Chapter 5
GRACE
“Ithink I just did something crazy.”
Kacey’s sitting on the couch with her cat, Duke Fluffington III, curled up on her lap.
When I swing open the door and frantically announce my presence, the fluffy white furball jumps from her lap, startled, and then looks at me like I’ve ruined his nap.
Not that he sleeps for eighteen hours a day or anything.
I debated on the subway ride over here from Asher’s office about whether I should tell my best friend.
I did sign an NDA that explicitly told me not to speak any of this to anyone.
But Kacey reads me like a book and knows the second I’m lying.
So I decided if I was going to break a legally binding contract for anyone, it should be her.
She stretches out her legs, now freed from being Duke’s bed, and adjusts herself so she’s facing me. “Spill it,” she demands. No other greeting. I texted her on my way home that I was fired, but we’ve yet to talk about it. I was asleep when she got home last night and she was asleep when I woke up.
“You know the guy at the club last night who I spilled his drink on, and it became a whole thing and Candace fired me?”
Kacey tilts her head, probably confused as to why I’m not a worried mess. Instead, I’m a bit amped up and rambling.
“Yeah?”
“I’m marrying him,” I say bluntly, ripping the band aid off.
That’s the best way to give news, right?
Kacey doesn’t say anything, and my brain has the intense need to fill the silence echoing through our apartment, so I continue.
“He wasn’t a huge asshole when I spilled his drink.
At first, I thought he was going to yell at me, but he didn’t.
He was actually… helpful. I thought I was going to have a panic attack because all I was thinking was that Candace was going to fire me, and this guy looked at me and told me to breathe.
And I know that sounds so stupid, but it actually worked.
And then Candace did fire me. Only, Asher was waiting outside her office, and when I came out, he was all did you get fired?
” I mock his deeper voice. I'm pacing now, not looking over at my friend as I go on about last night's events, all the way until I’m at his office this morning. “He offered me one million dollars to be his fake wife for a year. And it’s only for a year. I kept thinking about what I could do with that money, ya know? So he pulled out the contract, and I swear someone else took over my body, because the next thing I know, I already signed it.” I inhale a deep breath and finally turn to look at my best friend again. “Am I insane?”
“Yes.” Kacey’s response is automatic, and then she blinks a few times like she’s still not done processing, which isn’t too surprising. Kacey has a raging case of ADHD, and most of the time when I ramble on for too long, it takes her brain a few extra seconds. “Did you say a million dollars?”
“Uh huh.” I nod.
“Holy shit.” She sits up straighter, tossing the fluffy blanket from her lap. “I take it back. You’re not crazy. You’re completely sane because that’s a lot of money.”
I collapse on the couch next to her, and she folds her legs under her and turns to face me. “You get divorced after a year?” she confirms.
“Yep. And then I’m a millionaire.”
Kacey blows a long breath through her lips. “It’s stupid not to do it. Right?”
“Easy money,” I add with a shrug.
“You made the right choice.” I’m not sure if she’s trying to convince me or herself.
“Good. Because… like I said, I already signed the contract.”
She nods, a bit too quickly. “Perfect. Because you’re sane and engaged.”
“Amazing,” I deadpan.
“Spectacular,” she squeaks, and then we both stare ahead in silence before she asks, “How are you going to tell your parents?”
At that, I grab one of the throw pillows from our couch and hold it against my face as I groan. “Fuck. They’re never going to believe me.”
“Owen’s gonna kill him.”
“Not helpful.” But she’s right. Both of my brothers have always been overly protective of me, but my older one, Owen, took the big brother role to heart. I couldn’t talk to a boy in high school without Owen taking the time to intimidate him.
Kacey reaches over and rubs her palm in a circle over my back. “I’ll help you.”
“I’m a terrible liar!” I shout the realization. “This is an awful idea. No one is going to believe I actually met Asher Caine and immediately fell in love. That’s insane!”
“No, no.” Kacey shakes her head. “We already deemed you sane!”
I lean back against our secondhand couch with a huff. “We’re wrong. I’m clearly the least sane person on this planet. Who does this? A fake marriage? What, do I think I’m in one of my romance novels or something?” I drag a hand down my face.
“That’s not a bad idea, actually.” Kacey’s not looking at me anymore, her pointer finger pressed to her chin as she stares off into the distance. She has her thinking face on.
“What?”
“Pretend this is one of the romance books you read.” She meets my eyes, hers sparkling with enthusiasm for this new idea. “Use it as an experiment. Or maybe inspiration? You have a whole year that you don’t have to worry about working. So, use it to your advantage.”
“You think I should write a book about my fake marriage?” My head tilts, not quite picking up what she’s putting down.
“Not like an autobiography or tell all. That would definitely violate the NDA you’ve already violated.” She adds the last part in a whisper. “Use it as inspiration for a fictional story. And then, at the end of the year, you’ll have something to publish.” She snaps for effect. “Dreams come true.”
Thinking about it, my face scrunches. “I write historical romance…”
“So?” she says with clear amusement. “Write contemporary. Or make it historical. I don’t know, the creative part is your department. I’m just the big brain.”
That makes me laugh. “Well, I was already thinking I could just write, write, write all year, anyway, and I maaay have added a billionaire male character to my inspo list as soon as I left his office...”
“See! I told you the universe always provides!”
I snort. She has a way of always bringing everything back to her manifestation journey.
“Oh, and maybe he can get you out of your sex slump too!” she adds, a devious grin twisting up the corners of her lips.
I sink back down into the couch. It’s been a bit since I’ve had sex, something my best friend very much knows about. But it’s harder to find someone to sleep with when you don’t frequent a club that’s dedicated to casual sex.
“No.” I shake my head and clear my throat. “No, sex isn’t a part of it—”
Kacey’s shocked face cuts me off. “You’re gonna be celibate for a year?”
“Yeah. Of course.” But my words don’t come out too convincing.
“Grace. The guy’s a certified Dom. Opportunity has landed in your lap, bestie.”
“They have certifications for being a Dom?” I ask, knowing that she wasn’t being literal and my taking it as such will annoy her. It does. And she throws a pillow at me.
“Fine. Don’t take my advice. Let your pussy dry up, for all I care!” She stands with a loud huff, walking away from me dramatically.
“Maybe I will!” I shout after her, still laughing as she flips me her middle finger.
But underneath my happy exterior, she’s planted a seed that has me wondering what sex with someone like Asher would be like.
I don’t have a chance to ruminate for long before I get a text from my new fiancé.
Asher
Dinner at my penthouse tonight. I’ll have a car sent to you 7 PM. We can talk over the remaining details.
There’s no asking when it comes to Asher, I’m quickly realizing.
He’s telling me what to do, and a mixture of annoyance and excitement buzzes through me.
The annoyance, I understand, because who orders around someone they just met?
The excitement is a different story, one that doesn’t quite make sense. Why would I enjoy this behavior?
Grace
I can get there myself, just send me the address. Thanks!
Asher
Take the car, Miss Morgan.
I repeat the text in a mocking voice that has Kacey giggling.
“Damn,” she says, reading the exchange. “Dom energy, for sure.”
Kacey helps me get ready for dinner, which leads to an argument over my outfit.
I don’t wear dresses in winter, and Kacey doesn’t think I should wear jeans.
We settle on jeans, but Kacey forces me into a skin-tight black top that she tucks in at the waist and grabs one of her designer belts to finish off the look.
She’s happy, minus the jeans compromise, when I leave, and I don’t feel that self-conscious in the outfit, which is a win in my book.
When I exit the building at seven p.m., there’s a black Range Rover waiting for me, the driver dressed in a suit and standing outside.
“Miss Morgan,” he greets, like he knows exactly who I am in a city of millions of people. “I’m Wallace, Mr. Caine’s driver. I’ll be taking you to the penthouse.”
“Grace. You can call me Grace.”
Wallace is an older gentleman, with graying hair peeking from under his cap. He smiles and nods as he opens the door for me, repeating my name. “Grace.”
“Do you need anything? Temperature okay?” he asks as he pulls out into the New York City traffic.
I find his energy comforting, even though I’m filled with nerves.
I try to relax in the cushioned back seat, but my leg is shaking and my eyes are glued to the window, wondering what kind of place Asher lives in.
“How long have you worked for Asher?” I ask, trying to strike up a conversation to ease my nerves.
“Eight years,” Wallace replies. “I think I’m the only driver he’s ever had.” He chuckles. “He’s a good man.”
“Do you drive a lot of women around for him?” I’m not sure where the question comes from. Surely, not jealousy. But there is a part of me that wants to know if I’m just one of the many women Asher has done this with.
Wallace meets my eyes in the rearview mirror. “No, Miss Morgan—Grace—I can’t say I’ve ever driven a woman for Mr. Caine who wasn’t a family member or his assistant, Mel. This is a first for us both.”
The honesty in his voice has me relaxing into the seat. It’s not long until we pull up to the modern high rise. The lit-up letters on the building's facade read Sanctum.
I've heard of Sanctum before, a glamorous hotel and spa in the financial district. AKA, a retreat for New York City's richest inhabitants. But I didn't think they had apartments here…
“Mr. Caine will be waiting for you upstairs,” Wallace interrupts my thoughts as he gestures for me to enter the building.
"Thank you, Wallace," I murmur as the doorman welcomes me.
Entering Sanctum is like walking into a world of opulence.
Polished marble stretches beneath my boots, and crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, scattering light in soft prisms that dance across the walls.
Water trickles from a central fountain, its rhythm steady, pulling my gaze to the koi gliding below the surface, orange flashes in clear depths.
The concierge must know who I am immediately, because he gives me a curt nod and greets me by name before escorting me to a private elevator.
He taps a card against the reader, and the light flashes green as the metal doors slide open.
There's no button for the floor, and I'm about to ask, but the door slides closed and the elevator begins to ascend.
I fidget with the zipper on my coat, pulling it up and down while my heart pounds fast and hard. If my mother were here, she'd reach over and place her hands on mine to halt the restless movements. This is anxiety. I know that, and still my breathing barely calms.
With a ding, the elevator comes to a stop, and the heavy metal doors slide open to reveal Asher waiting for me.
He's still dressed in the suit he was wearing earlier, sans the jacket and tie.
The top few buttons of his shirt are open, and the sleeves are neatly rolled up.
It's annoying that even slightly undone, he's still the most handsome man I've ever laid eyes on.
“Miss Morgan,” he greets with a curt nod, his body towering, tall and stiff.
Behind him is a beautiful penthouse. The space is expansive, with floor-to-ceiling windows that give a stunning view of the Manhattan skyline lit up at night.
It takes me a moment to get past the shock before I can even acknowledge Asher. His home looks like it came straight from the modern luxury edition of a home decor magazine.
"Do you approve?" His tone has a lilt to it, and when I refocus my attention on him, I notice his head tilted and the slight smile rising on his lips.
"W-What?" I stammer, realizing I’ve been ogling his apartment without even say hello to him first.
Without answering, he reaches out, taking my hand. His warm palm feels like a heavy weight in mine as he pulls me through the threshold. The doors close behind me, and it suddenly feels like I've walked into a completely different world, and any chance of backing out has vanished.
"The penthouse," Asher clarifies. "Do you approve?"
"Yes." I nod quickly. "It's beautiful."
Another smirk, but before I can say anything else, he changes the subject. "Lisette will take your coat."
Confusion swirls as a middle-aged woman wearing all black greets me. Was she there the whole time, and I've been so distracted by Asher and this beautiful view? A blush rises to my cheeks as Lisette takes my coat and gives me a slight nod.
"Come." Asher presses a palm to the small of my back, and little sparks of electricity ignite. I push the feeling down, ignoring whatever’s happening to me when I'm around this man.
I'm here for business. We made a deal, and I plan to see it through. What's not a part of the deal is developing a crush on the rich billionaire who's about to be my husband.
He leads me to an oversized table in the dining room. Like a gentleman, he pulls out my chair before taking the seat next to me at the head of the table.
There’s a bottle of wine sitting in front of him, with two glasses on either side. Asher uncorks the bottle with ease and pours us each a glass.
“So, let’s discuss our marriage.”