8
JENNA
The following Monday
Ihummed under my breath as I walked down the hall to my office, flipping through the mail stacked in my arms. There was nothing but holiday cards, customer complaints, the usual December clutter.
I nudged my door open with my hip, dropped the mail onto my desk, and flicked on the lights.
“What the—” I dropped my bag at the sight of Nicholas sitting behind my desk.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” I asked. “And why were you sitting in the dark?”
“Because I’ve been thinking.”
“Pretty sure you can do that with the lights on.”
“I’m minutes away from offering you a million-dollar bonus.” He smiled. “Say yes.”
Hell yes. Wait, no…“I need to know the terms first.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“Not when you’re sneaking into my office like a psychopath.” I walked over to my bookshelf and picked up a green gift box, throwing it to him. “That’s for Laura’s mom. She really likes all things Switzerland, so she’ll love that.”
“I ended things with Laura before the weekend started,” he said.
“Why?”
“If she can’t fool Marshall by even ten percent, she won’t be able to fool anyone else.”
“Oh…” I crossed my arms. “I’m so sorry you have to hold off on your inheritance this way. A five-year wait has to be tough.”
“I don’t plan on holding off on it at all.”
“You have another option in mind?”
“Yes.” His gaze dropped, deliberate. “You.”
I looked over my shoulder, assuming there was someone behind me.
I didn’t see anyone, so I stepped back and peered into the hallway.
“You, Jenna Dawson,” he clarified. “I need you to be my wife—well, fiancée—and I need you to tell your family you’re coming home to see them so we can fake a few memories for the cameras.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” The words rushed out of my mouth. “Better yet, show me exactly where you hit your head this morning so I can have your doctor come check you out.”
“I’m being serious, Jenna.”
“You can’t be,” I said. “My entire family thinks I’m not coming home, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Is that the only issue you have with the scenario?”
“No.” I wanted to shake some sense into him. “There’s also the potential of going to prison for marriage fraud, losing my well-earned reputation among my coworkers here, and mostimportantly, having to deal with you for more hours than I have to.”
“I said I’d pay you a million dollars.”
“That’s not enough.”
