Chapter 18
WAKE
RHODES
I wasn’t sure why I found Rory so compelling in her sweats—particularly after she’d worn that revealing dress—but I did.
I don’t know why it charmed me that she ate the rest of my cake, but it did.
I wasn’t sure why sitting next to her on the bed, talking about planning our wedding—which was just for show, mind you—had me Feeling Things, but it did.
As someone averse to experiencing feelings of any kind, I had no idea what was happening.
So I did what any man in my position would do: I turned on sports.
“Oh—it’s the subway series,” I said, snuggling back against my pillows. “In case you were wondering, I’m a Yankees fan.”
“Of course you are.” Rory scowled at me. “In case you were wondering, I’m a Mets fan.”
“No one’s a Mets fan,” I countered.
“I am!” She gave me a sharp look. “They’re my Grammy’s team. She grew up in Queens. We’ve always rooted for them.”
“How can you root for them?” I asked, incredulous. “All they do is implode.”
“Not this year.” She stubbornly stuck out her chin.
“Spoken like a true Mets fan.”
Rory gave me side-eye. “Can you turn it up, please? I don’t need to be talking to my mortal enemy, the Yankees fan.”
We watched the game, intermittently arguing over calls and plays. I smirked when the Yankees won by four runs. “See? I told you.”
She shrugged. “It’s game one of a three-game series. We can come back.”
“Spoken like a true Mets fan,” I said again.
“Spoken like a true, spoiled, rich, evil-empire Yankees fan,” she countered, then turned over on her side, away from me.
“Good night, Rory.”
“Good night, Rhodes.” She sounded as if she might still be giving me side eye.
Undeterred, I got under the covers, smiling in the darkness. I was aware of her next to me. She’d gotten into bed still dressed in her sweats. She was giving me the cold shoulder.
And yet, tonight was the most fun I’d had in ages.
Recognizing that I had no idea what that meant, I did what any man would do: I fell asleep.
When I woke the next morning, Rory was snuggled against me. At some point, she’d thrown the covers off—she must’ve gotten hot in her clothes—but then maybe she’d gotten cold, because she was burrowed against me like she was seeking shelter. Our faces were inches apart.
In the early morning light, she looked peaceful and impossibly young. She was innocent, I realized. The only thing the girl had asked for at our wedding was that my nephew be included, and also, that I pick out her dress so she wouldn’t be embarrassed.
And chocolate cake with fudge frosting.
What would it be like, I wondered, to truly have someone like Rory in my life?
I’d never met someone like her before. Any woman I encountered knew who I was—a Barrington—and cared.
A lot. Being a billionaire meant that everyone had something to gain from me.
I always felt like my wealth precluded me from having any sort of real relationship.
Rory had never heard the name Barrington before accepting this job.
She didn’t seem to care about my immense wealth, except for helping her family.
Her world was removed from mine, with a vastly different set of cares and concerns.
She seemed happiest wearing sweats, playing outside with my nephew, and eating a cheeseburger.
She was the most normal person—maybe the only normal person?—I’d ever met.
I wondered if her time at Barrington Manor would change all of that, would change her. My experience told me that it absolutely would. But as she burrowed against my chest, her face peaceful and unselfconscious in sleep, I secretly hoped that I was wrong.
My attorney, Alan, scheduled a video chat with me later that morning.
“Rhodes, you’re looking well,” he said.
“Thank you, Alan. I’d return the compliment, but I know that’s not why you’re calling. What’s up?”
“I heard from the board—your fiancé’s premiere went over well. In other words, they believed it,” he said.
I sat back in my chair. “That’s great news.” I wondered how Miranda was feeling this morning. “Was there anything specific?”
“The collective feedback is that she’s a lovely young woman, you’re a lucky guy, and that you seem genuinely happy.” Alan watched me closely. “In fact, Abigail Furst said you looked ‘whipped.’ That was the word she used. She said you couldn’t keep your hands off of her.”
I smirked. “I don’t know about that.”
“It just got me thinking about this girl,” Alan continued. “So I called the escort agency. I spoke with the owner, Elena.”
A pit formed in my stomach. “And?”
“And I found out a couple of things I didn’t know previously.”
I steeled myself and waited.
“First of all, the girl’s mother has a criminal record. Elena said this was in the disclosures—I double checked, and it’s mentioned that she was arrested recently for property damage. Something about a hotel room in Nashville. Were you aware?”
“No.” I scowled at him. “You should have caught that.”
Alan nodded. “I already fired the associate who did the initial review, but you’re right. I missed it.”
“It doesn’t change anything, though,” I said. “Rory didn’t lie about it, she disclosed it, the agency disclosed it—we just didn’t flag it.”
Alan held up his hands. “I’m not saying she did anything wrong. Not at all. But one other thing Elena told me caught me off guard. Did you know that Rory is a virgin?”
My cheeks heated. For some reason, having my attorney talk about my fake fiancé’s sex life, or lack thereof, felt wrong. “I don’t really see why you’re bringing this up.”
“I asked if you were aware,” Alan said drily. “We discussed everything else about this girl only two days ago. I don’t think it’s off-limits to bring up her sexual history, seeing as you’ve signed a contract to marry her.”
It was true, Alan and I had discussed the girl at length.
When we’d drafted the contract, I hadn’t even met Rory.
I’d thought of her only as a commodity, a necessary pawn in my long-term game.
But now I caught myself feeling protective of her.
She’s a virgin? Rory really was as innocent as I’d thought…
“I’m only bringing it to your attention so that you’re aware. You need to know what you’re dealing with. When I heard that you were falling all over her last night—”
“I wasn’t falling all over her—”
“Those were Abigail’s words, not mine,” Alan said mildly. “But that observation, in conjunction with the mother’s recent criminal activity, and the fact that the girl has zero prior experience…”
His voice trailed off, and he frowned.
“What?” I asked. “Just spit it out, Alan.”
“I just want you to be careful. That’s all. Don’t get in over your head with this girl. Remember that this is a business transaction, one that’s designed to protect your legacy. The stakes are incredibly high, Rhodes.”
“I know that,” I snapped. “By the way, just so you hear it from me first? We’re going to tell everyone that we’d like to start a family. We want to give Luke cousins to grow up with.”
Alan arched an eyebrow. “Is that your plan?”
“It’s my fake plan—just like my engagement, and my marriage. This was all my idea, remember? I know what I’m doing, Alan.”
“Of course you do.”
“I have to go.” I closed my laptop and turned to the window. The sun was shining; it was another bright, breezy morning at Barrington Manor. But the high I’d felt after waking up with Rory snuggled next to me was fading.
I felt mildly ashamed that I’d been described as tripping over myself last night, but… Wasn’t that appropriate? I was newly engaged. Rory was my fiancé. My fake fiancé, but still.
That shouldn’t cause me shame, and it wouldn’t have, except—what if it was true?
I had felt a little giddy as I’d slid my hand over her bare back, the feel of her skin electric against mine.
And I hadn’t just asked her to leave early to avoid the boring dinner and my snake of a stepmother—although those were both motivating factors.
I’d asked her because I wanted to be alone with her.
And we’d had fun.
But fun wasn’t the point. Alan was right, my family’s legacy was the point. And Rory was just a necessary distraction, someone I’d hired to legitimize my claim.
Still, Alan’s announcement stunned me. She’s a virgin?
Untouched and pure, Rory had slept right next to me for the past two nights.
What would it be like to claim her, to be her first?
The thought had my dick rising to attention, so I quickly squashed the flood of tantalizing images parading across my brain.
Rory in that dress. Rory out of that dress. Rory on top of me. Rory under me.
Enough! Down boy.
It would be ill-advised to have such impure thoughts about the girl.
She was essential to the success of my plan.
As Alan said, my agreement with her was a business transaction, one designed to protect my company.
Taking Rory’s virginity would further complicate an almost impossible situation.
It would be too much. She might want something from me that I had zero interest in giving.
Keep your eye on the ball, Rhodes.
I sighed. And then, for better—or more likely, for worse—I re-opened my laptop and resumed planning my wedding.