6. Rosay #2
I hang my head, staring at the text until my retinas burn.
I don’t want to lie to my dad, but the thought of his disappointment makes my stomach twist. Graham’s offer bounces around my head like an annoying ad, reminding me I have another option, that I can show my family I’ve finally got my life together, if only I let him help me.
It’s not a bad deal. Slumped against the island, I tap out a message I’m sure to regret.
Me: Yeah, that’s him. Can’t wait to see you.
Though I haven’t even touched the drunken noodles still sitting inside the microwave, indigestion burns my chest. I should’ve come clean the minute the miscommunication happened. They would’ve understood and probably laughed with me about it, but now I’ve dug myself even deeper.
And Graham. How did he go from disappearing from my office with an attitude to offering to be my fake fiancé?
And what does he get out of it? I know he said that he wants to network and show that we’re stronger after the debacle that heralded his arrival, but there was something else he wasn’t telling me.
Not to mention, his reputation in the tabloids as a playboy since his broken engagement might work against me.
I crack my fingers, a nervous habit I picked up in high school being the lookout when my friends were vandalizing overpasses and city parks, then pick up my phone.
Debating whether to call or text Graham, I grab my lukewarm noodles and sit at the counter.
I prop the phone on a stack of math books I use to prepare for tutoring and press the call button before I have a chance to back out.
The ring is loud in my empty kitchen. Feeling suddenly way too on edge for this conversation, I reach to end the call and knock the phone backward over the books.
Picking it up, I realize I accidentally hit the video button.
Graham’s stupidly handsome face takes up the screen and my breath catches in my chest.
“Rosay? ” he asks, panting.
His skin glistens, and a bead of sweat slides down his flushed cheek, cutting a sharp angle toward his lips. Though I try not to, my gaze tracks its descent.
“Everything okay?” he asks, blocking out the sun with his hand.
“Yeah, everything is fine.” My voice is a level too high, and by the way Graham arches a thick brow, he knows it too. “Did I get you at a bad time?”
He yells over his shoulder, “Sub me in guys, I have a call to take.” I catch sight of a basketball net and some young kids crossing each other up as he comes back into view. “Gimme a second.”
The screen bumps up and down as he walks, and I take the moment to inhale a few deep breaths and sort my thoughts. I don’t want Graham to know how off-kilter he’s thrown me with his offer.
“What’s up?” Graham sits beneath an oak tree, his massive form taking up entirely too much space on the bench as the steady thump of a basketball sounds in the background.
For some reason, matching up the guy who says I breathe too loud with the man playing basketball with a bunch of kids doesn’t equate.
Nothing about Graham screams fun, though I can’t deny the little flutter in my chest that tells me I like knowing this tidbit about him.
“I…uh.” I stop, unsure how to approach the topic. Heat creeps up my neck, and I wish I could hide myself behind one of my math books. “If you’re busy, you can call me back later.”
What the hell is wrong with you?
“Rosay,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Did you think about it?”
The way h e zeroed in on what I couldn’t say makes me grit my teeth. I don’t know where the strong, tenacious, malota my mom raised me to be went, but it’s time I found her again.
“I did.” I twist the wide noodles around my fork and pause just as it reaches my mouth, something ticking in my brain.
Maybe the perfect out for him. “You know it’s four days, right?
Not just a one-night thing. We’d have to be there from Thursday until Sunday for bachelor parties and rehearsal dinners and wedding set up. ” I take a bite, waiting for his reply.
“Not a problem.” He smirks. “Next question.”
I slurp a noodle into my mouth, surprised by his quick response. Sauce dribbles down my chin, and I swipe a napkin across it. “What do we say about how we met?”
Mirth glitters in his expression, as if he's keeping a secret. He doesn’t know that my dad knows who he is, but I’d like to have a solid story of how we got to this point when he’s only been at Thompson a year.
“You know your family best. What do you think is the most believable story?”
My cheeks fill with air and puff out with my exhale.
I haven’t spent any length of time with my family outside of a yearly birthday dinner for my dad, so knowing what they would believe about my life isn’t easy.
I guess it could benefit me that we’re not close, but I’d rather not lie to my dad when he already knows who Graham is.
“We met a few times at some investment mixers, went on a few dates before deciding to be exclusive. Didn’t want to make a big deal of it when you got asked to head up Thompson. No one at work knows yet, and we’d like to keep it that way.”
The texture of the ornate fork presses into the pads of my fingers as I wait for his response. A muscle flexes in his jaw as he shifts against the tree, and I wonder what’s going through his mind. Is he worried we can’t pull it off? Or that my story is lame?
“That’s fine,” he replies, though I can tell he’s still considering something.
“What else?”
His brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“You’re going to give yourself more wrinkles with how hard you’re thinking.”
The glare he throws me cuts through the phone screen. He pokes a tongue into his cheek, drawing out the moments before speaking and causing me to shiver.
“Are you worried about my…reputation being a hot topic?”
At first, I’m surprised by the question, but a simple look as his drawn features shows me he’s the one worried about it.
It’s not like it hasn’t crossed my mind.
Graham’s face went from being plastered all over Forbes magazines to gracing tabloid covers because of his split with his fiancée two years ago.
Though anyone can tell Bethany Carrington—nepo baby and publicist—is a viper, it was Graham’s reputation that was dragged through the mud.
He was portrayed as the playboy who only cared about money and couldn’t stay faithful, despite no pictures proving his infideli ty ever being found.
While Graham is cutthroat when it comes to business, he never struck me as the type to cheat like the tabloids said—though Connor never did either until I found him balls deep in his secretary.
A chill skitters up my spine thinking about my ex-mistake.
Graham is nothing like Connor, and I think my family will see him for the hardworking man he is rather than accepting what the tabloids say about him.
“I’m not worried about it,” I reply. “My family knows how the media is, and with the short notice, I doubt the guest list will be super long anyway.”
His chest deflates. “Okay, good. Anything else?”
Wracking my brain for any other worries, I blurt, “Kissing.”
“Kissing?”
Idiot. “Yeah.”
“What about it?” He chuckles, and I swear I’d like to punch him. “I’ve done it a time or two.”
“Not what I meant, smartass.” I sigh, swiping some loose hairs behind my ear. “You’re my boss.”
“Another good observation.” His grin sets fire to the knot in my belly.
“You're literally the most insufferable human being I've ever met. Just forget it,” I huff. “I’ll find another guy named Graham.”
“No, you won’t.” His caustic tone sends a chill across my skin, but as quickly as the fire lit, it fizzles out and his inquisitive gaze settles on me. “Why did you say you’d find another Graham ?”
I shovel noodles into my mouth, hoping for a reprieve to consider my answer. Do I tell him that I accidentally said his name when talking to my family about my love life, effectively stroking his ego? Or do I lie…again?
Self-preservation wins out. “I just meant another guy. Graham, Sam, Thom, could be any yahoo out there willing to help me.”
He grunts, a sneer taking form on his face. “You can’t take just any man off the street.”
I rear back, crossing my arms over my chest. “Why not?”
Hoots and hollers sound off in the background of his call, and he whistles at the kids to keep quiet before turning his attention back to me.
“You’ re a VP at one of the top investment firms in Texas.” His voice is deep, and goosebumps rise on my arms. “The man you’re engaged to should be of equal standing, if not better.”
As much as I want to scoff at his words, I know they’re truthful.
While Connor wasn’t a Fortune 500 level businessman like Graham, we fit into each other’s lives seamlessly.
Our families were in the same social circles, and we were ambitious—even though my success was something that apparently emasculated him.
My dad was happy that I had settled down and was looking to the future instead of the nomadic life I used to live.
Part of the reason I stayed with Connor so long was because I couldn’t bear to see the disappointment I knew would be etched into my father’s face.
“I guess so,” I reply, taking a gulp of water.
Thinking about Connor reminds me that he’ll most likely be at my sister’s wedding because our families still do business together and he’s friends with Jordan.
Though my dad offered to sever ties with Gillespie Communications after our split, I didn’t want my bad decisions to continue to affect my family, so Connor still handles marketing for Wilmington Winery. “One thing is non-negotiable, though.”
“Sex?”
Water spews from my lips and I fall into a coughing fit, smacking my chest to clear my lungs. “What?” I screech. “No.”
He shrugs as if it’s not a big deal. Sex with my boss is absolutely not on my schedule, and sex with Graham the ladies’ man is so far down on my list that I hadn’t even considered he’d be thinking about it.
Though I might wear reading glasses to go over legalese, I’m not blind.
I know how hot Graham is, but nothing is going to happen on that front.
“Then what?” he asks as if now bored to death. “I’ve got a game to play.”
I glare a t him. This conversation has thrown me completely for a loop. “Gillespie Communications is off-limits.”
A slight crinkle at the corner of his eye is the only indicator that he is curious, but he responds with, “Got it. If you think of anything else, just shoot me a text. I’ve gotta get back to these kids before they become feral.”
The screen goes black, and I’m left sitting at the kitchen island with a bowl of cold noodles and the ominous feeling that I’ve just made a deal with the devil.