CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CLARA
CLARA
At the start of the following week, I was still trying like hell to come down from the high that was Nash Nightingale.
Whenever my mind wandered, it went straight to the grit in his voice when he’d told me if it was just the two of us in here, I'd show you exactly what this dress does to me. What you do to me.
How was a woman supposed to continue living after hearing something like that?
I was a feeble, horny mess now. Barely functioning, strung together with caffeine and daycare drop offs.
After daycare drop off Monday morning, I came back to my apartment for some self-care. And I didn’t mean a face mask. I hopped into bed, grabbing my favorite vibe from my bedside drawer, and huddled under the covers for some me time.
At this rate, I was going to need to masturbate hourly if I wanted to keep my head on straight around Nash.
I found myself swollen and wet, which was my new constant state of affairs. Nash had me permanently excited, and there was no solution in sight, other than fucking him, which seemed somehow inappropriate.
Hadn’t the contract stipulated we wouldn’t do that?
I didn’t care, at least not for now. I gave myself over to my fantasies as I moved my vibrator over my clit, my eyes squeezed shut as I imagined what might have happened Saturday night if it really had only been the two of us in his penthouse.
I imagined Nash peeling the dress off me, laying me out on the couch, and feasting between my legs just as he’d done four years ago.
My legs clamped together, a whimper escaping me as an orgasm ripped through me.
I opened my eyes, breathing heavily as I checked the clock on my nightstand. Two minutes? That was a new record. Yet somehow it hadn’t scratched the itch.
Only Nash could do that.
I cleaned my toy and stowed it, stomping out into my living room to distract myself with some plant care before diving into my Monday to-do list. I filled my little watering can and began moving along my usual plant watering path to visit with each green friend.
“Ooh, you’re pretty dry today,” I murmured to the aloe, who I only watered every two weeks.
Then it was on to my kitchen herbs, the snake and spider plants, the fern I was taking care of for my neighbor while she was abroad, the rubber plant that already needed to be repotted.
As I watered, my mind went back to Nash.
As I tended my golden pothos, some of my thoughts leaked past my lips.
“I’m not supposed to sleep with him. But it’s all I want to do. So should I sleep with my fiancé or not?”
The silence in the apartment made me laugh. Of course my plants wouldn’t answer. But they also had no idea how ridiculous that question was.
I was the only person in the world divided over whether she should sleep with her fiancé.
Because I was the only person stuck in this ridiculous, confusing situation.
“Which you entered into of your own free will,” I continued to myself while I dusted the leaves of the monstera in the corner. “And now you’ll need to marry this man and not fall in love with him for real. What do we all think? Can it be done?”
My plants didn’t answer, but my body sure did. And the resounding answer was no.
If I was being honest, I’d fallen for Nash the day I’d met him.
Spending all this time around him just reinforced what I’d known four years ago. We had blisteringly hot chemistry, and I’d never connected to anyone so quickly or so intensely ever in my life.
“Maybe you can just enjoy this for what it is,” I counseled myself as I pruned dead leaves. “Have good sex. Get married. Enjoy the spoils. And then nurse a broken heart for the rest of your life when it’s over.”
That somehow didn’t seem like the ideal path forward, but maybe I just needed to come around to the idea. While I made another round of iced coffee, I checked social media and was immediately served an ad for a wedding venue.
And my God, it was gorgeous. The type of luxury venue that I’d have only dreamt about before. But now, it could become a reality. Why not have the wedding of my dreams to the man of my dreams? Even if it ended in heartbreak.
I swiped the link and forward it to Nash with the message Just thinking ahead. What do you think?
His response was almost immediate.
NASH: Funny you sent me that. Was doing some research of my own. Looks good, but it’s a little too pedestrian.
CLARA: Pedestrian? Maybe we should do it in Buckingham Palace then?
NASH: I’ll see if I can get an audience with the King to ask.
Then he sent a series of winking and laughing emojis.
NASH: Sorry I don’t have that much clout across the sea. What about St. Regis? The Plaza?
I knew of St. Regis and The Plaza as the most iconic, luxurious wedding venues in the city, places that I’d only ever read about or seen in the magazines. They were never actual options for me.
CLARA: I can’t even see myself in those places. They’re like top tier.
NASH: I can see you in them.
Warmth spread through my body like honey. God, it was easy to get used to this man.
I just wished I knew whether this was all one huge experiment in method acting or not.
CLARA: Maybe we can tour them or something.
NASH: I’ll set something up. We’ll find the perfect place.
NASH: How have you always envisioned your wedding?
The question stumped me. I had never been a girl to cling to the fairy-tale wedding. Sure, I always wanted to find a nice man and create a meaningful, intentional life. But I hadn’t clipped images of churches, bridesmaid gowns, or floral arrangements when I was growing up.
I’d just wanted to find that true, lasting love.
The kind that didn’t depend on ostentatious displays. So it was extra ironic that the man I wanted was also offering me every ostentatious display out there, short of Buckingham Palace.
CLARA: I really never had a vision of a dream wedding. Wasn’t that kind of girl, I guess.
NASH: Even better. So we can create something special just for us.
I threw my phone down, groaning loudly into my coffee. “He can’t possibly mean that. Can he?” My voice neared a screech as I struggled to both cherish his words and reject them.
But my mind wandered to my dream wedding anyway. What would I create now, with the man I loved, if money were no object and I had the love of my life at my side?
CLARA: I guess I’d just want it to be intimate. Surrounded by my loved ones. Lots of beautiful natural light and plants galore.
NASH: I’m beginning to see this is the Clara Whitehall brand.
I grinned at my phone. He was on to something there. My phone buzzed a moment later with an incoming call from Nash. I took a fortifying breath, preparing myself to hear his sexy growl so close to my ear, and swiped on.
“Yes, darling?” I cooed.
His low chuckle made my core clench with desire. “We need to figure out more details, but I didn’t want to text anymore.”
“Just wanted to hear my voice, huh?” I teased.
“Mmm.” The noise suggested he was licking his lips or something, and I felt a surge of moisture to my panties.
Just imagining the gesture put me right back in the same spot I’d been that morning: desperate for another self-care session.
In a lower voice, he went on. “I’ve got a meeting soon.
But I was curious what you wanted in terms of a proposal. ”
“A proposal?” It took a moment for the meaning to register. “Oh, like…the actual proposal.”
“Yeah.”
My stomach flipped. Of course we’d need to see every step of this charade through. I just hadn’t counted on being asked about my preferences. Making it align so closely with my own ideas felt dangerous. If it was sterile and distant, then I might have a shot at remembering this was just for show.
“It doesn’t have to be a big deal,” I said.
“I’d rather it weren’t, honestly. I just…
” My words failed me. I didn’t know how to explain this growing friction inside me.
I wasn’t sure I even should. After all, I’d signed a contract that this would be business and nothing more.
I was probably the only one falling for my business partner here.
“Okay. Low-key. I can do that.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Sorry, I hadn’t really thought about a proposal like it was a marketing campaign. What were you thinking?”
“I thought we could do it somewhere public, let it trickle through social media that way. Let innocent bystanders catch it too, you know?”
I mulled over his words. It made sense for the ruse. But it spawned a particular type of panic that I couldn’t fully explain.
“Maybe we can just…stage some proposal photos and announce it after the fact,” I blurted.
“The idea of performing something like that in a public place…” I couldn’t finish my sentence.
It just didn’t feel right. I could be on Nash’s arm.
I could pretend to be his girlfriend and eventually his wife.
But the thought that he might get down on one knee and say sweet, meaningful words to me for everyone to hear?
I’d fall head over heels in an instant. Even if they were lies.
“Easier that way,” he said, his whiskey-smooth voice sinking into my body. “Hey, there’s another event that cropped up. We should make an appearance. It’s at the New York Botanical Garden, their annual plant sale and silent auction. The proceeds go to the garden. What do you think?”
I could barely form a response. “It sounds like a dream. When are we going?”
“Tomorrow. And this time, I want to see you in green.”
You can see me in whatever you want. I bit my lip before I could say it. “I can’t wait to see what you pick out.”
“And one more thing. We might add a few more lunches to the schedule this week. In addition to the standing Wednesday lunch.”
“Okay,” I said as butterflies swarmed and conquered my belly. More chances to see Nash. More chances to drown in this confusing, delicious, sexy stew. “What days?”
“I’m thinking Thursday and Friday too.”
“You’ll be seeing me almost every day this week,” I said. “You might get sick of me.”
“Mmm, we’ll see about that.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m late to a meeting. I’ll see you later, babe. Love you.”
Everything inside me froze as the line went dead.
He hadn’t only called me babe. He’d added “love you.”
Fuuuuuuck.
A breath finally whooshed out of me and I pressed a hand to my chest. What had I gotten myself into? My brain knew he was probably in front of people and needed to perform. My heart did not give a fuck about anything but hearing those words again.
How was this both the best and worst situation at the same time?
A text message came in a moment later.
NASH: Had some investors come over. They knew I was talking to my girlfriend. Hope that didn’t scare you.
Maniacal laughter escaped me. Scare me? No, it didn’t scare me. It only felt like the best, most natural thing ever, and that scared me.
CLARA: You did good. We’re so good at this.
What the fuck else was I supposed to say?
I did my best to detach from the Nash Nightingale fantasy.
But the longer this went on, the harder it was to reorient myself post-Nash.
Now his texts and mid-morning check-ins could derail me.
I was afraid to think about what the state of affairs would be after our nine-month marriage was up.
I’d probably grieve divorcing him more than a real husband.
I hadn’t expected things to get this intense this quickly.
The only way through it was by going deeper.
And no matter how much that scared me…I was fucking dying for it.