“Here’s what’s going to happen. You’ll be my fake wife temporarily. In exchange, I’ll pay your tuition.”
I crinkle my nose. “Aren’t you engaged to someone else?”
He shakes his head. “The board didn’t approve of it. Something about her father flaking.”
“Doesn’t my father have to be part of the American Billionaire Club?”
He shoves his fingers into his pockets. “Not always. Since they’re desperate for me to run the business, I can choose my wife. I need to be married to someone in eleven days. You’ll be my fake wife. When we fix your bank issue, then we’ll break up.”
It sounds like a good plan, but I don’t know. I can’t afford to be in the spotlight. It’s bad enough Irvin posts me on his IG. I’m glad his account is private—but still. I don’t want my face plastered on any streaming services. More importantly, I don’t want my past to catch up to me.
“Do we have to be on television for our wedding?”
He strokes my cheek. “Yes.”
“Can they blur my face? I’m camera shy,” I lie.
He smiles, then licks his lips. “Okay.”
“This is temporary and fake, right?”
He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “Yes. You’ll sign a contract so you can trust me not to go back on my word.”
I tap my fingers on my chin. “What about our breakup? What will we tell people?”
He presses his soft lips to my palm, and desire blossoms inside of me.
“You didn’t love me anymore.”
I’m putting my identity on the line here—risking exposure—but I need the money to keep said identity, and I need his help. I’m desperate as fuck.
And I’m not going back to my old life.
“I’ll be your fake wife.”
I hold out my hand for him to shake it, but Irvin yanks me into his arms, slides his hands up my thighs, and squeezes my ass. My heart throbs as he presses his lips to mine, sealing our deal.
Lilac
My heart hammers as I open the door to the study inside the mansion on campus. A tall, lanky man leans against the fireplace, holding a glass in his hand. His inky hair is slicked back, neat, and the dark suit he wears hugs his muscular frame.
My gaze lands on Irvin next, and I suck in a breath.
His presence consumes the room as he rises from his chair, his loafers creaking against the wooden floor. His coal-black Armani suit molds to his hard muscles, and a lilac flower is tucked into the breast pocket of his jacket. His warm fingers stroke the side of my face, his icy jade eyes narrowing. A wicked smile stretches across his face, turning my insides to goo. Heat burns down my spine.
“You made it.” His voice is smooth like whiskey. He turns to the gentleman by the fireplace. “This is my lawyer, Nico. He’s the one who drew up the paperwork for our contract.”
The man stretches out his arm, and I place my hand in his warm palm. We shake, then I withdraw. Irvin slides his palminto mine and brings it to his mouth. His soft lips press against my skin, and I bite my lip.
Irvin ushers me to the wingback chair, and I sink nervously into the soft cushion.
He places a stack of papers in my hand, and we read over them. Then he tells me to sign on the dotted line.
My pulse spikes. Should I go through with this? Something feels off—warning bells blaze inside my skull.
I study the dotted line and glance back at Irvin.
“I don’t know about this.”
