Chapter 18 Shouldn’t This Come with Make-Up Sex? #2
She blinked like an owl, clearly unimpressed. I wasn’t sure how to react. My sister and Violeta went to Paris and Milan twice yearly for couture fittings and spent God knew what on all the things I’d just mentioned. Simone had blown off a stylist to sit with old people at a hospital ward.
Once again, I was fumbling as I tried to find something to convince her that this arrangement wasn’t going to be the disaster she clearly thought it was.
“Also, per the contract, you’ll be moving in with me,” I blurted out. “Today.”
Pink colored her cheeks. “‘Cohabitation.’ Yes, we already talked about this. Ruth showed up today to pack.”
“Are you still okay with that?”
“You’re asking?”
I found myself nodding.
I was asking? After the fact?
Yes, apparently, I was.
“Like I said, it’s for appearances only. But my apartment is quite large—you can have your own floor if that’s what you want. And the kitchen has plenty of room to bake or cook or whatever you want. We don’t have to interact much when we’re there.”
I was babbling now like a fucking child or one of Shea’s lovestruck friends. I sounded like a goddamn brook.
Her eyes grew wide. “Your apartment consists of multiple floors?”
“Just two. It’s a penthouse.”
“‘Just two,’” she repeated with a cheeky smile that made my heart give another massive thump. “So, one for each person.”
“Plus staff. It overlooks most of the city. You’ll like it.”
I hoped she liked it. I wanted her to like it.
“Any other surprises I should be expecting? Or plans I need to be aware of?”
“Didn’t Ruth go over everything with you?” I frowned as I toyed with her ring. I should have let go of her hand, but I really didn’t want to. “We should probably get you your own scheduling assistant. It will save us some time.”
“I don’t mind the extra time. Figuring out details and schedules gives us something to talk about, don’t you think? What’s next, since clearly the photo ops aren’t happening today.”
At that, I fully scowled, but not at the broken schedule. She thought it would be hard to talk to me?
I grabbed my phone off the desk and flicked through my calendar. “Soon, we’ll be having dinner with my family, provided my father’s recovered enough for it. An engagement party will be two months from now, if not sooner, probably at the house in Newport.”
“I don’t suppose that will be a private, intimate gathering with your closest friends?”
I snorted. “What close friends?”
She didn’t laugh. In fact, when I looked up, she was eyeing me with something that looked like pity.
I stared right back. “Look, Simone, these parties aren’t about you or me. None of it is. We’ll be inviting my family, board members, business associates, and a bunch of people who will make the board members think I’m an upstanding person. All you have to do is be your angelic self.”
She still looked uneasy but eventually nodded. “I…of course. That’s what you’re paying me for.”
“There will be other events,” I went on. “My social calendar is full of shit I’m forced to go to, and I’ll need you with me to demonstrate that we’re a unit, and I’m the ‘stable family man’ they want.”
The more I spoke, the more she seemed to retreat into herself. By the time I was done, she was staring blankly at our joined hands like she thought they might disappear.
I pulled on hers, beckoning her full attention. “Simone?”
Did I imagine that blue gaze flicker to my mouth again?
I must have.
But I didn’t babble now. I had something more important to say. Something that made me feel ill, but that she—and apparently I—needed to hear nonetheless.
“That small, intimate engagement you’re dreaming of, angel? The wedding with friends and family and joy and love and happiness? One day, you’ll have it.”
Another flicker of twinkling blue. “I will?”
God, she almost looked hopeful. “Without a doubt. But, baby, it won’t be with me.”
The twinkling lights dulled. “Oh.”
“Which is why it’s better that everything about this arrangement be the polar opposite of what you want. A smart girl like you won’t confuse things. And I know you won’t fall in love.”
That was when the lights extinguished completely. Something flared deep in my chest in response. No.
“O-of course I won’t,” she whispered.
“Of course you won’t,” I repeated. “And neither will I.”
Even then I probably knew I was lying.
Deep down, I knew.
We stared at each other for several more long moments while my heart gave a few more hard thumps. Simone looked like she wanted to say something. Or take back something.
And maybe I wanted to do that too.
Before I could do either, we were interrupted by a knock on the door. Ruth’s head popped in. She exchanged a glance with Simone, then turned back to me with an unreadable expression as she held up a thick manila envelope.
“Here you go, Mr. Black. Ms. Bishop.”
Simone reddened. “Hello, Ruth.”
I took the envelope, which was clearly labeled with Simone’s name. “Thanks, Ruth.”
My assistant’s brows lifted—no doubt at my uncharacteristic display of gratitude—before she ducked out.
I handed the envelope to Simone. “For you.”
Gingerly, she peeked inside. “What’s this?”
“Everything you’ll need moving forward. The access code and address to my—our—apartment.
A security key for the office so you don’t have to check in every time you come here.
Paperwork for bank accounts in your name and a black American Express card for any incidentals you might incur during your term of…
service. Clothes, cosmetics, whatever else you think is necessary. ”
Simone looked through the contents. “A stylist was supposed to come by my apartment today. I feel bad now. I blew her and Ruth off.”
“Ruth has seen worse, and she can reschedule. But you’ll need it. People will expect my partner to have a certain…look.”
Looking pale, she set the envelope on her lap like a bomb that might go off if she moved too quickly and stared at it for a moment. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. It’s part of the deal.” Unable to stop myself, I set my palm over her knuckles and squeezed.
She squeezed back. “You seem to have a lot of faith in my ability to pull this off, but honestly, I’m kind of worried.
I already screwed up once today, and I can’t help feeling like it might happen again.
There were a lot of things I feel like I should know about you and your life that I just don’t. ”
An idea struck. And to be honest, I felt like an idiot for not thinking of it before now. “Would it make you feel better if we did something more social? Like a date?”
Her head lifted. “A date? Like, a real one?”
“Define real.” Then I shrugged. Maybe I didn’t want an answer to that. “We’re engaged. We should be seen socializing outside of large events. That’s what people who are in love do, right?”
“I…I would think so.”
I only just stopped myself from asking why she didn’t know.
Simone Bishop had to have been in love before, right?
I was honestly shocked she wasn’t already taken.
Not that it would have stopped me from buying her service anyway.
“Besides, you’re right,” I went on. “We should get to know each other better if we’re going to pull this off.”
“Right.” She nodded.
“Go home. Pack up the rest of your things and take the rest of the day to…adjust. I’ll pick you up there at seven, and after our date, I’ll take you home. Ruth will reschedule the photo ops for a different time.”
“Seven,” she repeated. “Where will we go?”
“It’s a surprise.” Honestly, I had no idea.
But for some reason, I didn’t want to delegate the task to Ruth.
“In the spirit of getting to know one another, why don’t we split the date?
You pick the first place—anywhere at all that you’d like to show me—and I’ll do the same for a second destination. ”
Simone seemed to consider the idea. “All right.”
She stood, envelope in hand, and I accompanied her to the door, which I opened for her, apparently still pretending to be a gentleman I definitely was not.
She turned back to me, that shy smile playing over her delicate features again. “I’ll, um, see you tonight, Brendan. And thank you. For listening.”
Before I could stop myself, I slipped a hand around her waist and pressed a kiss to her cheek, taking my time to inhale her sweet floral scent—yes, definitely lilacs, blended with freshly baked bread and a hint of butter.
It took everything I had not to pull her closer and kiss her like I really wanted.
Like I meant it.
Unfortunately, I never would.
“Tonight, angel,” I murmured, enjoying the way the skin just under her ear pebbled under my breath.
She shivered, but I knew she wasn’t cold.
“Tonight,” she repeated.
It couldn’t come soon enough.