Chapter 2
VANCE
From the windows above my sink, I watch the woman in the next-door house.
Light brown hair pulled back in a messy bun, blond strands hanging about her cheeks.
Eyes narrowed, brows pressed together, her plump lips twisted.
She’s gorgeous, curvy, and soft-looking, different from the plastic women I usually see in this neighborhood.
She’s just a fantasy. I can look as much as I want, but I don’t do relationships. Love always ends in heartbreak, period, and I already have too much going on in my life.
The woman in the next-door house sits on her kitchen island, a dainty coffee cup forgotten next to her as she bangs on her laptop.
Something tells me she’s having problems with it.
She punches the machine so hard it trembles and hits the coffee cup, which tips and splatters all of its—definitely cold—contents on the marble island.
The shock on her face is so comic I almost cackle.
Keyword: almost.
Watching her is fascinating. I couldn’t stop thinking of her ever since I landed my gaze on her.
On her stretched lips around a banana. Erotic, yes, ridiculously erotic.
The embarrassment on her face is what caught my eye, though.
She went pink, then red, her eyes glittering with shame.
I can’t deny how adorable she looked at that moment.
Not that it matters. Adorable or not, she’s untouchable.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket and I pull it out and pick it up without looking at the screen. “Yeah?”
“Is this how you talk to your father?” the male voice roars at me from the other side.
My jaw clenches and I check the screen. Shit.
I should have looked earlier. “Sorry, sir. How can I help?” My father hates it when I disrespect him by calling him anything other than sir.
Neither he nor my mother was ever close to me—a common downside from families with generational wealth, I noticed.
My family had me so I could manage the business while they took vacations and retired, not because they wanted to raise and love a human being.
Just another proof that love is an invented feeling, a marketing scam. The person who thought it out was a genius.
“Hey, darling,” my mother chimes in. “We’re in the jockey club. You’re on speaker, darling.” Darling is how my mother refers to me in front of others. When it’s just us, it’s Junior. It’s like she wants me to remember I’m my father’s son and property.
“How are you, Mom?”
“I’m doing amazing, darling. Thanks for asking. You’ve always been such a loving son.” The way she says it tells me there are people around her. People she wants to impress. “You won’t guess what’s happening on the weekend.”
“No, I won’t guess.”
There’s a moment of silence, then Mother forces a peal of laughter. “He’s such a joker,” she says to I don’t know who. “We’re going to have dinner with you! You’re at the beach house, are you not?”
“I am.” Damn it, I escaped into the beach house because I needed time away from my parents.
My father’s business is huge, with one layer upon another, too much politics, a board of directors, and more problems with the IRS than I enjoy.
And, of course, it’s all going to be mine—mine to fix, mine to handle, and mine to deal with the consequences.
“Is your girlfriend there?” she asks.
“My... girlfriend?” I arch an eyebrow, and my gaze darts up to the window, across the lawn, to the woman in the next house. She has given up on banging her computer in favor of closing it and moving to her cell phone. That computer must be two steps from putting up a white flag. “What do you mean?”
“Your girlfriend, darling,” Mother insists. My father mutters something beside her. “Of course, he has a girlfriend. He told us about her.”
Oh, shit. That I did. From their point of view, I’m a forty-year-old man without a wife to serve me or children to fulfill my parents’ legacy.
My father adores pointing out how that makes me a failure since he already had me when he was twenty-five.
They bothered me so fucking much about having a girlfriend I might have lied about one at some point. I can’t believe they still remember it.
“Vance is a liar,” my father complains, and rage coils so hard inside my chest that it chokes me. It’s even worse because I’m dealing with my father’s possible tax evasion. I’ve never been a liar, and the girlfriend thing was a desperate fluke. “He’d have introduced her already if she existed.”
“She has a life,” I reply, glancing at the girl across the lawn. She’s on a phone call now, pouring herself some coffee with a smile on her face. I daydream for a second, imagining the sound of her laughter. “And I’m a busy man. You know that.”
He only mutters in response, his usual reaction to when I’m right. He never agrees with me and never apologizes. Father figure of the year. Mother clears her throat. “You can introduce her to us, Vance. I’m pretty sure she’d love to spend the weekend there with us.”
“Wait. This weekend?” Shit. How am I going to come up with a girlfriend in days? And while I’m staying here? How am I going to convince anyone to pretend to love me in front of my parents when I can’t bear the sight of them?
“Of course,” says Mother. “We’ll be going this weekend; haven’t you heard me?”
“I did, but...”
“Fantastic. Then we’ll meet her this weekend.”
“Don’t forget,” Father roars, his voice so loud and clear I know he’s leaning closer to the phone. “You won’t have a cent to your name if there’s no wife in the picture.”
“What?” I cry out, but no one replies. “Sir?” And when I look at the screen, they’re gone. They hang up. Again. Why doesn’t he know how to bid farewell like a normal person? “Shit.”
That’s new. So I’ve been working for the company my entire life, but if I don’t get a wife, they’ll scratch my name from the will?
Ludicrous. And it only comes to prove love isn’t worth shit.
If my parents, the only people in the world expected to love me, think like this, there’s no way love is a thing.
Fuck that. I’m not letting them take the company from me, not when I worked so hard for it. I am keeping this company, and I’m seeing it thrive without robbing the government. No matter who I have to pretend to marry to do it.
I’m going to need someone discreet and willing to enter such a scheme. Maybe I could find a girl in an escort company, but how can I guarantee they wouldn’t blackmail me later? A contract? Can I draft a contract and find someone willing to sign it in such a short time?
My gaze draws me to the girl next door. Gorgeous, and she wouldn’t have to travel here.
If only she were needy enough to settle into the scheme...
But she lives in such a designer house; I don’t think she needs any sort of money.
As I watch, she walks to her computer and twists her lips in frustration.
Oh, the computer. Why hasn’t she bought a new one?
What if she isn’t the owner of the house? What if she’s just a guest? The potential of this idea burns inside me. I make my way to my living room, descending the steps as I look at the house next door. The car parked in front is a Golf, so either she enjoys driving junk or she’s in need of money.
Exactly the kind of person I need.
I rush out of the house and make a beeline for the next door.
This girl might just save me. We can start easy, pretend we’re dating and maybe I can propose to her while my parents are here.
A hasty marriage wouldn’t do—my father would see right through the facade.
Raising a fist, I knock on the door. When I find the doorbell, I ring it too. Just to make sure.
She keeps me waiting, my heart thundering. Finally, I hear the soft footsteps behind the door. For some reason, my heart skips a beat. I don’t know why. The door opens an inch, the beautiful face I’ve been watching through the window peeking at me.
“Yes?” she asks, an eyebrow arched in question.
Wow, she’s even prettier this close. The light brown of her hair gives way to blond, flushed cheeks, and plump lips parted as she breathes in and out, waiting for my answer.
Her eyes are a beautiful hazel color I couldn’t see in the distance, with thick lashes.
Oh, yes, I’m supposed to answer. I clear my throat, pulling my shoulders back into my professional stance. “My name is Vance York. I’m your next-door neighbor.”
“Delta Nolan. Nice to meet you.”
Delta. Such a cute name. It fits her. “Ms. Nolan, I have a business proposition. Would you mind if I come in?”
She blinks twice, then opens the door. “Alright. But just because Alina told me she knows you.”
“Alina?” I cross the threshold and then hesitate.
“The owner of the house. I’m house-sitting. Haven’t you seen her before?”
I let her close the door behind me, then follow her into the kitchen. “No, I don’t remember meeting her.”
Delta makes a sound in her throat as if my answer was expected. She stops next to the kitchen island and crosses her arms, whirling around to face me. “How can I help you, Mr. York?”
An image of her climbing on top of the island and parting her legs for me crosses my mind. What? No, that’s not why I’m here. I shake my head, dispelling the invasive thought. “Something simple. My parents are coming for dinner on the weekend. I want you to pretend we’re dating.”
Her brows shoot up her forehead. “Come again? I don’t think I heard it right.”
Now that I look at her, I regret the idea. The girl is gorgeous. Why would she want to pretend to date me? A man twice her size, too big, too rough, and someone who she wouldn’t want to introduce to her friends? The words choke in my throat, and I think it all over.
But the company, and I worked so hard for it.
Shit. “You heard it right. My parents are coming for a visit, and they insist I should have a girlfriend. I want you to pretend to be the one for a weekend.” I can’t tell her about the company, or she might go full greedy.
“Just so I won’t let them down, you know? ”
She blinks. “A lie, then. What am I getting in exchange?”
“I saw you having problems with your computer through the kitchen window.” And I point at it for emphasis. From this position, I can see the laptop has gone blue screen.
She sighs. “Well, you’re not wrong.”
“I’ll get you the latest MacBook Pro. The best model they have up there.”
Her eyes go so huge I’m afraid they’re about to pop off their sockets. “For real?”
“Yeah. Is that not enough?”
She opens and closes her mouth. “Mm, with a... mouse and keyboard and everything?”
“Sure.”
“What about AirPods? I’ve always wanted one of those.”
“Consider it done.”
She does the unthinkable. A blinding smile opens on her face, making her beauty grow thrice. She offers a hand. “Okay. Then I can be your fake girlfriend. When do I start?”
I take her hand, my fingers wrapping around hers, and electricity bolts up my arm. Shit, why does this feel so ominous? Something tells me my problems are only beginning.