“I’m not that good of an actress,” I tell him sweetly.
“Try. It’s part of the deal, and oneyourequested.” He looks down at the many inches separating our bodies. “You could try touching me.”
“You wish.”
“Maybe you’d rather stand out here for another twenty minutes to get a usable shot, but it’s my time you’re wasting,” he says. “Put your hands on my chest. On my shoulder.”
I put my palms flat on his chest, against the expensive fabric of his suit jacket, and don’t look away from his eyes. They’re an irritatingly deep green color. It would be so mucheasier if he didn’t have to be handsome on top of being ruthless, egotistical, and power-hungry.
“Happy?” I ask him.
“Ecstatic. Now smile for me, Wilde, and we can call it a day.”
I look into his eyes and give a slow, sweet smile. I imagine it’s not him I’m looking at. No, I’m looking at a pair of puppies playing in the park. Rolling around in the dappled grass, sunlight overhead. I imagine the ocean outside my hometown on a stormy day.
I smile at him like he’s my favorite person in the world.
His jaw tightens and his eyes flick down to my mouth.
“That’s it!” the photographer says, and the camera snaps.Click, click, click.I can’t feel Rafe’s heart beating beneath my palms.
Maybe he has none.
“Perfect. Yes, just like that. Could you lean in a bit, sir? Like you’re whispering a secret in her ear?”
Rafe’s mouth presses into a tight line. But he does what he’s told, which must be unusual for him, with being one of the world’s most powerful and influential businessmen. He leans in past my cheek, hidden from view of the camera.
His stubble brushes my skin. “Want to make a bet?” he asks.
I pause, my hands still on his chest. His voice is low, almost intimate, but there’s an edge to it that sends a shiver down my spine.
“What?” I whisper through my smile.
“The divorce clause in our marriage? You’ll be the one to ask for it long before me.”
“Never,” I grind out behind my smile.
Rafe pulls back to meet my eyes. There’s a glint of triumph there that makes my stomach drop. “Think you’ll stand being married to a man you hate?”
“It’ll be easy,” I say. “You don’t know the first thing aboutme, so you have no idea what you’re in for. I bet I’m going to drive you out of your mind.”
“You’re welcome to try.” He stays there for another long moment, face uncomfortably close, before stepping away. His hand falls away from my waist.
“We’re done,” he tells the photographer.
CHAPTER 3
RAFE
The day after Paige Wilde becomes my wife, she steps onto my plane like it’s a stage. Of course a woman who made a late entrance to her own courthouse wedding wouldn’t board a jet quietly.
She’s twenty minutes late again.
I pretend to ignore the ways she inspects the plane. Looking around like she’s a connoisseur. Like every inch is there to be judged, and she’s happy to oblige. That long blonde hair is braided down her back today. She’s in a navy set, soft-looking pants and a sweatshirt, hiding her lithe frame. But her smile is just as sharp.
She introduces herself to my crew and spends a few long minutes chatting with them, tasting the champagne, making them laugh. Makingfriends.I tune her out and focus on the Mather & Wilde financials on my laptop. There’s work to be done.
That’s the one thing I can always count on.
