“Of course.”
She wrapped her lean fingers more tightly around her mug. “You seem to have thought of everything.”
“It’s what I do.”
We sat in silence for a moment. Through the café window, I watched pedestrians hurrying past, each focused on their own problems and starring in their own personal reality shows about their lives. None of them knew that inside, I was offering a stranger fifty thousand dollars to pretend to love me. If the board of Holland Enterprises could see me now, they’d think I’d lost my fucking mind. Maybe I had. But I’d been raised to take calculated risks, and Simora Campbell felt like one worth taking.
“What about physical contact?” she asked suddenly, a flush of nerves laced in her voice.
I raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“If we’re engaged, people will expect it. I mean, we’d have to appear comfortable with each other. Holding hands, maybe . . . other things.”
“Ah.” I hadn’t given that particular aspect much thought, which was unusual for me. “I guess some displays of affection would be necessary for authenticity. Nothing excessive.”
“Defined as?”
“Hand-holding. Possibly an occasional kiss on the cheek or forehead,” I responded, finding myself oddly uncomfortablewith the topic. “We can establish comfortable boundaries in the contract.”
She nodded again, appearing slightly relieved.
I continued. “I should warn you, there will be media attention. Holland Enterprises is high-profile, and my sudden engagement will make headlines.”
Simora frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that. Does that mean my name would become public?”
“Yes, though we could limit personal details about your son.” I studied her reaction, unsure of where her thoughts were. “Is that a concern for you?”
“Very much so,” she admitted. “I’m just a normal person with a private, boring life. I’ve never dealt with publicity.”
“The interest will fade once the week is over. I rarely make headlines for long.”
She laughed softly. It was a surprisingly pleasant sound. “Must be nice to consider media attention a temporary inconvenience.”
I found myself almost smiling in response. “More money, more problems.”
“Oh, poor you,” she replied with unexpected sarcasm, then immediately looked horrified at her own words. “Shit. I’m sorry. That was inappropriate.”
I was far from offended. If anything, I was intrigued by her willingness to speak her mind at a moment’s notice. “No need to apologize. I got bored with flattery and ass kissing a long time ago.”
She measured me curiously, as if reassessing who I was or what she thought she knew about me. The longer we sat in silence, the more I wondered what conclusions she was drawing in her head.
“One week,” she finally spoke. “Fifty thousand dollars. Separate bedrooms. And my son stays with me.”
“Yes.”
“When would this start?”
“Immediately. Today, ideally,” I answered, checking the big boy Patek hugging my wrist. “I can have the contracts ready for your review within the hour.”
She looked stupefied. “That’s so fast.”
“Time is limited. Garrick arrives in New York soon.”
Soon.Soon sounded like barely enough time to prepare her, to create a convincing backstory, to make sure she could swim in the deep end of the complex social world she’d be thrust into. I watched as she struggled with the decision, emotions playing across her gorgeous face—fear, doubt, hope, and relief. Then something shifted, a refreshing hint of grit in her brown orbs.
“If I agree to do this, I want health insurance for Mason included. For a year, not just the week.”
“What about for yourself?”
