Chapter 12
Jameson
Megan’s wineglass is halfway to her lips when she freezes. “Engaged? We?”
I’m not sure which word confuses her more.
“Yes. You and me.”
“What…? What are you talking about?”
“I realize this might be a shock?—”
“Might be?”
“—but I need a fiancée. You also need something. Right?”
She sets her wineglass down, and nervously licks her lip. I take a sip of my wine while she struggles to digest what’s happening. Then she drags her teeth over her lip, tugging on it. Heat floods my chest like I just pounded my whole glass.
Our stare-down doesn’t seem to be ending anytime soon, so I prompt, “You need a fresh start to your life. Am I wrong?”
“You need a fiancée?” she says, clearly confused.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It’s a family obligation,” I summarize. “An expectation.”
I don’t particularly want to tell her that this obligation materialized during an argument with my oldest brother today, because he believes my sex life is such a public blight on our family’s reputation that he needs to aggressively intervene. And obviously, I can’t tell her about the game.
The game I’m afraid of losing.
But since the horn locking with Graysen this afternoon, it’s really sunk in that he has no way of knowing if I fail the challenge or not.
It is an honor system.
And the engagement will be a public affair. As soon as the media stops circulating gossip about my sex life in favor of swooning over my fairy-tale romance with my fiancée, Graysen will have what he wants. Then he can accept the truth—that I’m taking Granddad’s game seriously—and get off my back, start stressing about our siblings’ challenges instead.
How to explain this to her, though, when I’m not allowed to explain it?
I’ve decided to keep it simple.
“So, this would be an arrangement that would benefit us both.”
She looks like she can’t decide if I’ve lost my mind or if she’s being punked. “Um…”
“You’re surprised.”
“That’s a very mild word that doesn’t quite explain the numbness in my fingers right now.”
I consider that. “You’re upset?”
“No. Maybe. I’m not sure yet. Does Cole know about this?”
“Not yet.”
She gives me a look that says she knows as well as I do that he’s going to be pissed. But I’ve been trying not to focus on that part.
“So far, no one knows. But that would change quickly, once you say yes.”
I can practically see the shock moving through her system. Or maybe it’s terror that’s turning her cheeks pink and her skin damp.
“So… you want me to act like your fiancée, in public? To please your family?”
“You’d be my fiancée. You won’t need to act.”
She picks up her wine and… gobble would be the right word for what she does to it. “Except to pretend I’m suddenly in love with you?”
I choose my words carefully. “I won’t ask you to behave any differently from whatever feels natural to you. Except to behave like we’re engaged.” I try to add a dry note to my voice, but it comes out strangely growly. “If you can put across that you’re pleased to be engaged to me, it would help.”
Did that sound bitter?
Why is this making me sweat?
It seemed so much more natural in my head, where I envisioned her saying yes.
But she’s not saying yes.
“So we’d be… dating?”
“Yes.”
“And living together?”
“Well, yes. That would be the plan.”
“And we’d be… a couple?” Her eyes on me don’t waver, but the words come out a little huskier than the rest.
My cock throbs.
I have no idea when these pants became three sizes too small, but it’s definitely getting hot under the table.
I shift uncomfortably.
That shaky note in her voice…
Is she turned on? Or about to bolt?
“You mean, will we have sex? No. Your brother made it clear you’re recovering from a bad breakup. You’re off-limits.” Conveniently. “This isn’t about sex.” Unfortunately.
Megan stares at me, maybe weighing the likelihood that any man would actually mean that while asking her to be his fiancée.
“You are very loyal to my brother.”
“Yes. I am.”
“You want me to get engaged to you and date you, publicly, and live with you,” she repeats back to me. “But not have sex with you.”
“Correct.”
“For how long?”
“The engagement would be for a year. Then we’d go our separate ways.”
She stares at me for a long, tense moment.
“So it would just be an engagement? No wedding?”
“No wedding. I’m not looking for a wife. I wouldn’t even be getting engaged if my family wasn’t pressing the issue. I won’t be marrying anyone, for any reason.” I’m being as honest as I can be. I thought that would make her feel better, but as soon as it’s out of my mouth, I hear how it sounds. And it sounds damn cold.
Am I just convincing her to say no?
“I see…” She definitely looks part flustered, part I’m talking to a crazy man.
I don’t want her to feel insulted. Used. A woman like her, she deserves to be appreciated by her man. Adored. Lavished with attention and affection. Praise and devotion.
If it wasn’t for Cole, I’d lavish her with all the sexual affection she deserves—maybe put her on her knees and teach her some manners, too; show her what it’s like to be with a real man, maybe help her get over her shithead ex and whatever other little boys are in her past. As soon as possible. Which is in exactly forty-six days. But telling her so would just invite questions I can’t answer.
I’ll be honest with her about everything I can, but that means everything but the game.
“I’ll treat you with respect,” I tell her. “The way your brother would want me to treat you.”
She stares at me, her cheeks flushed, but doesn’t respond to that.
Our appetizers come, three different locally sourced dishes, and the distraction seems to ease the tension a bit. We taste the food, avoiding the elephant that’s just sat its ass right down between us.
I ask her what she thinks of the food. The presentation, the aromas, the textures, and, of course, the flavors.
When the empty dishes are cleared away, and we sit back with refilled wineglasses to await the entrées, I say, “You’re taking this all very calmly.”
She’d seemed uncomfortable with the conversation, sure. But she hasn’t said no to my proposal.
She hasn’t said yes yet either.
“I’m getting the feeling this is normal to you,” she says carefully. “So I’m trying not to freak out.”
“Normal.” I consider that. “What about it seems normal?”
“Just calmly asking a woman you barely know to get engaged to you as if you’re offering her a job.”
“It’s not a job.”
“You showed as much emotion when you hired me to be your gardener.”
That gives me pause. “I’m trying not to make it emotional. It doesn’t have to be.”
The conversation is interrupted again as our entrées are served. Thick, tender slabs of Pacific halibut, the white fish drizzled with Sea Salt citrus gin-infused sauce and layered atop a crab cake, paired with grilled vegetables. Simple West Coast fare, but impeccably prepared.
I give Megan some time to enjoy it before pressing her for an answer.
“Tell me, honestly, what you think of my proposal.”
“I don’t know what I think.” She dabs her mouth with a linen napkin. “I’m sorry. This just doesn’t make any sense to me.”
“What part of it?”
“All of it.” She looks at me uneasily, like she’s still waiting for the hidden film crew to leap from the shadows as I shout Gotcha! “It’s just odd to me that you’re suggesting an engagement like it’s some business deal.”
“Well, we’re negotiating a serious contract.”
“Contract?”
“Just verbally. I’m not asking you to sign anything. I just want to make my expectations clear.”
She kind of chews her lip. “Yeah. Nothing more romantic than expectations.”
That throws me.
I wasn’t trying to make it romantic. I brought her for a nice dinner out of respect. And maybe I wanted to give her a glimpse of the life I can offer her for the next year. “I could be more romantic, if you want.”
She sits back in her chair and studies me. “You’re serious.”
“Getting engaged is very serious for me.”
It is. It’s not something I thought I’d ever do, so there’s that.
“I mean… you’d be romantic if I wanted you to?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“Fake romantic.”
“You’d be my fiancée. That part would be real. There would be a ring. And money you’d have access to.”
“Money?” she echoes softly.
“Yes. Two million seems reasonable. Unless you think it doesn’t.”
I think I’ve floored her. I’m starting to understand that look on her face.
It’s not terror. It’s utter shock.
“You’d give me money?”
“I’d give you whatever you want.”
She swallows more wine. “This is… weird.”
“I guess I can see how it would be.”
I know she didn’t expect this proposal. But it’s an easy decision, isn’t it? Whatever worries she might have, I can take care of them.
I can take care of her.
Maybe I failed to make that part clear. “You’ll have a home, access to any funds you need to get back on your feet. Without having to ask your brother for it or share an apartment with a bunch of people.” Wasn’t that what she wanted, ultimately?
She just keeps staring at me. “Right. So that’s what’s in it for me. What’s really in it for you?”
“Well… you. As my fiancée. Which, as I mentioned, I’m in need of.”
“And how do you know I’m trustworthy?”
“Cole trusts you.”
“But you must know other women. You just met me.”
I consider how to put it. “You’ve made a good impression.”
“How is that possible? I threw mud on your couch and made a scene and quit the job you gave me.”
“And in doing so, you impressed my brother.” I hate to say it, because it sounds so damn lame. But. Honesty. “Graysen is my oldest sibling and he’s my boss. He has a lot of say over what happens in our business. And in our grandfather’s estate. Granddad just passed.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. Were you close?”
“Yes. Very. But even so, when a person leaves such wealth behind, it’s not always straightforward what happens with it. There was a will, of course, but there were certain…” I struggle with how to put it without breaking the rules. “My brother has high expectations of me. If I don’t meet them… let’s just say I’ll lose his respect, and lose power and position in my family, much like my uncle did with my father. Eventually, my uncle got disinherited. Or more precisely, paid to go away. There were only the two of them. I have four siblings in line before me.” There. Now she knows there are big stakes on the line for me, without actually getting into the details about Granddad’s will or the game.
She still looks uncertain, though. “But wouldn’t your family prefer that you get engaged to some wealthy socialite or celebrity?”
“No. Because that won’t solve my problem.”
“What problem, exactly?”
I realize I’m being a bit opaque. But fuck.
Do we really need to go there?
I look at my wineglass, twirling it by the stem. “Graysen is tired of the drama he thinks I cause. Or my public image causes. My dating life, I mean. I’m bad for his blood pressure.”
“I know what that’s like,” she says softly. “My brother’s blood pressure probably hasn’t been great lately, thanks to me.”
I meet her eyes. “Then we have that in common.”
She takes another sip of her wine, studying me. “I don’t know you, Jameson,” she concludes.
“Your brother knows me.”
“That’s not the ringing endorsement you seem to think it is.”
“You’ll get to know me.”
“What if I don’t like you? Or you don’t like me? Couples usually need to like each other for things to work out. God. I can’t even believe I’m entertaining this…”
“Okay, first, I’m fairly certain we’ll like each other enough to make this work. Second, relationships aren’t always based on affection. Third, I’m not asking for an ongoing relationship, just a one-year engagement. After that, the will is settled, and I won’t…” Need you anymore.
That sounds… fucking bad.
So instead, I say, “After that, I won’t be so worried about my brother’s opinion of my love life anymore.”
“I see. But we’re not really talking about love. Are we.”
We aren’t, yet the whole time we’ve sat here talking, I’ve barely eaten the amazing food.
Neither has she.
I’m focused only on her, and my heart is beating harder than it should in any mere business negotiation. I’m tense, hyperaware of her every reaction.
“No. We aren’t,” I agree. “I’ll tell you upfront that I’m not going to fall in love. It’s not what I do.”
She stares at me, and it unnerves me.
“Come home with me tonight,” I practically growl. “Then decide.” The words fall out of my mouth, hot with all the lust I feel for her.
Her gorgeous amber eyes go wide in the candlelight, and I know I should’ve worded that differently.
Really need to tamp that down.
Cole wants her home with us. I need to bring her home. Graysen wants this engagement.
I’m just trying to focus on those facts.
But I realize there’s a slight possibility I’m not thinking straight.
I haven’t had that much wine.
But there’s something about Megan that makes me question my own motives. And I don’t do that.
It’s highly confusing. Disorienting.
Maybe I’m slightly intoxicated from staring at her all night?
Is that a thing? Because it sure as fuck feels like it.
“No.” She shakes her head slowly. “I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Won’t.” She tips her chin up a little, flashing that defiant look that makes me want to drag her over my knee. “You’re a terrible distraction, Jameson Vance. But I have some pride. And I’ll be okay.”
“You deserve better than okay,” I growl.
We stare at each other for long moments as my heart pounds.
A terrible distraction.
What, exactly, does that mean?
I’m not totally sure, and it’s making my dick hard.
Finally, she sighs almost under her breath. “I should probably say yes.” She sounds strangely sad about it when she adds, “But my answer is no.”
She says it like this is some kind of ending.
But she just doesn’t know me well enough to know that this isn’t over yet.