Page 2 of The Love Clause

"The best ones do, my boy. My Margaret—God rest her soul—was a pianist. Couldn't balance a checkbook to save her life, but she made me remember there was more to existence than quarterly reports." His eyes grow distant with memory before refocusing. "You must bring her to the retreat this weekend."

"I'm sorry?"

"The couples' retreat. At my lodge in the Catskills. Yearly tradition—business partners, family, key executives. Didn't your office receive the invitation? Three days of connection away from the digital world." He waves his hand dismissively. "Left my assistant strict instructions to include you this year, now that you're handling our primary legal affairs."

"I..." I fumble for words, something I haven't done since my first year of law school. "She may have prior commitments."

"Nonsense!" Mr. Harrison's hand lands on my shoulder with surprising strength. "What could be more important thanmeeting her future husband's most important client? Besides, I've just made an executive decision—we'll be signing the contracts for this brilliant restructuring plan on Sunday evening. Make it a proper celebration with all parties present."

My carefully orchestrated meeting has veered wildly off course. The Harrison account—the account that represents thirty percent of our firm's annual billing and my guaranteed path to partnership—now hinges on producing a fiancée I don't have by Friday.

"We'll be there," I hear myself say, voice steady despite the panic blooming in my chest.

"Excellent!" Mr. Harrison rises, signaling the end of our meeting. "Looking forward to meeting the woman who captured the elusive Elliot Carrington. Must be quite the firecracker to pin you down!"

I manage a smile that feels like a grimace. "She's...one of a kind."

After seeing Mr. Harrison to the elevator with promises about the weekend, I return to my office and close the door with deliberate care, resisting the urge to slam it.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Claire observes from the doorway, her ever-present tablet in hand.

"Worse. I've created one." I loosen my tie with an uncharacteristic jerk. "I need a fiancée by Friday."

Claire's eyebrows rise a fraction—her equivalent of open-mouthed shock. "Excuse me?"

"I told Harrison I'm engaged. He's invited me—us—to his couples' retreat this weekend, where I'm supposed to finalize the biggest deal of my career while pretending to be madly in love with a woman who doesn't exist."

"Why would you?—"

"I don't know." I cut her off, running a hand through my hair, disrupting its perfect styling. "He started talking about familyvalues and tradition and my father, and suddenly I'm claiming to be engaged."

Claire studies me for a long moment. "So find someone to play the part. It's one weekend."

"Who? I can't ask anyone I know. The gossip would be all over the legal community by Monday morning."

"Hire someone."

I stop my pacing. "What?"

"Hire an actress. Or someone desperate enough to take the job." Claire's practical nature cuts through my crisis. "You need a woman to play a specific role for a specific timeframe. That's a transaction."

"That's…actually not insane." My mind clicks back into problem-solving mode. "But where would I even find someone willing to do this on three days' notice? Someone convincing enough to pull it off?"

Claire taps something into her tablet. "I might have an idea. My sister's friend walks dogs in Greenwich Village. Always posting about needing money for art supplies or rent or whatever creative types need."

"A dog walker? You want me to present a dog walker as my fiancée to one of the most discerning businessmen in New York?"

"Beggars can't be choosers, Mr. Carrington." Claire's tone makes it clear she's enjoying this just a little too much. "Besides, you said she's 'creative' and 'different from you.' This fits your story."

She has a point. A frustrating, uncomfortable point.

"Fine. Set up a meeting. Today." I straighten my tie, attempting to reclaim some sense of control. "And Claire?"

"Yes?"

"Not a word of this to anyone. Ever."

"Of course." She nods, but I catch the slight curve of her lips. "I'll send you her information within the hour."

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