CHAPTER SIX #2
I swallowed back tears, letting my mind wander to my cramped studio apartment, about the bills I couldn't pay and the jobs I'd been turned down for this week alone.
The bathroom door swung open and then shut.
I hastily swiped at a tear as though the two friends who happily chatted in the next stalls could even see me.
This contract, this arrangement, would change not just my life, but Mia’s future.
I’d long forgotten about my tingling, numb legs as I tried to envision what the next year could look like under this arrangement.
Public outings? I’d hire one of our babysitters to watch Mia.
She could know Nash as just one of my friends.
It didn’t need to become serious for her.
I wanted to limit the amount of interaction between her and Nash because he wasn’t going to be a permanent fixture.
Now, I’d have the resources to achieve that.
Hell, he likely wouldn’t need to come to our apartment while she was there.
I could arrange for him to “visit me” at my apartment while she was in school, if he ever needed to come over, minimizing the interactions between them.
That’s all I cared about. Her little heart.
The one that her own father cared nothing for and had broken repeatedly since the day she was born.
I knew what it was like to wander this world heartbroken as a young girl.
My own father had been taken from me at a young age, a work accident that claimed his life.
The man my mother married next was a cold man, and even as a little girl, I could tell he never truly wanted me there.
Yet I’d always hoped he’d choose me, love me, which meant my adolescence became a series of heartbreaks. Being promised things only for those promises to be broken chips away at a young heart.
I didn’t want Mia to have a lifetime of that. I didn’t want Mia to look at Nash as a father figure only for him to disappear. She already had so much disappointment from her own father. I was determined to do my best to protect her heart and prepare for her future.
So how could I say no to the contract? It was worth any amount of discomfort in the short term.
I could pretend to be someone’s girlfriend and wife for a year.
“Occasional intimacy to maintain public appearance” was doable.
Furthermore, Nash had made things more than clear: this was business.
I’d fallen in love with him after one night, but that was out of the question this time around.
Nash had no interest in love, at least with me. We’d be divorcing no matter what.
It was unromantic. It was stark. It was basically an unsexy turn-off. And I was ready to fucking do it.
I scrolled to the signature page and signed with my finger on the phone screen. I hit send before I could change my mind.
I stared at the phone for a few moments, my legs screaming with pins and needles, waiting for some sign that I’d entered my new life. All I got was the bathroom door swinging open and then shut as a new round of patrons filtered in.
Nothing changed. Still the same old Clara Whitehall, formerly known as Clara Buttons, and for one brief night, Scarlett.
I stood, stepping tentatively until my legs regained feeling.
I felt exactly the same as Broke As Hell Clara, plus the strange sensation that came from sitting on a toilet for too long without using it.
But soon, I’d be Financially Solvent Clara.
The Clara who had a savings account with more than a few dusty pennies in it.
The Clara who didn’t break into hives when she had to pay rent each month.
Thoughts swirled as I washed my hands, staring at my reflection.
I couldn’t tell anyone, not even Zoey. It was the most enormous secret of my life.
Could I actually keep it a secret for almost a year?
I could barely last five minutes when faced with Zoey and a piece of juicy gossip.
Doubt and regret and excitement all washed through me. And then my phone buzzed.
NASH: Welcome to the team. Dinner tomorrow night to discuss next steps?
CLARA: Good idea, future hubby.
NASH: Marco will pick you up at 6. We have a lot to plan.
I stared at my phone screen, anxiety already creeping through me. Dinner at six? That meant logistics. Babysitter. Who to ask, what to tell them?
CLARA: When do the monthly funds come through? I need to arrange a babysitter, and she charges extra at night.
NASH: Where are you? Can we meet now?
My heart started racing. Where was I? Recovering from the shock of signing a legally binding contract with a billionaire inside a cramped ladies room, that’s where.
I hurried back into the coffee shop, peering out the front windows to get an idea of where the hell I’d been camped out for the past half hour.
Once I used my detective skills to figure out the nearest intersection and paired it with the name of the coffee shop at the top of the menu, I sent Nash the address, followed by,
CLARA: It’s called Black it was never too cold out for an iced coffee.
I barely had the drink in my hand, easing onto a barstool along a high table against the front window, when a car outside caught my eye.
It was the same sleek, expensive SUV from outside Elite Catering.
It pulled up to the curb, and the four-ways began flashing.
I stiffened, every inch of my skin lighting up with awareness.
The car commanded attention. I wasn’t savvy enough about cars to know why it stood out, other than it probably cost more than my entire life.
The back door swung open. Polished alligator shoes were the first thing I saw, followed by a man straightening his broad shoulders in the midday flow of pedestrians, adjusting the cuffs of his tailored, charcoal gray suit.
Nash Freaking Nightingale. My body went hot and then buzzy. I was supposed to be this hunk’s wife? I could barely pass as his housekeeper, yet somehow he wanted to present me to the world as his one true love.
It didn’t make sense, but then again, it didn’t have to.
I’d signed the contract, and now Nash Nightingale was walking toward the coffee shop like he was about to buy up the entire block.
It wasn’t until he pulled open the door and stepped inside that I remembered to shut my mouth and begin playing the part.
I was supposed to be the one Nash chose, and I needed to act like it.
Tipping my head, I waited for him to notice me. I felt sly, mischievous, nearly bursting with anticipation as he scanned the coffee shop. Looking for me.
When he found me, I could feel it. His attention sizzled, nearly breaking skin. His perfect lips formed a smirk, and I barely caught the way his brow lifted as he walked toward me.
“Hey there,” I purred.
He leaned an elbow against the high table, his gaze raking over me. “Hey, Clara.”
“You can call me Buttons,” I corrected him.
That sexy smile grew wider, and as the manly scent of his cologne settled around us, I remembered in a flash exactly what it had been like the first night we’d met.
“Do I want to know the origin story of that name?” His voice was a sexy rumble, somewhere between calculating and bored.
“Sit down and stay awhile, and maybe I’ll tell you.” I tipped my head to the empty stool near him.
“I came for a reason,” he explained, reaching into the interior pocket of his suit coat. His gaze fell to the drink in front of me. “Are you drinking an iced coffee in April?”
I shrugged, taking a noisy sip. “There’s no law against it. Do you want one? I won’t tell anyone if you do.”
“No. Thank you. I’ve already had my fill of caffeine for the day.” He pulled out something small and black. He set it on the table and pushed it toward me with one finger. “This is yours.”
I blinked down at it, trying to understand what I was seeing. It was a featureless business card of sorts. I picked it up, the immense weight of it confusing me further.
“Is this because I signed—”
“It’s my credit card.” He looked a little amused, his intense blue gaze stuck on me as I turned the thing over in my hands. “Is this your first time seeing one?”
I snorted, shooting him a look, though I relished the dry sarcasm. “Why is it so heavy?”
“That’s just how it comes,” he said. “It’s made of metal.”
“Mine are made of plastic,” I shot back. “Maybe yours is so heavy to reflect the infinite credit limit. Is that why?”
“Well, the limit’s not infinite, but it should be more than enough for what you need.”
Our gazes met, and I saw something expectant in his gaze.
“My babysitter doesn’t accept cards,” I told him, pushing it back toward him. “I appreciate it though.”
Nash cleared his throat, reaching into his coat pocket again. This time, he pulled out a thick leather wallet. He opened it, pulled out several hundred dollars bills, and then tucked them under the credit card.
“Yours.” He pushed it toward me again. “Keep the card.”
Somehow, the wad of hundreds made it seem more real. My throat tightened, and I looked up at him. “Seriously?”
“Put it in your purse. See what happens.” His eyes twinkled and he jerked his chin toward me.
“Stop it, Nash.” I did what he said though, goosebumps flaring on my forearms. “You keep doing stuff like this and I’ll have to marry you.”
He chuckled, a genuine smile lighting up his handsome face. “That’s the plan, huh?”
“Absolutely.”
I gazed into his eyes for a few moments, getting lost in the icy blue swirl there. Then he checked his watch, the spell breaking.
“I have some meetings I need to get to. Let me know if you need anything else. I’ll send you the details for the dinner.
” He winked at me before setting off for the front door.
It wasn’t until he’d stepped onto the sidewalk that I remembered to look around us.
A few patrons had their eyes on his retreating figure.
I drew a deep breath, watching as Nash tucked himself back into the car and disappeared behind its tinted windows.
My life had officially changed. And the five hundred dollars wrapped around a heavy-ass credit card was only the beginning of the evidence.