Page 11 of The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée

I’d only be playing the part in public spaces, he was quick to add. Not behind closed doors. As if I couldn’t figure that part out.

He made me sign a document of secrecy, standing right there, just to hear the offer. I kind of want to scream and hug him, but he’s from Rex’s world, where hugging and screaming is the devil.

“Questions?” he says.

“It’s a lot to…take in.”

“What part is unclear? Should I go over it again?”

“No,” I say. “You explained it really well.”

“Well, then?”

“I guess I’m wondering, why me?” Because nobody ever picks me for things.

Clark gets this funny look on his face, and then he covers it with a smile. “You’re perfect for the part. You meet Rex’s criteria perfectly.”

“But Rex doesn’t even like me. I kind of think I bug him.” He might even hate me, but I don’t say that.

“I assume you’re free…” His gaze falls to my wrist brace. Did he put it together that I’m not going somewhere fun for a vacation? “But above all, you’re perfect for the part,” he says once again.

“But isn’t he usually with models and socialites and you know…”

Clark shrugs. “Maybe those aren’t the kinds of girls he marries,” he says mysteriously.

“And I am? Are you sure this isn’t some sort of elaborate joke?” Visions of the movieCarrierun through my mind. Nobody picked Carrie for anything, either, and then her mean classmates elected her homecoming queen, and she was so happy—until they dumped blood on her.

“How long have you been cutting Rex’s hair?” Clark asks.

“Two years and four months?” I say.

“And in that time, did you ever get the feeling that Rex enjoys jokes?”

I snort. “Point taken!” Jokes would definitely make Rex mad. Even positive sayings seem to make Rex mad.

“It’s just a part,” Clark says. “We just need you to play the part of fiancée in public spaces on the yacht. You’d also be agreeing not to date anybody else publicly for three months until we release the news of yourbreakup.” This he embellishes with quote fingers.

It’s still hard to believe that Rex thought I’d be perfect for this—that Rex, sleek and powerful lion of Wall Street, would pickmeover all of those willowy blondes. I’m more sturdy than willowy. More of a workhorse than a prancing palomino.

Rex O’Rourke with his billions and his beautiful sweep of hair coming off his forehead like a dark flame burning out of his annoyed mind. He picked me.

My pulse races as I think of all of those Friday nights, just us at the top of his building overlooking the twinkling lights of Wall Street. The way his shoulders relax a notch whenever I do the head massage. The sexy scowl he gets when I regale him with soap news, or tease him about his grumpiness. The feel of his short, glossy beard. The smooth warmth of the back of his neck under my thumb as I perfect his fade. I doubt he feels anything for me, not like I feel for him, but it means something that he thinks I’d be a good partner for this mission.

It means a lot, actually, and it’s more than the money.

“And you know I’m not an actress,” I say.

Jada bursts out from her bedroom door. “Tabitha, if you don’t want it, I’ll do it. I’m Jada Herberger, professional actress. What does it pay? I can do fake fiancée for Captain—I mean, Rex O’Rourke.”

Clark frowns. “I didn’t realize we had an audience.”

“Well…” I hold out my hands as if to say,you’re in a Manhattan walk-up!

Jada plucks the check from my hand and gawks at it. “Oh my god! Tabitha!” She looks back up at me with a mixture of horror and shock. “Oh mygod!”

Personally, I’m just glad she didn’t call him Captain Sternpants in front of Clark. Because we discuss Rex frequently, and that’s our name for him. We have elaborate theories about his sex life and his level of sternness in bed. Spoiler alert: it’s a hot level of sternness.

“Tabitha!” she exclaims again.

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