personal aspect. Quit thinking about the fact that she had an actual way to obtain the one thing she’d been working toward. She’d do well to remember that the niggling in her gut was probably right. Being an imposter at this level was just…wrong.

She sighed, tossing the covers off. Sleep wouldn’t come. That much was clear. She snatched her tablet off the desk and slumped onto the floor next to her bed, turning the device on. Mindless scrolling was in order. Maybe that would help her zone out enough to actually accomplish the sleep portion of sleeping on it.

She gravitated toward her photo album, getting lost in drama pictures from her five years as a teacher. Kara had graduated college a bit early, at only twenty-one, and this school year marked her fifth anniversary of teaching. In some ways, it felt as if she’d been doing this forever…and then some days she felt newer than she had on her first day.

Kara had been fortunate enough to cross plenty of gifted students’ paths. She grinned as she swiped through the final rehearsal pictures for Into the Woods, the spring production from her first year on the job. That was the year she’d met Cassie, who had been a senior at the time and felt more like a friend than a student. Cassie’s skill was off the charts, but when it came time for college applications, she’d been denied entry into the drama program of her choice at a California university. Cassie picked being a lawyer instead—the safe path recommended by her parents.

But maybe she would have gotten in if you could have helped her prepare for the duration of her high school career. If you could give the dedicated attention you’re planning for the drama school.

Kara nibbled at her lip, scrolling through more pictures. Last time they’d talked, Cassie was miserable finishing up her prelaw degree. A lifetime of eighty-hour weeks awaited her. Nothing beautiful or fulfilling, as she’d hoped.

Isn’t that what this is about? Giving people the chance to actually pursue what they love?

Kara stared over the top of her tablet into the darkness of the bedroom, the edges of her vision growing blurry. This was what she loved. Affecting students. Aligning passions. Achieving goals.

Triple A Arts Academy. There’s your name.

Excitement shivered through her, and in that moment, she knew. Without a doubt. She had to accept Gregor’s offer. It’s the only way.

She scrambled for her phone, fumbling to type out the message to Gregor. “I’m in. Just tell me where to go from here.”

Kara stared at the phone, hardly daring to breathe, waiting for a response. When none came, she checked the time. It was after midnight. Maybe he was asleep already. She shouldn’t stare at the phone like a crazy person waiting for an immediate response.

But soon her screen lit up with a text message. It was Gregor.

“You’re sure?”

She could practically hear him saying it in that sinfully sexy British accent. “Yes.”

“Do you have a passport?”

She blinked, thinking about where it might be stowed. This was sounding a bit like a Bond movie suddenly. “Yes.”

“I’ll send a car for you tomorrow morning. Pack a bag, your computer, your passport, whatever essentials you want for a trip. We’ll be gone for a while.”

Her insides lit up like a fourth of July fireworks display. What did “a while” mean? And where the hell were they going?

It didn’t even matter. She’d figure the details out later.

She was ready for the adventure.

Kara woke up extra early the next morning to pack. Even in the light of day, this decision still felt like the right one. That’s a good sign. She threw a bag together hastily, extracted her passport from its hiding spot, and tried to tidy up as much as she could before the car arrived.

The buzzer rang at nine thirty. Kara’s belly flopped, and she breezed over to the intercom. “Hello?”

“This is Bridgette Anderson, assistant to Gregor Beaumont.” A smooth, cool British voice came through the intercom. Kara’s insides fluttered again. “I’m ready down here when you are.”

“Great. Be there in a sec.” Kara flicked off the intercom and let out a squeal. Shit, did she have everything? She made a last sweep of her place, gripped her rolling luggage, and then closed her apartment up behind her. Downstairs, a narrow-nosed blonde woman waited for her, eyeing her with something between suspicion and amusement.

“I’m Kara.” She offered a hand, and Bridgette took it.

“Pleasure,” Bridgette said. “Let’s be on our way, shall we?” She helped her put the luggage in the trunk, and they climbed into the back seat of the waiting sedan. The driver wordlessly put the car into gear and whisked them off. Bridgette turned to face her. This woman was all business.

“We’re heading for the airport,” she began, pulling out her phone and swiping through screens while she spoke. “Don’t worry too much about your things—the plan is that you’ll have a personal shopper while you’re in Barcelona.”

Kara blinked, hardly able to believe it. “Barcelona?”

“That’s the first stop on the racing circuit,” Bridgette said. “In case you didn’t know, Mr. Beaumont is a top competitor. He’s already en route to Spain and will be preparing for the upcoming Formula One race.”

Kara’s gaze drifted toward the window. This all felt and sounded like a surreal dream. “Okay. And what should I do about my apartment while I’m gone?”

“Write out a list of what needs looked after. Mr. Beaumont’s house sitter has already been alerted.” Bridgette produced a pen and paper, offering it to her. “You should also detail here who needs to be called, anything that will help wrap up your affairs during your absence. I will assist with your business affairs.”

“And how long should I expect to be gone?”

“About a month. For now.” Bridgette sniffed, glancing back at her phone.

Kara’s head spun. This was unfurling so suddenly, so methodically. Maybe Gregor had tricked other women into this same ruse before. He could be a practiced seducer of fake spouses. Maybe he had a whole basement full of fake wives, feeding off their energy. Kara smirked. That would make for an interesting play once this was all said and done.

She clutched the pen and paper for a bit, staring at the passing Seattle suburb as they wound their way toward the airport. And then she got to work, making out her list. Somewhere between Send our mass apology to drama students and pitch all the perishables in the fridge, she remembered something she’d wanted to clarify last night. With Gregor only.

Kara tapped out a quick message to her new fiancé. “Hey Greg. Can I call you Greg now that we’re betrothed? I’m going to need to see some proof that you’re moving on my theater. Time is running out.”

Really, she’d prefer that he already had the deed in hand, but that was a bit much for less than twelve hours.

His response came through a few moments later. “I’ve been on the phone with a Mr. Henry Walton. He is very intrigued by my offer and inclined to take it. You shall have your theater soon, dearest.”

Kara smirked at the unexpected pet name. At least the man was proactive.

The trip to Barcelona was as uneventful as a first-time private jet experience could be. Wood trim edged the seats, a personal attendant brought both her and Bridgette mimosas, and Kara spent the majority of her trip fully reclined in the plushest leather seat she’d ever experienced in her life. If this was the stuff of Gregor’s life, she might not have a hard time adapting.

By the time the plane landed in Barcelona, Kara was well rested but lost in space and time. Her body felt like it was evening, but the bright and bustling airport in Spain suggested it was early morning. Bridgette led them to a waiting car nearby.

As they settled into the backseat of this similar sedan halfway across the world, Bridgette said, “I hope you got enough sleep. We’ll be stopping off at the garage first to see Mr. Beaumont. He would like to have a word with you. And then I’ll show you to your hotel room.”

“Great. I, uh…” The question withered on her lips. Suddenly, it became real. Was the ruse live now? Should she show up and embrace her supposed fiancé? There were a lot of details to be hashed out still. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Barcelona blurred by in a stream of early morning pedestrians and bright buildings. Already the air felt different, and when she listened hard enough at stop signs she could catch quiet Catalan wafting from the streets or the th-th sound of Spanish. They drove away from the city center, down tree-lined streets that wound around gothic buildings sprawling for a block or longer. Kara tried to absorb as much as she could until the car made a sharp turn and pulled through gates in a stone wall, cutting off her tour of the city.

The car bumped and rumbled over cobblestones, following a curved path toward a long series of garages. Up ahead, Kara could see stacks of odd, round tires, seemingly too bulbous and small for a regular car. They eased to a stop, and Bridgette turned to her, offering a quick smile.

“Here we are.”

Kara pushed out of the car at the same time Bridgette did, taking a sharp inhale of the sweet, summer morning. How strange—she had no idea where she was, really, other than Barcelona. She hadn’t even told her friends she was making this trip, much less weighing the decision of selling her hand in marriage. Maybe this had been a rash decision…albeit a very interesting one.

“Kara.”

Gregor’s smooth vowels made her skin prickle. She’d heard his voice for the first time only yesterday, yet it already felt familiar. She spotted him coming toward her out of the garage, a lopsided grin on his face. Her heart twisted strangely at the sight of him. Had he really been so handsome yesterday? She remembered him being gorgeous, but not so...normal, too.

He wore stained coveralls and wiped his hands off with a stained rag as he approached. Hair mussed, grease on his neck, his eyes shining with mischief. He wore the look of a man who liked to tinker in his garage in his spare time. Not at all the glossy, perfect image of a millionaire celebrity who gathered notches on his bedpost for fun.

“Wow. Hey.” She blinked hard, trying to see past the veneer of manliness. The scent of grease and Burberry cologne reached her with something refined underneath, like expensive wood.

“Thanks, Bridgette.” He nodded at his assistant. She wandered away a moment later, buried in her phone. “Good to see you, Kara. I’m glad you made it.”

“I can’t believe this is real,” Kara said, shoving her hands into the front pockets of her jeans. “Woke up in Seattle, took a nap, and then woke up in Barcelona.”

“It’s important to move quickly on opportunities,” he said with a wink. Something in his tone made her feel warm, but she couldn’t tell why. Something in his tone also made her want to take her clothes off.

“Well, this is certainly an opportunity.” It was hard to keep eye contact with him. When she did, she wanted to gaze into those blue eyes forever. “I have a lot of questions, though.”

“Right.” His face hardened at the mention of business. “I’m sure. And I will answer all of them later today. For now, I wanted to touch base before you go off to relax and buy clothes.”

“Clothes?”

“I’ll have a personal shopper meet you whenever you’re ready. Maybe once you settle in at the hotel and have breakfast.”

Kara nodded, gaze snagging on a man heading their way. He was tall and lanky, similar in build to Gregor, but with darker hair.

“Ah, Christian.” Gregor smiled, clapping the newcomer on the back. “I’d like you to meet Kara.”

Kara smiled, taking Christian’s hand when he offered it. The same crush of questions entered her head as with Bridgette—How do I introduce myself? Should I start acting now? Is it appropriate to make some joke about being this man’s fiancé?—but she silenced them. “Nice to meet you, Christian.”

“Christian is my racing partner,” Gregor said, stuffing the dirty rag in his back pocket. “Sometimes he’s even my stand-in.”

“Only when the boss permits it,” Christian cracked.

“Let’s show Kara the car,” Gregor said suddenly, his tone almost reverent. “She hasn’t seen it yet.” Gregor jerked his head toward the garage, placing his hand on the small of her back to guide her. She jolted at the unexpected touch, feeling weightless as she followed his lead.

They stepped into the massive garage, which was almost sepulchral in its silence and size. Spotlights illuminated the star feature: the Formula One race car, a sleek red and black thing that looked more like a futuristic fantasy sketch than a real, functioning car. The wheels looked comically large compared to the level of the car, which sat so close to the ground she couldn’t imagine it negotiating even a simple curb.

“Here she is.” Gregor grinned, a childlike giddiness seeping from him as he led her around the car. The glee was evident in his voice as he pointed out certain features, the size of the engine, the important performance-enhancing tweaks they’d been implementing over the past few weeks. Christian stood off to the side, gazing at the car as though it were his son. The excitement intrigued her…Gregor was more like a kid showing off his prized Matchbox car than she’d expected of someone so refined.

Just goes to show…you know nothing about this man.

She had plenty to learn about Gregor Beaumont. That was for sure.

Besides, how could she not learn more about the patron of her dream? Their arrangement demanded it.

But more than that, she wanted to.