Page 42 of The Player + The Pact = I Do

“It was fine. I told him I wasn’t interested.” Jules tugs at my lapel to get my attention, and I look down into her eyes. “He’s not a good guy. He was rude about you. I would have kneed him in the balls if this wasn’t your party.”

That makes me smile. “You’d have assaulted him because he was rude about me or because he came on to you?”

She slips her hand into mine and a sense of peace settles over me. “He wasreallyrude about you.”

“Don’t sweat it,” I say. “He’s rude about everyone. I’ve known him a long time. I don’t take it personally.”

“You guys are friends?”

I chuckle. “Absolutely not. He wouldn’t even talk to me when I was starting out in the business. Now he’s always trying to collaborate. I keep him around to torture him.” He’s not the only one. It’s exactly the same with Hammonds.

“He was trying to convince me I shouldn’t marry you.”

“How ironic,” I say. “So when you were talking to him and describing someone as a good man and kind and thoughtful, were you…?” I trail off.

“He doesn’t know youat all,” she says.

I glance down at her. She’s right, he doesn’t. But doesshe?

“Andrew,” I say, as we arrive back where I started, “let me introduce Jules. Jules, Andrew and I might be working together on another Harlem development.”

“It’s such a cool building, isn’t it?” Jules says, the perfect, devoted fiancée. It’s a role that seems to come easily to her. “And just what the area needs.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Andrew says. “I was just saying to Leo that you and my wife should join us for dinner.”

Jules doesn’t miss a beat, doesn’t throw me a look that says, “Is this on the schedule?” As far as fake fiancées go, I got a good one. “That would be lovely. Is your wife here tonight?”

“She’s not, she’s working. Lawyer, big case—you know how it is.”

“Jules just started working as manager of The Mayfair,” I say. I’m not showing off exactly, but Jules is clever and capable and should get kudos for that.

“Oh nice. That sounds like a lot of work.”

As she smiles, she practically radiates positivity. “It’s a lot of work, but also a lot of fun. My background is in hotels. Worked in them since I was sixteen. I don’t really know anything else.”

Sixteen? I don’t think I knew that about her. Had she mentioned it when she was trying to sell me on the idea of her managing The Mayfair? I wonder if she was polishing mirrors in a fancy hotel while I was delivering bread to the kitchen of the same place. Our paths could have crossed a million times in this city, although I am a little older than her. I slide my hand onto her hip and pull her toward me, wanting her closer, as she and Andrew continue to talk.

I tune back into their conversation just as Andrew says, “If you’re ever looking for another job, let me know. I have plenty of contacts in hospitality.” He hands her a card.

She shoots me a smile and thanks him, ensuring him she’ll be in touch. It’s certainly on-brand for Jules—always keeping me on my toes. But the more I get to know her, the more I know I’m going to work hard not to lose her. She’s too valuable… an employee.

SIXTEEN

Leo

It’s official: Jules Moore is trying to kill me. I’m doing my best not to stare at her legs while she sits next to me in the limo, but she’s hot AF tonight. I’ve managed to avoid her most of the week. I needed to take a step back after our evening together. She’d just been so… perfect in her role as my fiancée, so dazzling, so entirely attractive. Luckily, I’ve been busy at work and so has she. I was only in one night, when she happened to be out. So here we are. Dressed up and ready to go to the opening of Vault in SoHo.

“The woman says I can resell it and get more than I paid—oryoupaid for it, so long as I don’t ruin it,” she says.

“What?” I missed everything she just said as I’ve been running through all the reasons I shouldn’t find Jules attractive. It’s not a short list.

“My bag. It’s Chanel and cost a fortune. But it’s what everyone with money wears, so I thought it would be appropriate. I just don’t want you to think I’m not thinking aboutthe money. I know it’s expensive, but if I can resell it and get more than you paid for it, I’m actually making you money.”

“You don’t need to return the bag,” I say, distracted.

“It was ten and a half thousand dollars, Leo,” she counters.

“Keep it. If we manage to pull this off, it’s worth far more to me than ten thousand dollars.”

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