Chapter 8
Grayson
Ishake my head, smothering my smile, hardly able to believe the past few minutes just happened.
Well… that was entertaining.
It felt like watching an intense chess match—or maybe a tennis rally—any game where two evenly matched players test each other's limits.
There'd been no clear winner, but I have to say, Jenna surprised me.
I didn't expect her to hold up that well against my sister's imposing demeanor, especially since Steph was quite obviously turning it up a notch for this brunch.
When Jenna was distracted by a waiter refilling her glass, my sister sent me a quick wink of approval, though I'd already spotted the hint of admiration in Steph's eyes.
That might not sound like much. In Steph's world, it could just mean she's found a fresh way to piss off our parents and is relishing the chaos. She's also not sure whether this thing between Jenna and me is fake or real—and the thrill of not knowing makes it all the more entertaining for her.
Even so, the whole exchange confirms what I'd half-thought before, dismissed, and now find myself considering again… Jenna as my fake fiancée.
She doesn't tick every box—not even close—but she ticks the one that matters most. The one no one else has managed to tick.
She has strength. The kind of self-possession that lets her stand her ground while somehow winning people over at the same time.
That's critical for any wife-to-be of mine—fake or not—if she's going to survive more than five minutes in front of my delightful parents.
Besides, the alternative is slogging through a tedious process of finding someone else convincing enough for Steph to buy the act, and that's time I just don't have.
"What?" Jenna asks again. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Because…" I trail off, still turning the idea over. Making Jenna my fake fiancée would be risky. She doesn't come from the kind of background my mother would approve of, and her job—though respectable—is one my mother would dismiss as something for a bored housewife.
Still, the relationship already sells itself. Somehow, I seem to have pulled it off by accident. Steph totally believes we're dating. If I told her it was real, she'd probably buy it.
Thanks to that impromptu Q he manages the European sector.
Technically, I hold more power now, but that's only because my instincts are better.
He's learning fast, though, and if my father decides to make him CEO, there's not much I can say. "
"I still don't understand. If you're better than your brother, why would your father hand the position to him?"
"Because Dad wants the company to stay in the family, and he's not confident I'll ever have kids. My brother George isn't as sharp, but he's engaged. They've basically given up on me settling down. That's why."
"But… that's ridiculous!"
"There's not much to it," I say. "I need my family to think I've found a wife, and you need a million dollars. Sounds like a match made in heaven."
"Maybe. But why me? Why not one of the women you're already seeing?"
There's an edge under that word women, like she's picturing an entire harem at my beck and call. I probably could have one if I wanted. I just don't.
"They won't do," I say simply. "I picked you because of how you handled my sister."
"You mean because I stood up to her?"
"Precisely. Steph's the way she is because she's a spoiled brat—and my parents are ten times worse. They've made plenty of my exes cry, and I don't want to go through that again." I don't want to put her through it either.
"Do you visit often?" she asks.
I shrug. "Often enough. Probably more once they hear I'm engaged."
She exhales sharply and rakes a hand through her hair. "Let me get this straight—you want me to play the role of your fake fiancée for a few months…"
"Six months," I correct.
"For six months," she repeats. "And in return, I get a million dollars?"
"Yes."
"And then what?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, what happens at the end? I'm not actually marrying you, if that's what you think."
"Oh, no. At the end of six months, we'll have a disagreement and split up. One of those things. Very sad. Somehow, I'll just have to get over you."
"So then won't your father give the CEO role to your brother anyway?"
"No. He knows I'm the better choice, and as long as he thinks I'm genuinely trying to find a wife, he'll be satisfied.
Besides, the board have to appoint someone within the next five months.
It's in the regulations. By that time I'll already have been appointed and kicking me out would look really bad for the company, so they won't do that. "
She mulls it over, eyes unfocused as she weighs the options.
"If I say yes," she asks, "you'll pay back all the costs we've accrued for you so far—no arguments?"
I can practically see the math scrolling through her head. A million dollars isn't much to me, but for someone like Jenna it's a life-changer. Another few tens of thousands either way makes no difference to me, so if it sweetens the deal…
"All right. I'll agree to that. But in return, you'll have to come and live with me—and you start straight away."
Her expression tightens, eyes narrowing. "What do you mean I have to live with you? Are you trying to turn me into some kind of prost—"
"No, no, of course not. Nothing like that. Our relationship would be purely platonic. But as my fiancée, my family will expect you to live with me. You'll have your own room, obviously. It only needs to look like we're a couple—but it does need to look real."
"Oh. Okay… yeah, I think I get it."
She stands there thinking, one hip cocked, lips pressed together.
I can see temptation flickering in her eyes.
How strong is it? Strong enough to do this?
She needs the money—that much is clear. Something about the way she's chased those expenses tells me she can't afford to refuse. Still, it's an unusual request.
She looks so serious, her posture firm and deliberate. Good enough to eat. No. I mustn't think that way anymore. This is business now.
Finally, she looks up, a slow, deliberate smile curving her lips.
"Where do I sign?"