Chapter 27
The text came in early Sunday morning. I’d expected it to be Anderson. Something about making sure I wear the right clothes or say the right thing or use the right fork. He’s been tutoring me in etiquette lessons he’s convinced I’ve never had. He’s right about that, but a long time ago, I’d googled and YouTubed everything I could on etiquette to be able to mix with my high-end clientele. No sense in losing an account because I drank my soup the wrong way. I’m not new. But, I want to impress his dad, so I’ve put up with it for a couple of days.
Today, though, the text was from work.
One of our clients is having some sort of emotional breakdown, so it’s all hands on deck. Hoorah. Catering to whiny babies is one of the many reasons I need out of the firm. Any other day, I could lie and say I love my job. Today, though, I’m nervous enough about supper with the West parents. I do not need this on top of that.
But no one asked me. No one ever does. Which means I have to muscle through today and muscle through tonight. I can have my own personal breakdown come Monday morning.
This would all be less grating if I had my money already. Of course, it would be. That would mean I could be done with this job. I groan in my bed and fling the covers off. Staying in bed longer and wallowing in my misfortune is not going to change anything.
Today changes things. It will change everything. It has to. I don’t know what I’ll do if this doesn’t work.
No use thinking like that. Let’s go.
I haul out of bed and get ready for work. Sunday should be a day of rest and relaxation, or in my case, it should be a day-long existential crisis about lying to a man I don’t even know so I can get my ill-gotten gains. Either way, it should not be a day of work.
But maybe this is a blessing in disguise. Going to work will keep me from freaking out all day about tonight. Can’t have an existential crisis while consoling a giant wealthy baby.
My day disproves my theory.
As I’m coaxing a man off a metaphorical ledge, I’m also wondering if he’s wrong to be on said metaphorical ledge. In fact, maybe he’s the sane one between us. Either way, I’m multitasking—work and personal crisis—all day long, and it is exhausting. Thankfully, they also brought in Callie for today, so I have her to whine to. “… it’s a lot, Cal.”
“That was him at the bar, wasn’t it?”
I nod.
“Good god, honey. He’s a keeper.”
I laugh and shake my head. “I did tell you about the years and years of bullying, right?”
She nods. “But it sounds like he’s doing everything in his power to make this right with you. Maybe he’s changed.”
“You’re only saying this because he’s a walking panty-wetter.”
“Are you saying I’m shallow?”
“I love you, Callie, but you make saucers look deep.”
She giggles hard at me. “Yeah, well. Just because I have my priorities in order doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
“Oh, really?”
“I like my men hot, well moneyed, and smart. I don’t think that’s a detriment to anyone.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“And besides, is it so wrong that I want you paired up with someone on Daniel’s social rung? It would make double dating easier.”
I smile at her. “You’re hopeless, my dear.”
“So, what are you wearing for the big night?”
I pull out the garment bag from my deep desk drawer to show her. “Nothing too flashy—I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard, you know?” After I unzip, I get her gaze of approval.
“That’s perfect. Simple cream sweater dress, boots?”
I nod. “Brown knee boots.”
“Classic, sexy without being over the top, respectable neckline … I’d say you nailed it.”
“Thanks. That means a lot from you.” I pack it all back again. “I just hope Anderson agrees.”
“He will. He’s probably more nervous than you are. Seeing you in that will calm him down some, I’m sure of it. And as far as you? What will you tell them that you do?”
“For that, we’ve decided to go with the truth. I have a good job, something that won’t set off their alarm bells. For their intents and purposes, I am a financial catch, funny as that is.”
“And what causes will you champion when the topic gets brought up?”
“Huh?”
She smiles. “Thought so. You have to be able to rattle off some charitable organization you’re involved in. People like the Wests must be involved in the community. Rumor has it Elliot West rides Anderson hard because he wants a Senator in the family one day.”
That idea starts a cascade of laughter that I cannot hold back. When I look up at her, I’m the only one in on the joke. “The Senator and the hooker. It’s too much for my pea-sized brain to handle right now, Callie.”
“Oh please, you’re hardly that. Besides, high-end escorts are nothing to be ashamed of, you pulled in quite the haul.”
“Theoretically.”
She shrugs. “It’s only a matter of time before he pays up. You said it yourself.”
“Yeah, but believing that takes a lot of faith at the moment.”
“Speaking of your interesting reunion night, what will you tell them about how you met?”
“School.”
“Ah.” She nods once.
“We figure sticking as close to the truth as possible will be the easiest tactic. Lying about little things would only muddy things up. No sense in that.”
“That makes sense. You have enough going on without adding to it.” She pauses. “Client gonna make it?”
I can’t stop from rolling my eyes. “When their biggest worry is whether Uncle Sam will find a few hundred k to tax, it’s hard for me to get my sympathy up for them. Yeah, he’ll make it. He’s looking at a smaller tax burden than most lawyers normally have, and he has several hundred million stashed around the world. Can’t say I’ll be up tonight worrying about him.”
“Well, that’s good. You have enough on your plate.”
“Speaking of, I have to get ready. Anderson will be here soon to pick me up.”
“Good luck tonight, June. Break a leg.”
I chuckle to myself. “Guess I’m making my acting debut, huh?”
“Nah. Pretty sure that happened every night in bed with Trent.”
That earns a laugh. A bitter, sad little laugh. “You’re not wrong.”
I grab the garment bag and my boots to change in the bathroom. Once everything is on, I check myself a dozen times in the mirror. Callie says it’s a suitable outfit and I trust her on these things, but I’m still tugging the sweater dress to stop it from hugging my curves so much. It fits, but it’s fitted, and I’m not used to that.
When I come out of the bathroom, though, I get a low whistle from her. “You’ll knock him dead.”
“Not before I get my money.”
“Have fun tonight.”
Fun? How can I think about having fun tonight? I’m going into the lion’s den. But she means well. “I’ll try.”
The trip in the elevator feels like I’m sinking to Hell itself. Like when the doors open, there will be an inferno about to engulf me. I don’t enjoy lying to parents. Little white lies? Sure. I’m fine, how are you? Sure, I caught that play. I love the Red Sox. Little white lies that mean nothing in the grand scheme of things.
But pretending to be Anderson’s fiancée is a huge one. For all I know, his parents could be perfectly lovely people, excited to meet me because I’m the first girl he’s brought home. Disappointing parents is something I am hard-wired to hate doing. Thanks, Mom. So this feels incredibly wrong.
But four-hundred thousand dollars feels incredibly right.
I’ve committed to this, and I’m doing it. I am not backing out because of guilt or any other pointless reason. When the doors open, there’s no inferno. Only the lobby. Strolling through, I wave at the security guards like I always do, and walk out to the canopy in front of the building. The weather is freezing and wet, but I hardly notice it because Anderson is there, leaning on his shiny sports car. I don’t know cars very well, but I’ve never seen its equal. The car is low to the ground and sleek beyond need. A showing off car. It’s so black, it looks like it drinks the light. He smirks and opens the door. “Your chariot awaits.”
I laugh and roll my eyes before stepping into the car. I hadn’t thought it was built for comfort as well as speed, but I was wrong. The sumptuous black leather seats swallow me with ease, like sitting in a spa chair for a treatment.
He closes my door, then joins me in the driver’s seat. Anderson’s eyes rake over my body, making my thighs clench. What the hell. His deep voice rumbles, “Are you ready for this?”
“Only if you drive near the speed limit.”
“Such a good girl, aren’t you, June? For tonight, let’s be bad.”
His words caress every intrusively dangerous thought I’ve had about him since our night together. It’s too close to what he said about going down on me, and I can’t help but think he chose those words on purpose to do exactly what they are doing to me.
I clear my throat, trying to think. “The speed limit, Anderson. If you want me to be on my best behavior with your parents and not a frazzled wreck, then you will get me there in one sane piece.”
“Have it your way.”
I plan to.