16. My Murderous Fiancée
MY MURDEROUS FIANCéE
RAYMOND
A s Willow wraps up her presentation, the room plunges into an eerie silence. My chest feels like it’s caught in a vise, tightening with every second that ticks by. I’m on the verge of losing my cool when Mark starts clapping.
Thank fucking God.
I knew I could count on Mark. He’s part of that rare breed of businessmen who’ve somehow managed to succeed in this field without killing off their emotions.
The applause starts slow but then picks up, spreading throughout the room like wildfire and draining the tension from my shoulders.
Mark leans forward, his eyes twinkling. “Miss Pershing, whatever happened during that coffee break, I’m grateful for it. Otherwise, we’d have missed out on hearing about your connection to the land, the dream you and your grandfather shared. And more importantly, we’d have missed out on a damn good investment.”
Willow’s face lights up with a smile that could power the entire room, and I can’t look away. It’s like watching the sunrise after a long, sleepless night.
Mark raises a brow at me, that knowing grin plastered on his face. “You know why they call Raymond ‘The Shark,’ even though he hates the nickname?” He glances around the room, and I know exactly what’s coming. “It’s because he’s got an eye for finding the best—whether it’s people or projects. And with you, Miss Pershing, he hit the jackpot on both.”
My stomach flips, but this isn’t the usual adrenaline rush I get after a successful meeting. This feels different, too personal.
“I’ve always enjoyed pitches like this,” he continues, his tone thoughtful. “The raw emotion, the passion behind the business—that’s what makes a venture succeed. Heart and drive.”
His gaze shifts between Willow and me, and that grin of his widens, filling me with a new kind of unease. What the hell is he about to say?
“I never thought I’d see the day, Raymond,” he says, almost laughing. “But it looks like you’ve found yourself the perfect business partner. I can see you two being unstoppable.”
And there it is—why this feels different. Because it is different. I’ve partnered with people before, but never have I cared so much about whether they’re seen the way I see them. This isn’t just about the shareholders anymore. This is Willow.
Jack cuts in, slicing through the moment. “Hold on, Mark. Before you start planning their wedding or moving Willow into Raymond’s house?—”
My pulse spikes, but I keep my expression impassive.
“—I’ve still got a question,” he finishes.
I fold my arms over my chest. “Go ahead, Jack.”
He leans back in his chair. “Wasn’t Miss Pershing the same landowner you were trying to convince to sell? Now, instead of building a luxury hotel, you’ve joined forces with her to create a wedding estate? Why the sudden change?”
“In business, plans evolve for the better, Jack. You know that well,” I reply coolly. “Until there’s a shovel in the ground, we have the flexibility to build whatever makes the most sense—whether it’s a hotel, a wedding estate, or even a damn monastery, as long as it’s profitable. Trust me, I’ve crunched the numbers.”
Jack’s mouth remains flat. “But why such a drastic pivot? Why not stick to the original plan? A grand hotel with Miss Pershing overseeing it sounds like a win-win.”
My jaw tightens, and the words slip out before I can stop or rephrase them. “Because this wedding estate matters to Willow. It’s her grandfather’s dream.”
The second I say it, I know I’ve made a mistake.
Jack finally smirks, like he’s been waiting for this. “That’s what I don’t get.” His voice drips with smugness. “Why do we care? No offense, Miss Pershing, but business isn’t run on sentiment. Raymond has never made any decision based on personal feelings. If it were his own grandfather, maybe that’d be different. But why does Elixir Estates care about Miss Pershing’s family?”
The tension in the room is suffocating as every gaze bores into me, waiting for an explanation I don’t have. I’m certainly not going to admit to everyone here that Willow has somehow become important—not just to my daughter but also, slowly, to me.
Damn it, how did I not see this coming? I spent days pushing Willow to be prepared for every question, and here I am, completely blindsided.
I’m scrambling for a logical answer when Archer clears his throat from the far end of the room. “That’s because…well, even if Willow’s grandfather isn’t ours, she’s still family. Raymond and Willow are…engaged.”
“What?”
“What?”
I’ve never heard so many variations of the same word echoed throughout a room at once, and one of them is mine. My eyes lock on to Archer, and if looks could kill, he’d be nothing but a smoldering pile of ash.
“Is this true, Raymond?” Mark’s voice cuts through the chaos as he rises, making a beeline toward me.
Instinct screams at me to deny it. I hate lying more than anything, and I’m about to do just that when Archer—damn him—steps right up beside me, clapping a hand on my shoulder like this was all part of the plan.
“Of course it’s true,” Archer says with infuriating calm. “You know how private Raymond is. He’s never liked sharing his personal life.”
Suddenly, what was supposed to be a meeting about a financial investment turns into an impromptu congratulatory party. The well-wishing begins, and all I can do is stand there, feeling like I’ve been hit by a freight train. In the midst of the chaos, my eyes meet Willow’s. Her expression says it all.
What in the actual hell just happened?
I give her a small nod, hoping it somehow conveys, I’ve got this. We’ll figure it out. But before I can even begin to clean up the mess, Mark appears in front of me.
“You should’ve made the proper introductions, Raymond, but this works too.” He claps me on the back. “You and Willow officially have my approval for the investment.” He then turns to Jack, who’s the only one still rooted to his chair. “What about you, Jack? Are you in now?”
Jack rises slowly, making his way over with all the enthusiasm of someone heading to his own execution. His words are polite, but there’s an edge to his tone. “Congratulations. I’ll admit, this wasn’t what I expected today. Here’s hoping your marriage is as successful as this venture. I’m in.”
The handshake he extends to Willow feels more like a test, and without thinking, I slip my arm around her shoulders and pull her to my side. It’s not a planned move, just instinct.
Jack’s eyebrow shoots up, and Willow glances at me in surprise, but she thankfully plays along, keeping that dazzling smile firmly in place.
So here we stand, like a picture-perfect couple, accepting congratulations—not just for the business but for our so-called engagement.
When everyone finally leaves, I whirl around, and, as if reading my mind, Archer bolts to the opposite end of the glass table, putting as much distance between us as possible. Like that’ll actually protect him.
“I get that you’re ready to kill me, but hear me out first,” he says quickly.
I narrow my eyes, already plotting a dozen ways to wring his neck. “What the fuck did you just do? You know I hate lying.”
“I know, I know. But the truth wouldn’t have saved us today.” He throws his hands up like that somehow absolves him.
“So your solution was to lie for me?” I snap.
“It was better than watching you stand there, torn between blurting out the truth about Quill or keeping her a secret. I didn’t want you forced into revealing her existence before you two were ready.”
My clenched fists loosen a bit. How am I supposed to stay mad at that?
I rake a frustrated hand through my hair. “But this isn’t any better. One lie never stops there. It’s like a bad habit. We don’t even know how many more lies we’ll need to keep this one going.” I shake my head and turn to Willow. “Your turn now. If you need boxing gloves, I’ve got a pair in my office.”
But instead of tearing into Archer like I’d hoped, Willow shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other. “Archer did it for Quill.”
“But there had to be another way. This fake engagement is the worst possible?—”
“Believe me, I’m just as disappointed to be engaged to you,” Willow cuts me off with a deadpan expression.
I can’t help it—a surprised laugh slips out of me.
Archer chuckles from across the table. “I don’t know what you are so worked up about. This is perfect. You both hate each other, so there’s no risk of catching feelings or any of that heartfelt shit. Except…” He taps his chin in mock thought. “You might murder each other in your sleep. So please try to avoid that.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, brother,” I mutter, raising an eyebrow at him.
He grins, completely unapologetic. “You’re welcome. So, what’s next?”
“Next is you getting out of here with all your limbs intact,” I growl. “Willow and I need to figure out how the hell we’re supposed to salvage this mess you’ve created.”
Archer whistles as he heads for the door. “Welcome to the family, Wills. Can’t wait to have another sister-in-law!”
Before I can hurl something at him, he’s gone.
“Holy crap,” Willow mutters, collapsing into a chair. “Can I just pretend this entire day never happened?” She leans back, head tilted toward the ceiling, clearly exhausted. Despite the chaos, she looks…perfect.
Too perfect, actually.
The kind of perfect that doesn’t feel like the real Willow.
The real Willow is the one who doesn’t think twice about asking me to braid her hair. The one who chases her dog around my house like a character in a Saturday morning cartoon. The one who loves spending evenings reading to my daughter while I linger in my office with the door ajar, hoping to catch Quill’s voice—but she’s still heartbreakingly quiet.
And it’s that Willow, the one with messy buns and unapologetic smiles, who’s been getting under my skin. My gaze drifts to the boat neck of her dress, the tattoos hidden under layers of makeup. It’s like she’s scrubbed away the parts of herself I’ve always been drawn to.
“What are you doing, judging if I’m the right fake fiancée material?” she quips, catching me staring.
I snap out of it, meeting her eyes. “You seem a little too eager to play along.”
And just like that, the fire’s back in her eyes. “In case you’ve forgotten, this wasn’t my idea. Your brilliant cousin dropped that bombshell, and now we’re stuck.”
I let out a long breath, sinking into the chair next to her. “We are. So, what do we do now?”
She’s quiet for a moment, and I can’t blame her. In less than a week, she’s gone from businesswoman to nanny to…fake fiancée. It must be fucking torture. Then she surprises me.
“What about Quill?”
My heart stutters. That’s her concern? My daughter? Can this woman get any more perfect?
My throat feels tight as I answer, “I don’t want her dragged into this mess.”
Willow nods. “Agreed.”
“Good,” I say, relieved we’re on the same page about that, at least. “What about your family?”
“No way,” Willow shrieks, rubbing her eyes like she’s trying to erase whatever mental image that thought conjured. “You don’t want to meet my mom and nana. They’re obsessed with weddings. If they catch wind of this, they’ll kidnap you and hold you hostage until you say ‘I do.’”
I laugh, the sound coming out lighter than I expected. “Got it. Anyone else we need to worry about?”
“My friends,” she admits. “I can’t lie to them. Not about something this big.”
“Same with my cousins. If Rowan doesn’t already know, I’d be shocked. Archer tells him everything.”
“Yikes,” Willow mutters. “Glad I’m not one of their girlfriends.”
I grin. “I’m sure they have some boundaries.”
“That’s…comforting.” Then all of a sudden, Willow sticks out her hand. “So, we’re doing this?”
Her outstretched hand brings me back to our first meeting at La Bella Vita, when she offered me a partnership. Except now, things have changed more than either of us could have imagined. We’re not just business partners anymore—we’re fake fiancés.
“If you walk away to take a phone call this time, I’ll be slamming this hand right over your head.”
I laugh, sliding my palm into hers. “Not a chance, Firefly. Wouldn’t want my fiancée going to jail for murdering me.”