Chelsea
The afternoon goes by in a blur. Jackson and I are pulled in different directions as soon as we walk into Dillan Knot’s enormous house. Knot takes Jackson to brief him on the venue and discuss further plans with the admiral. I’m left out simply because hair, nails, and makeup take forever, and the techs are waiting to transform me into the socialite of the century.
Four hours later, I’m waxed, smoothed, painted, pampered, and styled to within an inch of my life. Apart from feeling like an overworked lab rat, I look amazing. I’m genuinely stunned by the reflection staring back at me when the technicians finish.
A knock sounds on the door of my borrowed suite, but I can’t look away from the mirror to see who it is. A gasp and mumbled curse have me turning around to see Jackson in a similar state of polish, minus the makeup and nails.
He’s openly gawking until I prop a hand on my hip. “If you keep making that face, it’ll freeze like that.”
Jackson shakes his head and smiles sadly. “I’m jealous of myself. Here I am, staring at the most beautiful woman in Virginia, and I can only pretend she’s mine.”
His words paralyze me. I don’t know how to respond. Luckily, Knot and his wife save me from doing so when they push past Jackson to enter the room.
“Oh my God,” Trish squeals. “You look perfect.”
For the first time in my adult life, I agree.
Knot clears his throat and nudges Jackson with an elbow before addressing me. “Let’s get you up to speed and on the road.”
The four of us walk to the living room, where Knot details the evening’s plan. Except for his reaction upstairs, Jackson hasn’t spoken a word.
“I set up an account with twenty-five thousand dollars for the fundraiser. Don’t be assholes but make a splash. Remember, we want this guy sniffing after you for campaign donations. It’s casino night, so play what you like and act natural. The limo will drop you back off at Knot Corp. later. Jackson, Wrench took the liberty of hotwiring your truck. It’s parked next to ’s ride.”
Knot ushers Jackson and me out the door, where a black stretch limo waits. The CEO of Knot Corp. regards us carefully but doesn’t voice what’s in his eyes. He doesn’t think we look believable.
I cozy up to Jackson, bringing a hand to his chest and leaning against his shoulder. Jackson picks up on what I’m doing, wrapping an arm around me and kissing the top of my head. I let my eyes drift closed momentarily and then check my boss again. “That better?”
He grunts. “Make sure you stay in character the whole time.”
Knot walks off, and Jackson releases me to open the door. “Like I said. Hell of an actress.”
I elbow him playfully and step inside the lavish interior. The driver closes the door behind my fake husband, and I take a moment to admire my loaner wedding ring. The engagement ring is not one I would ever pick. It’s way too big and flashy for my practical style. I suppose it will serve its purpose, which is to attract attention. Jackson wears a much simpler platinum band.
“Is there anything else I need to know about you before stepping out of this car again?” Jackson asks. “Like maybe an allergy I should watch out for?”
“Nope. I’m only allergic to social gatherings. What about you?”
Jackson laughs at my self-deprecating comment. “None for me, though, like Bastien Laurent, I have an awful reaction to bullshit.”
“Great. We should turn around now, then. You do realize all the ass-kissing and posturing you’ll have to do tonight, right?”
“Not me. You,” he says with a tap on my nose. “I get to go as myself. You’re the heiress who saddled herself with a roughneck.”
Assuming my best hostess face and voice, I cup Jackson’s cheek. “Aww, honey. I’m sure you have some worthwhile qualities buried somewhere deep down.”
Jackson’s eyes turn feral. He leans into my hand and whispers, “Yeah, I know a good woman when I see one.”