Page 12 of An American in London

Nick shakes his head. “No one. If you really want to buy the hotels, you’re going to need to go in there and prove to him you’re a worthy successor.”

Ben pulls in a steady breath. “Okay. That’s not a problem. I’m committed to owning the business long term. I’m not some privateequity house that’s going to prop it up with debt and drain it of cash. I’m certain I can convince him I deserve it.”

“No, not on your own, you can’t,” Nick says. “You need to become a man who thinks like he does, who thinks family is everything. Someone who’s all about creating a legacy to pass down to your children.”

“Children?” It’s like someone has put sour milk under his nose. “I’m not thinking about a family.”

“Then you won’t get the hotels. It’s as simple as that,” Nick says. “You need to paint yourself as a family man, working to create something your children can one day inherit. The duke wants to find a home for some of his assets, but he won’t make compromises to do it.”

“So what do you suggest? I kidnap a baby and bring it along for the weekend?”

Nick tilts his head one way and then the other, as if considering Ben’s suggestion. “Probably not the best idea.”

“Okay, so I’ll kidnap a woman instead and take her to Gretna Green.”

Nick winces. “Kidnapping probably shouldn’t be part of your plan. And Gretna Green isn’t Vegas. You’d still have a two-week wait to get married.”

“So what’s your suggestion?” Ben asks.

“A fiancée would do it. You’re looking forward to the big day, can’t wait to start a family, you want five kids and to move out to the country—just like him.”

Ben chuckles, takes another sip of wine, and then picks up the drink list. “No problem. You think they have fiancées on the menu?”

Nick fixes his mouth in a straight line, raises his eyebrows, and then looks pointedly at me.

It’s like someone’s pressed “Pause” on the scene. While the men are busy not speaking, my brain catches up to what Nick’s thinking.

He can’t be serious.

“Absolutely not,” Ben says at the same time as I blurt out something slightly less eloquent.

“Why not?” Nick asks. “You’re following each other around. You need someone who isn’t actually trying to get you to commit. Because we all know how that goes.”

I like Nick. Ben is clearly rich and powerful and in a permanent bad mood, but Nick doesn’t pull any punches with him. Ben needs someone like Nick in his life.

“I don’t need a fake fiancée,” Ben says.

Nick winces. “I beg to differ.”

“Well, I’m certainIdon’t need a fake fiancé,” I say. These next weeks are about keeping a job. Stopping my life from completely falling apart. They’re not about pretending to date a stranger, even if that stranger has biceps of steel and cheekbones I want to lick. Even though my default position is to say yes if I can help someone, this time, I have to say no.

We fall silent as the waitress clears our plates and tops up our wine.

“You heard her. Even if I was prepared to entertain your harebrained scheme, Saturday Afternoon here won’t hear of it.”

“Name’s still Tuesday,” I mumble under my breath.

“You can solve that problem,” Nick says, ignoring me. Does he know something I don’t? “You said it yourself: Everyone has their price.”

“Nick! I’m not for sale, no matter what you might think.” I push my chair out and scrabble in my bag. This is getting weird and I need to get out of here.

“He didn’t mean that.” Ben places a hand on my upper arm, and I freeze. All I can feel is the heat of his hand and the way it rockets through my body like a firework.

“He’s out of line and thinks money can buy everything—and most of the time, that’s true,” Ben says, his voice low and serious. “I don’t think that of you. And neither does he. Please stay.”

It’s the most he’s spoken to me since I met him, and there’s something so reassuring, so knowing, so completely protective to his tone, that I put my bag down.

Our entrees arrive and our table is completely silent.

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