Chapter 22
MANDY
Ihad been expecting Briggs. I had not been expecting Sebastian, Dash, and Bernadette. Briggs had texted and said he was on his way and wanted to discuss the business plan. I texted him back with a warning about bringing another contract to dinner.
I would absolutely make him eat it.
Cleo laughed from beside me.
“Did you know about this?” I asked her.
“I knew Briggs was coming,” she said. “The rest is apparently a bonus.”
“A bonus,” Callum repeated, already standing to do the cousin greeting thing.
“I’ll talk to the hostess,” I muttered. “We’re going to need a bigger table.”
I returned to the table after sorting out the seating situation with the hostess. She’d been gracious about it, probably because I’d planned enough events at this restaurant that they knew me by name. Within minutes, we were relocated to a larger table with a view of the courtyard.
Sebastian pulled me into a hug the second I got close enough. “Welcome to the family.”
“Thanks,” I said, returning the embrace.
Bernadette was next. “My future sister-in-law.”
I was certain they had to know it wasn’t real.
And dammit, Briggs looked too good. Dark slacks, a crisp white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. No tie. It was the dressed-down version of Briggs.
Our eyes met, and I felt that same pull I’d felt in his hotel room. The memory of his hands on my body came rushing back with enough force to make my cheeks heat.
“Hi,” I said, probably sounding like an idiot.
“Hi.”
“Get a room,” Dash said loudly, dropping into a chair.
I saw the look on Mandy’s face. “They don’t know,” I said, keeping my voice low.
It’s not like it would be crazy for a husband and wife to have sex, but I understood why she wouldn’t want everyone to know.
We all settled in, ordering drinks—water and iced tea all around because apparently we were all still traumatized by our Vegas experience. The waiter brought menus.
“So,” Sebastian said, leaning back in his chair. “Let’s talk business.”
“Can we at least order food first?” I asked. “I’m starving.”
“Fine, fine.” He waved a hand. “But then we’re diving in.”
The waiter returned and we rattled off our orders. I went with the salmon, Briggs ordered a steak, and everyone else got various pasta dishes. Once the waiter disappeared, Sebastian pulled out a folder.
“Here we go,” I muttered.
Briggs shot me an apologetic look. “I promise this is the last contract for a while.”
“You said that last time.”
“This time I mean it. And it’s not me bringing a contract to the table.”
I laughed. “You’re lucky.”
Bernadette cleared her throat. “Before we get to business,” she said, her voice taking on a tone that made everyone at the table sit up a little straighter. “I need to address something.”
“Uh-oh,” Sebastian said. “I know that tone.”
Briggs frowned. “What?”
“The carriage incident,” Bernadette said.
Briggs looked at me. I shrugged. I had no idea what she was going to say. “What about it?” Briggs asked.
“You were drunk, Briggs. Very drunk. And you drove a carriage with horses through the Las Vegas Strip.” She crossed her arms. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? Not just for you and Mandy, but for those animals and everyone else on the street?”
I felt myself shrink in my chair. She was right, of course.
“I know,” Briggs said quietly. “You’re right.”
“I’ve seen too many accidents in my career,” Bernadette continued. You’re lucky nothing happened. I swear, when I saw that video, I thought it had to be AI. I couldn’t imagine you actually doing it.”
“I know,” he said again. “There’s no excuse for it. I was blackout drunk.”
“You’re supposed to be the well-behaved brother,” she said. I could hear genuine disappointment in her voice. “The responsible one. The one who makes good decisions.”
Briggs’s jaw tightened. “I’m sorry. Truly. It won’t happen again.”
She held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded. “Good. Because I’d hate to have to kill you.”
“To be fair, the owner of the carriage was right there,” I said. “You don’t see him in the videos, but he was there.”
“Oh good. I’m so glad there was someone else contributing to your delinquency.”
Sebastian laughed and leaned over to kiss her. “You should make him a binder. So he knows better from now on.”
Bernadette smiled and shrugged. “I know you’re joking, but I might.”
“On that cheerful note,” Dash said. “Let’s talk about these contracts.”
Sebastian slid the folder across the table to me. “This is the official partnership agreement. Everything we discussed before, plus some additional terms about the social media aspect and the campaign.”
I opened the folder and scanned the pages.
Revenue splits, creative control, timelines, everything laid out in precise legal language.
I was sure that had a lot to do with Briggs.
Actually, I suspected he had asked Sebastian to give me the contract specifically because Briggs didn’t want to piss me off.
“Looks good,” I said. “Where do I sign?”
Briggs pulled out his fancy pen and handed it to me. We exchanged another look. It was one of the many inside jokes we had. “Page twelve, bottom. Then initial pages three, seven, and nine.”
I worked my way through the document, signing and initialing where indicated. When I was done, I slid it back across the table.
“Congratulations,” Sebastian said. “You’re officially a Blackwell partner.”
“Does that mean I get a company credit card?” I teased.
“Nice try, but they don’t even let me use it most days,” Dash said, but he was grinning.
I caught Briggs watching me from across the table more than once, and each time our eyes met, I felt that same flutter in my chest.
“So,” Cleo said, spearing a piece of pasta with her fork. “Let’s talk about the campaign. What’s the plan?”
“That’s where you two come in,” Sebastian said, gesturing between Briggs and me. “The engagement online has been incredible. People are obsessed with your story. We want to capitalize on that.”
“How?” I asked.
“Photos, social media posts, maybe some video content. Show people the real you as a couple. Give them a behind-the-scenes look at your life together, while showing off the wedding stuff we’ll be selling.”
I glanced at Briggs. He looked about as enthusiastic as I felt.
“We don’t have a life together,” I said. They all knew that, but I felt like I needed to remind them. It was difficult to photograph what didn’t exist.
“You know, if Bernadette and I had gotten married first, we would have been perfect for this campaign,” Sebastian said.
Bernadette nearly choked on her wine. “Absolutely not.”
“What? We’re a great couple,” he said easily.
“We are a great couple,” she agreed. “But I have zero interest in being in the spotlight. That’s not my thing.”
“Come on, you’re photogenic.”
“Sebastian.” She gave him a look. “Remember what happened the last time someone posted a photo of me online?”
“You’re right,” Sebastian said immediately, his expression softening. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“I much prefer working behind the scenes,” Bernadette said. “And honestly, I’m grateful you two jumped the line.” She smiled at Briggs and me. “You saved me from having to be the face of anything.”
“Happy to take one for the team,” I said dryly.
“But it does make sense,” Cleo said. “You two are already married. You’re already getting attention online. Might as well use the momentum.”
Dash nodded. “Plus, it would look weird if the newlyweds were living on opposite sides of the country. People would start asking questions.”
I froze, my fork halfway to my mouth. “What are you suggesting?”
“That Briggs should stay in LA for a while,” Dash said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “A few weeks at least. Long enough to do the photo shoots, get some content created, make it look like you two are actually living together as a married couple.”
I looked at Briggs. His expression was unreadable.
“That makes sense to me,” Callum said. “From a logical standpoint. You need to be together for this to work.”
I smiled because what else was I going to say?
I turned my attention to my meal, listening to the conversations around me.
I was used to Cleo and Callum. I felt a little out of my element with the other three Blackwells.
They were so much. It was hard not to stare at them. They were all very handsome.
After the meal, they were all mulling over dessert. I quietly excused myself for a minute.
I stepped outside, letting the cool evening air wash over me. The restaurant had a small patio area that overlooked the street. String lights cast everything in a warm glow. I leaned against the railing, taking a deep breath.
It was all moving so fast. The partnership, the campaign, the idea of Briggs staying in LA for weeks. I’d barely had time to process what happened in Vegas, and now suddenly we were supposed to be building a fake life together.
The door opened behind me. I didn’t need to turn around to know it was him. I could feel his presence.
“You okay?” Briggs asked, coming to stand beside me at the railing.
“Yeah.” I turned to face him. “Just needed a minute.”
He nodded, his eyes searching mine. “This is a lot. I know that. If there’s anything you’re not comfortable with, just tell me. We can push back on whatever doesn’t work for you.”
I appreciated that more than he probably knew. “It’s fine. It’s just moving really fast now that it’s going.”
“It is.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything. This whole arrangement was supposed to help you, not make your life more complicated.”
“You’re not making my life complicated,” I said. That was mostly true. He was making my emotions complicated, but that was a different issue entirely.
“Good.” He was quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting to the street below. “If you want me to leave or give you space, I won’t be offended. I can find a hotel, keep my distance except for when we need to do the campaign stuff. Whatever makes you comfortable.”
I thought about it. Having him stay in LA, being around him more often, spending time together—it was risky. Every minute I spent with him made it harder to remember this was all fake. I had to protect myself from whatever this feeling was that seemed to intensify by the minute.
But the alternative was worse. I had already gotten a taste of that when I’d flown home from Vegas. I’d spent the entire flight missing him, which was ridiculous given that I barely knew him.
“No, stay,” I said, the words coming out before I could second-guess them. “I mean, it makes sense for the campaign. And we’re supposed to be married. Married people live together.”
“They do,” he agreed, his eyes meeting mine again. “But I know how to move without being seen. I can sneak into a hotel or rent a house with privacy.”
I shook my head. “If we’re going to convince people this is real, we need to practice. Get comfortable around each other. Learn each other’s habits and quirks.”
“That’s very practical of you.”
I shrugged. “I can be practical.”
“I’m learning that.” A small smile tugged at his lips. “You’re full of surprises, Mandy Carter.”
“Blackwell,” I corrected without thinking. “For the next three months, anyway.”
His smile widened. “Right. Mandy Blackwell.”
That was wild. Me. A Blackwell. A month ago, I never would have imagined me sharing a last name with my best friend.
“We should probably head back in,” I said.
The door opened. Cleo poked her head out, a knowing look on her face.
“Everything okay out here?” she asked.
“Perfect,” I said, probably too quickly. “Just getting some air.”
“Right.” She didn’t look like she believed me. “Well, dessert just arrived. You might want to come back before Dash eats all of it.”
“We’re coming,” Briggs said.
Cleo disappeared back inside. I started to follow, but Briggs caught my hand, pulling me back for just a second.
“For what it’s worth,” he said quietly. “I’m glad you said yes to this. To all of it.”
“Me too,” I said.
We headed back inside. I felt like the high school quarterback just asked me to prom. I was going to be living with the man.
Holy shit. How in the world was I supposed to keep my hands to myself?