CHAPTER SEVEN
NASH
Clara was still on my mind as I returned to the office that afternoon.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the way she’d been sipping that iced mocha like it was the height of summer.
Archer always gave me shit for drinking iced coffee in the colder months.
It felt like a sign, maybe. Or perhaps just a coincidence.
We’d been around each other for less than ten minutes and my body still buzzed from the brief contact.
This was what I’d wanted. The connection. That was going to convince the investigators, whoever they were, and the world at large.
We’d fake it perfectly.
The excitement I had for tomorrow’s dinner with Clara was far from fake.
Luckily, I didn’t have much time to probe those thoughts. As soon as I hit the main hallway of our headquarters, I headed for Archer’s office. I rapped on his closed door then opened it enough to poke my head inside.
He looked up from his desk expectantly. “Yes?”
“You got time for an emergency meeting?”
He scoffed. “If it’s an emergency, I guess it doesn’t matter whether I have time or not. What’s up?”
I stepped inside and shut the door behind me. “She signed.”
The start of a smile curled his lips. “No shit?”
“She agreed with the contract I sent her, no changes. Signed on the spot, basically. I just met up with her in Midtown and dropped off a credit card for her to use. Tomorrow she’s coming over for dinner, so you can meet her then.”
Archer nodded, leaning back in his chair. I could see the wheels turning in his head. “Okay. So should I act like…I know? Or that I don’t know?”
His question stumped me. This fake-not-fake stuff was a little confusing. “You should act like you know. Because we’ll tell her that you know too. Right?”
He nodded slowly, clearly thinking through the plan. “Right. It would make sense for me to know, because I’m included in the inheritance, even if I’m not conning some girl into marrying me.”
“I didn’t con her,” I warned him.
“It’s not a bad thing. Con stands for confidence,” he said.
“Thank you. Your words are uplifting, Archer, I can’t begin to explain.”
He narrowed his eyes at my heavy sarcasm but I saw the start of a smile on his face. “I’m not being fucking inspirational. I’m being educational. There’s a difference. The term con man came from the phrase ‘confidence man’. Don’t you read books?”
“Can we stay on topic please? I don’t have time for a history lesson about every last thing you say. I need you to tell me whether or not Clara should know that you know.”
“Yeah. Other than me, nobody else will know. And she should know that.”
I shook my head, a disbelieving laugh escaping me. “This is a fucking ridiculous situation, and I know there’s going to be so many more random things to hash out.”
“Are you going to kiss her in public?” Archer asked, lifting a brow.
“I wrote that into the contract,” I reminded him. “Well, not those words exactly, but yes, public-facing intimacy for purposes of the charade or whatever the fuck.”
“What about sex?” Archer’s smile turned devilish.
I sent him a severe look. “Not part of the deal here.”
“You said you knew her before?”
I let out a terse sigh, not wanting to think too much about that insanely hot encounter all those years ago. So much time had passed. Chances were I’d inflated the memory, and hooking up with her again would feel just…normal. Maybe even sub-par.
Yeah fucking right.
“We’ve hooked up before. It was mind-blowingly hot. I’m not planning on going there with her because of reasons.”
“Like what?”
“Like the ridiculous contract I just had her sign. And the fact that she lied to me four years ago. Not to mention the fact that she has a daughter, and I’m not trying to play house with her. But more than that, this is a business arrangement. It’ll be easiest if it stays just that.”
So why was my heart pounding like Archer might somehow find out the real reason? I’m afraid I’ll fall in love with her for real.
The thought was too ridiculous to say out loud.
I didn’t believe in love at first sight, and I especially didn’t believe in love under contractual obligation.
But it sure as hell didn’t silence the voice in the back of my head whispering that there was more between Clara and me than I wanted to admit.
“So what’s the deal with the kid?” Archer asked. “You’re not going to play house? How are you going to convince the High Panel of Love Inquisition or whatever is waiting for us on the other side of this bullshit?”
I propped my hands on my hips, mulling over my response.
“It was a concession I had to make. Clara doesn’t want her daughter getting attached.
It makes sense to me. So my plan is to publicly present as a couple, without her daughter, as much as we can.
And if there are any times where her daughter must be involved, then we’ll be explaining that I’m just a friend of her mom’s or something.
I don’t know. This shit is so confusing. ”
“The kid element really changes things,” Archer mused.
“Yeah.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I don’t want to break her daughter’s heart, so I guess we’ll just tread carefully.”
“What if the investigators want to involve the kid?” Archer asked.
I expelled a frustration burst of air. “You think they would?”
“I don’t know. Just thinking ahead.”
We watched each other for a few tense moments. This was how we processed sometimes—by staring at each other. It was part telepathy, part meditation.
“Well, I’m looking forward to dinner tomorrow,” Archer finally said with a wry smile.
“Yeah. You’ll get to meet your future sister-in-law.”
He hefted with a laugh, slowly swiveling back and forth in his chair. “Now there’s something I never thought I’d hear from your lips.”
“It’s a necessary step if we want a shot at this next phase of expansion.” I leaned forward in the barrel chair. “Let’s start collecting properties.”
Archer nodded, gnawing on the inside of his lip. “You think we’re ready?”
“Clara’s locked in. The inheritance money is within reach. It’s now or never. I say we get aggressive.”
Archer swiveled his chair toward the desk, leaning to pull up something on his computer. Then he moved the screen so I could see it too. “Here’s the aerial photo of the neighborhood with the parcels outlined. How aggressive are you thinking, Nashy-Nash?”
He’d highlighted the available parcels in purple. The factory and related properties that Cross Developments had sneakily purchased consumed nearly a third of the screen. What we were looking at buying was a fraction of Queens. But it could be gravel in Sebastian’s gears.
“Let’s go twenty percent over asking price,” I finally said. “Thirty if we have to.”
Archer blinked dramatically. “Excuse me?”
“Are we saving neighborhoods or not?”
“That’s a lot of cash to blow. If we go thirty over on everything”—Archer gestured forcefully at the screen—“then we’ll come out with less than half of these properties.”
“I don’t see any other way to limit Sebastian’s options. He’s already got the fucking factory. Besides, you roped me into this shit. I’m getting married, for God’s sake. We’re going all the way.”
Archer worked his jaw back and forth as he assessed the screen. “So what happens if we do all this and then the inheritance falls through?”
I looked at him sharply. “You think I’m going to fuck this up?”
“I didn’t say that. I’m just looking at all the possibilities.
If the inheritance doesn’t come through after all these acquisitions, then we’ve got a bunch of property in Cross territory and not a lot of options of what to do with it.
Especially if we can’t stay competitive through purchasing more. ”
I shook my head, standing slowly. “You know, you could have told me you were planning on backing out.”
“Nash—”
“No. I hear you loud and clear.” I X’d my hands in the air. “I guess I’ll just go void the contract with Clara and we can go back to square one. Is that what you’d like?”
“Jesus, that’s not what I’m—”
“You got me to enter into a contractual fucking deception, NDA, legal team and all, and now you want to jump ship,” I went on.
“Nash!” Archer’s voice came out as a gruff shout. Sometimes, it was the only way we could get through to each other—getting loud. It was either that or physically wrestling each other to the ground, which we’d done plenty of times, even in designer suits. “Will you shut the fuck up?”
“Not until you stop acting like a fucking scared little kitten,” I shouted back. “We’re here now. We’re fucking doing it.”
Archer sighed testily, his knee bouncing as he looked at me. “Loud and clear, boss.”
“I’m not your boss, I’m your brother.”
“Bossy brother,” he muttered.
“Fuck you,” I shot back. “I don’t know what else you want to hear from me.
Besides, we have the Gideon project green lit.
It’s in process. The money is coming for that, at the very least, even if the inheritance fails.
But if nothing else, I feel secure in the knowledge that I could sell my twin on the black market and fetch a good price.
I could easily pay off all our debts in a bidding war for Archer Nightingale over in Singapore or something. ”
“I can’t stand you.”
“You’re such nice white man meat,” I went on. It bothered him too much to shut up now. “Those blue eyes. Goodness, Archer. Maybe we should bump that up the priority list.”
“Says the same hunk of man meat with blue eyes,” he said with a flat look.
“Yeah, but I have tattoos. I’ve ruined my skin. Yours is unblemished. Supple. Unsoiled—"
“Supple?” Archer groaned. “I’m sorry I said anything. Can we move on now?”
From the outside, others might have thought we were in dire straits. But this was just part of our natural Nightingale expression. Let off the steam until it was gone. Besides, the start of a smile on his lips told me how he really felt.
“Fine. Let’s move on.” I cleared my throat and interlaced my fingers on my lap.