Black Ties and White Lies: A Billionaire Fake Engagement

CHAPTER 2MARGO“IT’S BEEN AWHILE, MARGO,” Beck drawls, his scowl making me squirm. I forgot how sexy his voice is, especially with my name on his lips.“Beck…” I say in disbelief. My ex-boyfriend, Carter, had told me that his brother was successful. But then, the whole Sinclair family was wealthy. I’d been so swept up in Carter I hadn’t really paid too much attention to it. Quite frankly, I’d tried to forget Beckham ever existed. But now, with Carter out of the picture, and Beckham “Beck” Sinclair standing in front of me, it’s hard not to be hit in the face with just how successful he is.The shiny cufflink he fiddles with probably costs more than my rent. The suit, probably more expensive than the fuel-efficient car I share with Emma. When I’d met Beck, he hadn’t looked like this. It’d been during a weekend trip to one of their many vacation homes in the Hamptons. He was dressed incredibly casual compared to the way he stands in front of me right now.Beck smiles but the gesture does

MARGOSO MANY WORDS fly through my head, none of them managing to leave my mouth. It doesn’t happen often, but he’s rendered me speechless.Beck’s smile is almost predatory. He knows his answer has taken me by surprise. I’m backed into a corner, unsure how to get myself out of it. I hadn’t expected him to remember my favorite creative outlet. Especially since Carter always told people I painted, even though he’d never seen me with a paintbrush the entire duration of our relationship. I’d just assumed that’s what Beck would’ve thought I did, too.“Tell me what it means to be your assistant.” I try to fold my arms across my midsection in a defensive position, but all it does is make the wire of my bra dig into my rib cage even further. My hands slide into my lap instead, my eyes still watching Beck carefully.“Does it matter? You start Monday.”“I haven’t even agreed to it yet.”“It’d be silly for you not to say yes. It’s a significant pay bump, and you’ll be out of this place.” His fing

MARGOON THE OUTSIDE, I hope I at least appear put together. With Beck no longer in my personal space, the spicy scent of his expensive cologne overtaking my senses, I’m attempting, yet horribly failing, to think straight. I’m at least attempting to appear normal. On the inside, I’m freaking the fuck out.The only thing in my mind is a constant replay of Beck’s words. The mental image of me bent over this table, wondering what it’d feel like to have him take me from behind. These are absolutely thoughts I shouldn’t be having—especially about my new boss who is also my ex’s hotter older brother. I’m apparently about to partake in a fake fiancée charade with him; plus, I’m now having dirty thoughts about the two of us and this table. It all equates to a terrible idea.“I don’t want to be embarrassed again, Beck,” I say, my voice lowered as I try my best to keep it steady. The last thing I need is for my voice to give away the effect his words have on me. “Everyone looked at me like I wa

MARGOI’M late by over five minutes.In my defense, it’s not really my fault. Emma takes four of those minutes by trying to get me to explain where I’m going with Beck. She doesn’t believe me when I answer truthfully. I have no freaking clue what Beck has planned for the day, what his motives are for showing up on my last day of work at 8-bit. But damn, I might be a little excited to find out.When I finally convince her that I’ll give her updates the moment I know what’s happening, it takes another four minutes for me to grab my things and check my appearance in the compact I keep in my handbag.The last minute is spent rushing out. Darla attempts to fire questions at me on my way out, but all I do is give her a smile. “I’m going to miss you, Darla,” I lie. Wrapping my arms around her, I give her one tight squeeze. I won’t miss her in the slightest, but part of me will miss this place. Even though I hated what I did here, it was my first real job. I got to start with Emma, it’s a bit

BECKMARGO ISN’T SHY about making her feelings known about the unexpected departure tomorrow. I’ve been sitting on the edge of her bed, taking in the mess that is her room, as she loudly packs her bags. She can’t do anything without adding some theatrics to it.Her bathroom door slaps the wall as she flings it open, a large toiletry bag in her hand.Even when she tosses the bag in her open suitcase, it’s thrown harder than necessary. She walks to her closet, flicking through the clothes on the hangers. The hangers make loud scraping noises on the rod as she looks through them, occasionally pulling clothes off the hanger and tossing them onto the bed.“You know packing all of this isn’t necessary,” I note, picking up a sweater that seems to have seen better days. I hold it by the collar, noting the fraying threads scattered throughout the worn knitting.Margo turns around, giving me a dirty look. I’d never tell her this, but the look is far more endearing than it is intimidating. “I ne