But I’ve committed now. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from watching Ben succeed in business, it’s that you don’t back down from an agreement once you’ve shaken hands on it.
Even if that agreement involves walking down an aisle toward the one person who could break your heart just by smiling at you.
CHAPTER 7
BEN
I’m moving fast as I stride toward the Willis Tower, but the quick pace does nothing to clear the fog in my head. I’ve been awake since four AM. Lying in bed. Staring at the ceiling. Replaying every moment of last night’s dinner with Red and Marnie. Every word Freya uttered, every smile she flashed, every time her hand touched mine.
The doorman nods as I enter the building. “Good morning, Mr. Lawlor.”
“Morning, James.”
The elevator ride to the forty-second floor feels longer than usual, giving me too much time to contemplate. By the time I reach my office, I’ve made a decision. I need to get ahead of this situation before it spirals completely out of control.
I drop my briefcase on my desk and immediately reach for my phone. Texting my executive assistant, Anthony: “Need to see you and Carson in my office. 30 minutes. Confidential.”
The response comes back within seconds: “Of course. Should I prepare anything?”
“Be prepared to sign NDAs,” I type back.
I quickly draft up the NDAs, feeling ridiculous.
How do you inform your closest professional associates that you’ve agreed to fake-marry your best friend? How do you make that sound like a reasonable commercial decision instead of the desperate improvisation it actually is?
This is exactly why I don’t get involved with women beyond a week here and there. Relationships are messy. Distracting. They make you question decisions that should be straightforward.
Twenty minutes later Anthony and Carson are seated across from my desk, both appearing curious and slightly concerned. Carson is younger than Anthony, mid-twenties, with an aggressive ambition that reminds me of myself ten years ago. He’s been handling my public image for two years, and he’s excellent at his job. Maybe too excellent. Sometimes I think he enjoys the publicity side of my enterprise more than I do.
“Before we start,” I announce, sliding two NDAs across the desk, “I need you both to sign these.”
Anthony picks up his copy and scans it quickly, his expression carefully neutral. Carson, on the other hand, grins like I’ve just handed him an early Christmas present.
“This is about a woman, isn’t it?” Carson responds, signing his name with a flourish. “I knew it. The press has been speculating about your love life for months. This is perfect timing.”
“Carson.” My voice carries a warning that makes him sit back in his chair. “Let me finish before you start planning publicity campaigns.”
Anthony signs his NDA more slowly, with the careful attention to detail that makes him invaluable. When both documents are back on my desk, I take a breath and dive in.
“I’m getting married.”
The words hang in the air for a moment. Anthony’s expression remains professionally neutral, but I can see the confusion behind his eyes. Carson, predictably, appears like he’s about to start planning a parade.
“Congratulations,” Anthony says carefully. “When?”
“July. And before you ask, yes, it’s sudden. Very sudden.”
“Who’s the lucky woman?” Carson asks, already pulling out his phone. “Do we need to do background checks? Media training? Damage control for any past relationships?”
“Her name is Freya Hull. She’s a graphic designer and artist here in Chicago.” I pause. “We’ve been friends since high school.”
“Friends to lovers,” Carson nods approvingly. “That’s a great narrative. Very authentic.”
If only he knew how authentic. Or rather, how inauthentic.
“There’s something else you both need to understand,” I continue, feeling like I’m about to jump off a cliff. “The marriage is… strategic.”
Anthony goes very still.
