Chapter 11: The Contract

MIA

I get out of the car.

The cold air hits my face. My legs feel weak. My mind is spinning. I walk toward the building, my feet moving on autopilot. Charlotte is still with Dean, laughing at something he said. I don't look back.

I climb the stairs. The familiar creak of the steps. The smell of curry and weed. I reach the apartment door. My hands are shaking as I turn the key.

I get inside. The door closes behind me. The apartment is quiet. Dark. I sink into the old armchair, the one with the broken spring that always digs into my thigh. I don't feel it.

I stare at the wall.

The stranger who I fucked. The professor who pretended I didn't exist. The man who just offered me ten million dollars to be his fake wife for a year.

What the hell just happened?

I sit there for what feels like an eternity. The chain of events is threatening to destroy my thought mind. One minute I'm a struggling student working double shifts. The next I'm being offered a fortune to pretend to be engaged to a man I barely know.

How am I going to break this to my grandmother? She's going to think I've lost my mind. She's going to worry. She's going to ask a thousand questions I don't have answers to.

The door swings open.

Charlotte walks in. Her smile is so wide it goes from eyebrow to eyebrow. She's practically glowing.

"Oh my God, Mia. That man. Dean. He is... he is something else." She flops onto the couch. "We talked for like, twenty minutes. He's so sexy. And he's funny. And he has this way of looking at you like you're the only person in the room. But also..." She pauses. Frowns. "He's a pick-me guy."

I blink. "A what?"

"You know. A pick-me. Like, he's too easy. He was flirting with me from the second we started talking. I didn't even have to try. And that's a turn-off, you know? Like, does he do this with every girl? Is there anyone he wouldn't fuck?"

I stare at her. "You had one conversation with him. And that's your analysis?"

"I can't help it." She shrugs. "I like a challenge. I like having to work for it. And he's just... there. Ready. Waiting. It feels like anyone could fuck him."

I shake my head. "You should be the difficult one, Charlotte. Make him work for it. So he knows what it means to fight for a girl."

She tilts her head. Considers this. "I like what you're driving at."

"It can end two ways," I add. "One: he chases you. Two: he runs away."

Charlotte grins. "Men like what they can't have. He's not running."

"Are you going to talk to him again?"

She pulls out her phone. Waves it. "He gave me his number. So yes. Definitely."

"That's nice."

She looks at me. Really looks at me. Her smile fades.

"Why do you look like you're caught between a rock and a hard place?" she asks. "Did something happen with Professor One-Night-Stand?"

I take a breath. Let it out.

"Something happened."

"Okay. Spill."

I tell her everything. The contract. The ten million dollars. The fake engagement. The year of pretending. The living together.

Charlotte's eyes go wide. "HE DID WHAT?"

I repeat myself. Slower. Louder.

"He asked me to be his fake fiancée for a year. Ten million dollars. My tuition covered. My grandmother's medical bills covered."

Charlotte jumps up from the couch. "And what did you say?"

"I said yes." I rub my face. "I need the money, Charlotte. I can't keep doing this. Working double shifts. Scraping by. Watching Gram get sicker because I can't afford better care. This is... this is my way out."

She stares at me. Her mouth is open. "Mia. That's insane. That's completely insane."

"I know."

"Do you know what you're getting into? You're going to have to pretend to be in love with him. Kiss him. Touch him. Live with him. Sleep in the same house. Go to events with his family. His friends. You're walking into a situation that is totally out of your control. Anything can happen when you have to act like you love someone."

I let my head fall into my hands. "I know."

She sits down next to me. Her voice softens. "Are you doing this just for the money? Or is there another reason?"

I don't answer.

"Mia."

"I don't know," I whisper. "I don't know anything anymore."

She sighs. "You're walking straight into a romance novel. Or a drama. Maybe both."

"He's sending someone to pick me up tomorrow. To move into his penthouse."

Charlotte looks at her phone. A notification lights up the screen. She's already distracted. Probably Dean.

"More," she says. "You can do this. Just... be careful. Please."

I stand up. Head toward the bathroom.

"I'm going to shower."

I close the door behind me. Lean against it. My reflection stares back at me in the mirror.

What have I gotten myself into?

— — —

ALEXANDER

I sit in the car.

The engine is still running. The heater hums. I watch her disappear into the building. The door closes behind her. She doesn't look back.

I let my head fall into my hands. My fingers press against my temples. The leather of the steering wheel is cold against my palms.

"Shit," I whisper.

I didn't expect to lie to my family and be engaged the very next day. The words are still echoing in my head. Ten million dollars. A year. A fake fiancée. What the hell have I done?

I look up. Dean is still outside. He's talking to the blonde one. Charlotte, I think she said. Her name. She's laughing at something he said. Her hand is on her hip. She's leaning in. He's leaning in. They're exchanging numbers.

Hopeless womanizer.

She waves at him and heads up the stairs. Dean watches her go. Then he gets back into the car. The door closes. The warmth wraps around him.

I start driving. The car pulls away from the curb. St. Marks Place fades in the rearview mirror.

"So," Dean says. "How'd it go?"

I keep my eyes on the road. "What do you think?"

He pulls the lever. His seat falls back. He stretches. Relaxes. "Well, I expected her to say no. Because you obviously need to learn some manners."

I side-eye him. "I have manners."

"Do you?" He grins. "Really? Because you're so fucking rude. Like, all the time. To everyone. It's kind of your thing."

"Fuck you, Dean."

"Exactly. That's what I'm talking about."

I roll my eyes. Turn left onto Broadway. The lights blur past.

"She accepted," I say.

Dean's grin widens. "Nice." He smirks. "I'll have to grab a cute girl and some popcorn for the show that's about to unfold."

"Of course you will."

He chuckles. "Also, Natasha is going to be fucking pissed. She's always been obsessed with you. Like, since you were kids. It's like she was trained to be your wife or something."

"Uh." I grimace. "Gross. Thank you very much for that disgusting revelation."

He raises his hands in surrender. "Sorry, sorry. You're so touchy lately." He chuckles again.

Idiot.

"So she's moving in tomorrow, huh?" He's texting on his phone. A smile plays on his lips.

Probably that blonde girl.

"Yeah," I say. "I'll send a driver to get her."

Dean doesn't respond. He's locked on his screen. His thumbs are moving quickly.

"I hope you're serious about this one this time."

He looks up. His grin is easy. "I'm serious about all my women. I have a very big heart. And I love all my women equally."

"Yeah, right. Until one woman cracks your skull with her heels."

He laughs. "That will never happen."

I pull into the underground parking lot. The Porsche's headlights illuminate the concrete. I find my spot and park. Kill the engine.

I need a drink after today.

Dean pockets his phone. "Don't forget about the Jaeger hunt tomorrow."

Right. The hunt.

I nod. Step out of the car. The garage is cold. Quiet.

I head for the elevator. Dean follows.

This is going to be a long week.