Page 31 of Winning Match
“All right,” I agree. “Let’s talk.”
9
Marlowe
“If I do this, pose as your fake girlfriend, I want you to help me woo José Costa. Not just a meeting but whatever it takes to secure his account for my family’s company. For my future,” I say, standing from the sofa and walking in front of the window.
My mind is going a mile a minute. This could be the opportunity we need to gain José Costa and his sailing team as a client.
If everything Grandpa alluded to is correct, this account could save Prescott Sail, even with Brown University and Lawrence Sailing not renewing their contracts.
“Done.”
“I’ll still need to work while I’m here,” I continue. “I can’t be on a full-time hiatus, posting on social media and baking cupcakes for your team or whatever girlfriends are supposed to do.”
Ale chokes on his coffee as he laughs. “Baking my team cupcakes? Mi niña, if you do that, they’ll expect me to marry you.”
I chuckle and raise an eyebrow. “I’ve only ever dated a sailor.”
“That was your first mistake. Gerard spent too much time at sea to notice what’s right in front of him.”
My blood heats at the look in Ale’s eyes and I roll my lips together, recalling with perfect clarity the way he kissed me at the club. The way his palm grazed my curves, his fingers threading through my hair.
“So, we’re good?” He claps his hands, standing.
“Wait.” I hold up my hand. “I can only commit to staying for two months,” I say, calculating how long I can stay away from Dad. God, even eight weeks feels like an eternity. How many pieces of him will slip away, forever, in my absence?
“Three,” Ale counters, sitting back down. “We’re trying to overhaul my reputation. Eight weeks still feels like a fling.”
I sigh, seeing his point. “Ten weeks.”
He bites the corner of his mouth to keep from smirking. “All right. Ten weeks. Long enough to be believable, not long enough to catch real feelings.”
His words cause my chest to tighten but I don’t admit that they affect me. Instead, I say, “You’re a terrible negotiator.”
“You shouldn’t admit that during the discussion of terms.”
I snort, he grins, and I admit this is more fun than it should be.
“Are we telling anyone the truth?” I ask.
Ale sighs and I can tell this portion of the ruse weighs heavily on him. He shakes his head. “We can’t risk it. We need to be all or nothing on this. And the only way to keep our lie safe is to…”
“Lie to everyone,” I finish.
“What do you think?”
“I hate it, but I think you’re right. My grandpa, not to mention the Sewing Circle, would be heartbroken if they knew I fabricated a relationship to get ahead in business.”
“Papá may never speak to me again.”
A moment of tense silence passes between us before I ask another question.
“How do I become your fake girlfriend?” I ask.
“We’ll have to make it look real,” he reminds me.
“Yes, but what will it entail?”
