Page 7 of Stick to the Deal
As she reviews the pages, there are occasional snorts or muttered comments as she makes piles on the tray. I turn my attention to the file in my hands, committed to carrying out my end of the bargain. Exactly as Nic predicted, I find pages with familiar faces smiling up at me. Almost all these men I’ve met at school, the club, or at numerous social engagements. There’s a mixture of titled and untitled men ranging from thirty to forty years of age. Varied professional backgrounds and net worths. All of them are members of British upper society, though.
I quickly rule out three bachelors—they’re too old-fashioned and full of themselves to expect anything less than a stereotypical trophy wife. Trystan Kensington I move to the maybe pile. I’m pretty sure he’s gay, but he’s a nice enough chap and he’d be more likely to give her space. A couple more go into a stock of prospective choices.
“Holy shit.” Nic’s bald reaction draws my attention back to her. She’s sitting forward with a single sheet clutched in her hand. The paper shakes slightly.
My eyes snap to her face. Her cream complexion practically matches the paper. “You ok?” Maybe that second mimosa went to her head. I glance around for the attendant—we need a soda or a sick bag. As I lean closer to check the other aisle, the face on the profile smiles at me. It’s Nic.
Holy shit is right.
I shuffle through the remaining pages in my hands, and sure enough, I find myself.
Reginald Edward Montgomery Bancroft, Viscount Ravenscourt, Age 34
Parents: Edward and Penelope Bancroft, Earl and Countess of Silverbrook
Siblings: Brother, Montague Edward Alexander Bancroft, Age 27
Schooling: Eton, Oxford
Hobbies and Interests: Horsemanship, Patron of the Royal Opera House, Supporter of the World Literacy Organization, Bancroft Red Hearts Foundation
Profession: None
Net Worth: £10.0M
Sourness rises up my throat. I might be the one in need of an airsickness bag. No wonder she turned pale. To have one’s entire life summarized down to a handful of statistics is embarrassing. So cold. So impersonal. Is this what my life amounts to? This is so misleading. Especially those last two lines.
How am I going to face the remaining five hours trapped here when it feels like the walls are closing in?
Chapter 5
A Terrible, Brilliant Idea
When I suggested this exchange, I never expected to find myself in that damn cerulean folder. I truly thought it could be a mutually beneficial arrangement. It’s true that women and men are more open with their peers than potential suitors, and why wouldn’t I use every tool at my disposal? A part of me wanted to see Mr. High Society squirm, though.
I read people. Years of juggling bitchy socialites and Grandmama’s expectations taught me how to survive. From the moment I put my bag down, I clocked him as an elitist with his panties in a twist. After the side eye at my mimosa, I decided I wanted to twist those panties a little more.
What can I say? I love to stir the pot. Well, when I’m sure I can get away with it.
Color me surprised at the humorous response. Figured a human might actually reside in that Tin Man costume.
Handsome costume, to be sure. Piercing steel gray eyes over an aristocratic nose with a slight bump at the bridge. Umber hair, so dark a brown it must look black in most lighting. Skin with golden undertones but too pale to be considered tan. His designer suit is obviously custom, perfectly chosen to highlight both his coloring and shoulders. Not overly muscular, but clearly fit.
I shake my head and return my focus to the paper in front of me. My gut churns.
Nicolette Sen Kato-Atherton, Age 29
Parents: Genevieve Marie Atherton and Hashi Kato; Granddaughter of Edgar Atherton II and Vivienne Atherton
Siblings: none
Schooling: Sacré-Cœur Hall Boarding School in France, University of Florida
Hobbies and Interests: Art, Fashion, Patron of the London Ballet Company
Profession: Photographer
Net Worth: $1.5 B USD / £1.2 B
