“Ryder,” I say, aiming for nonchalance and landing somewhere between “wheeze” and “robot glitch.”
We sit.
Ash takes the armchair. I curl into the far end of the couch with a mug of tea. Liam grabs a beer from the fridge and sits across from Ash, totally at ease.
I am not at ease.
Because every time Ash moves, I remember his hand on my waist. His breath on my cheek. The way he kissed me like he was memorizing my mouth.
He, of course, looks like none of that happened.
Professional. Focused.
Fine.
Two can play that game.
“So,” Liam says, cracking the can open. “What’s this mysterious meeting about?”
Ash leans forward, forearms braced on his knees. His voice is steady. No nonsense.
“Look,” he says. “I need to fix my public image. Fast. You know about the lawsuit. The headlines.”
Liam nods, expression tightening.
Ash turns to me now, eyes direct. “And you need money.”
My grip on my mug tightens.
He doesn’t say it cruelly. Just... as a fact. Like something we all already know and don’t need to pretend about.
“I’m offering a solution,” he continues. “You need stability. I need credibility. A fake marriage gets us both what we want.”
I blink. “A what?”
“Marriage,” Ash repeats, like it’s a perfectly reasonable suggestion. “Real on paper. Only the three of us would know it’s not real. Contracted. One year. We live together. Go public. Do the photos, the interviews, the ‘aww, they’re so in love’ thing. Then we part ways and you walk away with more money than most people make in five years.”
I almost choke on my tea.
Liam laughs. “Okay, hilarious. Seriously though, what’s the plan?”
Ash doesn’t laugh.
Liam stops.
His smile fades. “Wait. You’re serious?”
“Dead serious,” Ash says. “I’ve already drafted terms.”
I stare at him, heart hammering, mind racing.
Because this is insane. Utterly unhinged.
And yet…
Liam is blinking.
Processing.
