Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Ben gives a brief shake of his head, and Nick doesn’t push it. I focus on the cod. The sauce is really salty, but I’m not that hungry, and I don’t want to upset anyone by complaining. I eyed some cashews in the minibar in my room. I’ve been wanting an excuse to open them.
“What about her friend Rosemary?”
Ben’s jaw tightens. “No.” He glances at me. I pull my mouth into a smile. He looks down at my plate. “You don’t like it?”
“I’m just not that hungry,” I say with a shrug.
“If none of your exes, then who?” Nick asks.
Ben beckons over the waitress, and I send up a silent prayer, hoping he’s not going to say anything more about my cod. I really hope I haven’t offended him.
“We’d like another main course. What would you prefer?” he asks, looking at me.
I smile at the waitress. “I’m fine. Really.”
“A selection of starters, then,” he says to the waitress. She nods once and disappears.
I start to apologize. “I’m sorry, I—”
“No apologies.” He turns back to Nick. “We need to come up with a different solution,” Ben says. “I’m not getting fake-engaged to anyone.”
“I’m telling you, there is no other solution, and not even transforming into the ultimate family man is a guarantee. The duke isn’t driven by logic when it comes to his hotel group. He’s entirely driven by emotion. If you’re not willing to be the man he wants to sell to, then you need to give up on your desire to own those hotels.”
“Never,” Ben says.
I try to focus on the embossed pattern on the tablecloth and my plans for the next day and the way my arm still buzzes, even though it’s been at least twenty minutes since Ben touched me. Nick and Ben continue to argue about the approach to take with the duke. I’m happy to not be included at all in their discussion. I’m not pretending to be an almost-stranger’s fiancée just so he can buy some hotel.
“Accept the invitation on my behalf,” Ben says. “And I’ll bring a plus-one.”
“Finally,” Nick says.
Well, it won’t be me, I don’t say, just as a selection of appetizers appears. “I’m planning a day trip to Stonehenge this weekend. It’s where Daniel De Luca filmed the most heartbreaking scene ever—when his wife dies in Antonia.” I wasn’t actually planning on that trip, but I happened to notice it listed on the convention roster, and it sounds plausible. Ben doesn’t seem to be listening.
“That was a terrible film,” Nick says.
Everyone thought it was a terrible film, but I still feel like I should defend it. “That movie showcased some of his greatest acting.” I take a forkful of rice studded with pine nuts and fat, green olives. It’s delicious.
“Would twenty thousand dollars be useful?” Ben says out of nowhere, and I do a cartoon gulp, visible to everyone in the restaurant.
“Are you asking . . . me?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer but continues to hold my gaze in a way that might be terrifying if he wasn’t so completely attractive.
I look away because my lips begin to buzz like they’re impatient for a kiss, and I’m a little concerned I’m going to lunge at Ben. “When isn’t twenty thousand dollars useful?”
“That’s a very good point,” he says. “So would you be my fiancée for the weekend for twenty thousand dollars?”
I open my mouth but words don’t come out.
Of course I don’t want to disappoint Ben. I never want to disappoint anyone, which Melanie would tell me is both my best and worst quality. Twenty thousand dollars is a lot of money. Money that’s particularly useful to someone with no savings and an apartment in Manhattan to find and finance. But I can’t take money for . . . lying. It seems wrong. And I can’t provide a girlfriend experience. Even for free. Ask Jed.
“I’m sorry, I can’t.”
Ben looks disappointed. It sounds like he really wants these hotels and has to have a fiancée to get them. I need to leave. Right now. Or I’m going to find myself doing something I shouldn’t and saying yes to something I should definitely and completely say no to.
“Please excuse me . . .” I hold my hand to my ear. “I can hear Netflix calling my name. See you tomorrow morning at Coffee Confide in Me, Ben. Nice to meet you, Nick.”
And before either of them can say anything to stop me, I race toward the life-size cutout of Daniel De Luca that’s been placed by the elevator.
Chapter Six
It’s seven thirty-seven and I’m at my desk outside Mr. Jenkins’s office, ready for when the man himself arrives. If I ever get to the point in my career when I employ a project manager, I will definitely want them to arrive before me.
The offices here are very different from New York. Long, dark, narrow corridors and poky rooms, compared to the spacious, bright, floor-to-ceiling-windowed space of our Wall Street offices. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Daniel De Luca filmed Big Money on this exact floor of the building. It has the same brown leather chairs opposite the elevators and the same mahogany paneling on every wall. If only Daniel De Luca was about to arrive to boss me around. I’ve seen Mr. Jenkins on Zoom and can guarantee he’s not going to get mistaken for my teenage crush anytime soon. Then again, I’m definitely not going to get mistaken for America’s sweetheart, Julia Alice. My thighs are way too wide, and my hair is not nearly as shiny.