Chapter 4 Olivia
OLIVIA
While John’s offer is enticing on many levels, it is not a done deal yet. If he doesn’t agree to all my terms, I’m out. And I’m definitely not saying that this is one of the main reasons I am considering accepting this arrangement.
However.
My hand accidentally brushed past something once, years ago.
It was tucked into the right leg of his jeans, it was harder and bigger than I ever would have expected, and I would have a fake relationship with that thing in a heartbeat if I weren’t so confounded by the person it’s attached to.
My brother’s best friend is not only financially prosperous now, but he has always been genitally abundant.
Until today, that moment when I brushed past that thing in his pants was the only time it had occurred to me that my infuriating attraction to Johnny might not have been unrequited.
When I was younger, back when he wasn’t actively avoiding me, being around him felt like being in a room with a fly.
Always aware of the constant buzzing of his brain, never quite knowing when he’d zip past me.
Always ready to swat him away if he landed near me.
And when I realized he wasn’t around, I panicked that he might have starved to death because he had forgotten to eat.
It’s in a dancer’s nature to be up for anything, and I am up for this.
Obviously I’d love to take time off from waiting tables to go to London and the Cotswolds and New York and my hometown.
But there’s something about this whole scenario that intrigues me.
Johnny Brandt has graduated from annoyance to enigma, and I want to know more about him.
Every single term he has verbally specified is included in the contract, including the exact amount I make in two weeks times five. “How did you know how much money I make?”
“Research, observation, instinct.” He shrugs.
“You’ll note that there is a nondisclosure agreement built in,” he says.
“Aside from my chief of staff, no one else will know about this arrangement, including my personal assistant, Sanjay. Or any of our family members or friends, including your roommate. It’s important for them to believe things happened between us in the way that things normally happen when people start dating. ”
“Like swiping right, you mean? You want me to lie to my family—to their faces? When we’re in Cleveland?”
“Perhaps by then it won’t be a lie.”
I don’t even laugh at that. I just stare at him. I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.
“Stranger things have happened,” he says. “Regardless, by then I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable with the arrangement.”
“The ruse.”
“Such a stickler for words, Miss Montgomery. And here I thought you preferred to speak body language.”
“I do, but you aren’t exactly fluent in it.”
He quirks a brow. “Is that what you think?”
“Only based on every single interaction I’ve ever had with you. And what is it you propose we’d tell people? That we’ve been secretly dating for months?”
“No one would believe that,” he says.
“That I could stand dating you for months? Agreed.”
“No, that you’d keep it a secret. I propose we stick as close to the truth as possible. Minus the transactional element.”
“Right. I’ll just tell people you’ve kidnapped me… Hold up. What’s this?” I point to a section of the contract. “It says here you want me to ‘forego interactions with any and all current and/or past boyfriends and/or sexual partners throughout the month-long period of this contract’?”
“As will I. Is that a problem?”
“No. I mean, Julian’s not in town anyway.
” He’s never been my boyfriend, but he’s the most consistent male companion I’ve had, since my sexual partners have, for one reason or another, never interested me enough to merit more than a few encounters.
Julian is a choreographer who’s based in New York, and we’ve been seeing each other off and on since I lived in Pittsburgh.
The sex is always hot and fast, and now that I think about it, he’s never taken me on an actual date.
But he’s brilliant and wildly talented. So that counts for a lot. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
“You’re still seeing that guy?” John asks.
“When we’re in the same city. You know about Julian?”
“No. Sort of. Due diligence,” he says. “I will remind you that we’ll be in Manhattan for a few days.”
“Oh. Right. Well…it’s a big city. I doubt we’ll cross paths.”
“You actually enjoy crossing paths with that guy? Really?”
“Well…I mean, he’s a genius choreographer,” I say.
“Let’s not use the word ‘genius’ so freely. If he’s such a good choreographer, then why hasn’t he cast you in anything?”
“I’m under contract with the company here.”
“Not at the moment. You’re on hiatus,” John says. “Does he work on shows during the summer?”
“I mean…yeah. In New York. It’s not just his decision—there are also the producers and the artistic directors,” I say. “Why are we even talking about him? And I don’t just date him so he’ll cast me. I had a crush on him long before we met.”
“Really?” John appears to be genuinely grossed out by that information.
“Excuse me. I’m sure your taste in women is impeccable.”
He grins as he slowly looks me up and down. “I think it is.”
I shake my head, though my nether region is tight and damp. “You do realize my brother would have punched you in the throat by now if he were here.”
“I think that would have been true up until a while ago, but not now.”
“Oh, really? Does he know about this proposition?”
“He does not, and he will not know of the agreement, no. I absolutely intend to get his blessing in the most effective and efficient manner possible. But he did suggest that I get in touch with you.”
“I’m pretty sure this is not what he had in mind.”
“He trusts me. I think you’re the one he doesn’t trust.”
John may be right about that. After reading through the entire document, I say, “There’s nothing in here about sex.”
“Correct. Due to the nature of my schedule and work commitments, I can’t commit to a particular number of times that I’ll be free to have sex with you.”
Oh, for crying out loud. “I meant that I want it in writing that I’m not required to have sex with you.”
He looks genuinely confused by this statement.
“Let me clarify, in language that you might comprehend: Due to the potentially intimate nature of this arrangement, I would prefer to include a term in this agreement that protects me from being required to have sex with you simply because you’re paying me to pretend to be your girlfriend.
” Oh my God, I’m going to have to say it out loud. “So I don’t feel like a prostitute.”
He stares at me for about ten seconds, his brow furrowed. Then, an absolutely gorgeous smile spreads across his face. What a smile. He so rarely smiled growing up, it makes me sad for little Johnny Brandt. Although it probably didn’t help that a tiny ballerina was always sassing him.
And then he starts laughing. I wish he didn’t have such pretty blue eyes and perfect teeth, because I really want to punch him when he laughs at me like that. But I also don’t want to mess up that area on the front of his head that I’ll have to look at every day for a month.
John stands up, crosses his arms, and steps toward me, blue eyes still sparkling.
He bites his lower lip and then says, “It never occurred to me that you would prostitute yourself. There are financial terms, yes, but they are in exchange for your time, not your body. Olivia, I hope you know that above all else, I am still your brother’s oldest and closest friend.
It’s going to be difficult enough navigating my friendship with him while we progress through this coming month, but at the very least let me say that I do care about you and have no intention of putting you in any position that you aren’t comfortable with. ”
As he takes a breath, his eyes lower from my eyes, down the length of my torso, lingering around my exposed lower belly, and back up to my mouth, before he licks his lips and continues. “To be clear, Olivia: If you and I ever fuck each other, it will be consensual…”
He leans toward me, the side of his face nearly touching mine. I feel his breath in my ear.
“And I promise you will enjoy it. But no matter how good it is. No matter how much you want it. No matter how beautiful you are or how hard my cock gets every time you open that sassy mouth of yours. No matter how many times I might think about pleasuring you until you forget why you ever called me Johnny B. Nerdballs. No matter how often I think about fucking the living daylights out of you on any given day,” he says, “I am not going to have time to fuck you nonstop every day for thirty days. Because I have a very tight, ambitious schedule. Because I run a business, and I have a multitude of goals and tasks and meetings that I have to focus on. That’s why it’s not a negotiable term.
” He stands upright again and says, “Understand?”
Holy shit.
Roller coaster drop.
John grabs both of my arms as I fall into him, because I actually get light-headed and my legs turn to jelly. “You okay?” he asks.
“What? Yes.”
Holy. Shit. I just lost my balance while standing still. Me. A professional ballerina. Did I just swoon? Is that what swooning is? Because of Johnny B. Nerdballs? Because of words?
He loosens his grip, reminding me that he’s still holding me.
I pull away from him and straighten myself up. “I’m fine. And yes, I understand.”
Where’s the fucking pen so I can sign this thing?