CHAPTER NINE #2
“Maybe we can accelerate the marriage,” I offered.
“Don’t forget, Clara and I met four years ago.
That’s not up for debate. We can fudge the details of what happened in the interim, but when we had our initial meeting years ago, any committee of sorts would understand why we feel comfortable moving more quickly. ”
Archer nodded, gnawing at the inside of his lip. “Yeah. I think you guys just need to be seen as much as possible in the meantime.”
“We’ve got lunch dates scheduled every Wednesday,” I ticked off each finger as I spoke, “as well as any gala, birthday, funeral, or get-together she’ll be at my side. I’m going to set up a couple of getaways too, now that I’m thinking of it.” I scribbled a quick note on a scratch pad nearby.
“Maybe you should have two lunch dates per week,” Archer said, his brows furrowing. “Once a week seems too distant.”
“Twice a week.” I was looking forward to tomorrow's lunch, even though I knew it was technically an obligation. “Fine by me.”
“I think you guys are just gonna need a solid reason of why it didn’t continue from four years ago,” Archer said. “This whole committee bullshit has me worried. Who knows what they’re going to look into?”
"Well, she was pregnant at the time,” I said. “Her useless ex. I think it’s easy enough to say that the relationship cooled. But the attraction was always there," I admitted reluctantly. "Honestly, all inheritance matters aside, it might have continued from there if she hadn’t done what she did."
Archer sent me a severe look. "She lied to you about her name. That's hardly unforgivable."
"It wasn’t just her name. It was her career. Her entire fucking life. It speaks volumes. You know that. We know that.” Because we did know that more than anything, after we’d found out our sperm donor had similarly lied to our mom about his name, his career, and his entire fucking life.
In my mind, lying equated to leaving. You lied to people who didn’t matter.
You left behind the people who didn’t matter.
I’d been left behind in my childhood, and my mom had been lied to by my father.
I had no tolerance for people who couldn’t bother to respect me or stick with me.
That was non-negotiable with Nash Nightingale.
"I can't be with someone I can't trust," I added.
Archer studied my face. "Nash—"
"It’s why I chose her. We had real chemistry, and that type of shit is hard to fake. That’s why she works. In a sense, we won’t be faking it. And how is that not the best assurance that we’ll convince this fucking committee?”
“And you don’t think your real chemistry will lead to…more?” Archer asked, laughing like he could hardly believe I was so dumb. “I mean you guys even had me fooled yesterday.”
“I can keep the line drawn in the sand," I said firmly, even though something in my gut flopped as soon as I said the words. "This is business. Nothing more."
Archer lifted his palms in defeat. “Okay. If you say so.”
Once lunch had been delivered—sloppy deli meat subs from our favorite place in Midtown—and demolished, Archer’s assistant Lennox popped his head inside.
“Media alert, guys.” Lennox shook his head, swiping across his tablet screen.
Lennox was also known as our reputation ambassador.
He kept tabs on all mentions of us on social media and in the news, though he was instructed to only alert us of the most severe or controversial occurrences.
“Just for you though, Nash. About your new girlfriend.”
Lennox handed me the tablet, which showcased a list of article links.
Every link was a different gossip blog. I scanned them all, finding each one speculating about my relationship with Clara.
One had managed to dig up the fact that she'd worked for the city planning department, which they were spinning as a "power couple in the making" angle.
"Well, we got what we wanted," I said, showing Archer the headlines. "Organic circulation."
But as Archer scrolled through the articles, a cold dread settled in my stomach. These gossip bloggers were good at their jobs. If they kept digging, what would they find?
I’d done my background check, but I needed to research any potential scandals that Clara might have lurking in the shadows.
“Thanks, Lennox.” Archer handed him the tablet, and Lennox excused himself from the conference room.
“It’s a good thing,” I finally said, even though doubts were swirling.
“Why are you worried then?” Archer said, squinting at me as he clicked the tip of his pen compulsively.
"Stop with the psychic shit. But if you must know, I’m worried because it’s new. I’ve avoided a relationship for a lot of reasons, and millions of strangers commenting on my love life is one of them.”
My phone vibrated with an incoming text and I sighed, almost dreading picking it up. This day had been nonstop so far, and I felt like it wasn’t done pummeling us.
CLARA: I need to talk, can I call?
I frowned, immediately swiping through to call her.
“Everything okay?” Archer asked.
“Clara needs me,” I said as it rang. She picked up a moment later.
"Hey," I answered. "What’s going on?"
"Oh, just panicking," she said without preamble. "I got a call from someone named Haley Reeves. Do you recognize that name? She said she was an investigative journalist and she wanted to do an exclusive interview about our 'whirlwind romance.'"
"Haley Reeves?" I wracked my brain.
"She has like ten million followers on TikTok and Instagram,” Clara went on. “She does these deep-dive exposés on celebrities and influencers.”
“Oh, that’s right. I’ve seen some of her exposés before.” My gut started doing the dread churn again. What if she digs deep enough…
“Nash, she said if I didn't cooperate, she'd be forced to find the information she wants on her own."
I rubbed my brow line, mulling over the news.
Haley Reeves wasn't fully a gossip blogger, nor was she fully a journalist. She was an intoxicating mix of the two, which meant she’d catapulted from obscurity into a highly valued content creator.
She was thorough, relentless, and had a reputation for uncovering secrets that people thought were buried forever.
"What exactly did she want to know?"
"Everything. How we met, when we started dating, why we've kept our relationship so private."
"Listen, don't talk to her. Don't return her calls, don't respond to any messages. I'll handle this."
"How? Nash, what if she finds out about Mia? I don’t want her plastering my daughter’s face all over the internet. What if she digs into my finances and realizes I was broke three weeks ago and now I'm suddenly shopping at Bergdorf Goodman?"
She was right to be worried. There were too many loose threads, too many questions that an investigative journalist could unravel.
"We'll figure it out," I said, though I had no idea how. "Together. Can you meet tonight? We need to get some details straight before our next lunch date."
"Uh…yeah. Tonight’s fine.”
"Dinner at my place at eight?" I suggested.
“Actually—no.” She sighed. “I kept Mia home from daycare today. She’s a little sick. What if we did dinner at my place?”
The suggestion surprised me; I knew she wanted to keep a wall between Mia and me. “Are you sure? I didn’t suggest it because…well…”
“Yeah. It’ll be okay.” She sounded a little tentative, as though she was still convincing herself. “This is an emergency, after all. We’ll just explain that you’re a friend. One time won’t hurt anything.”
“All right. I’ll take care of dinner. I’ll show up with everything,” I promised her. If that was one less thing she had to worry about, I was happy to do it.
After I hung up, Archer was staring at me with concern.
"What’s the latest round of shit for today?" he asked.
"Haley Reeves from that stupid exposé account found out about us and called Clara demanding an exclusive interview. Clara is spooked, so we need to make a game plan ASAP."
My gaze drifted to the aerial photos again, to all those red markers indicating Sebastian's relentless advance. We were defending ourselves on two fronts now—against Sebastian's property grab and against a journalist who could expose everything.
“Yeah. Get your story straight and then stick to it,” Archer said.
The real problem was in the sticking part.
To Clara and me, this needed to remain business only, but last night had reminded me the things I felt for Clara the first time were still very much alive, and they were anything but business.