Xavier stared at the box, then at me. "It was a gift."
"It was just a show."
"Kim—"
"The terms of our contract are clear. You're paying me a hundred thousand dollars to pretend to be your girlfriend forthree months. Anything beyond that is..." I searched for the right word. "Unnecessary."
"It's a necklace, not a bribe."
"I know. But I'd feel better if you kept it."
He studied me for a long moment. I couldn't read his expression. Finally, he reached out and took the box, his fingers brushing mine briefly. "Fine," he said quietly. "But for the record, I bought it for you. Not for the arrangement."
I didn't know what to say to that. So I just nodded and left, my skin still tingling where he'd touched me.
Dani had already picked up Zoe from school. My car was parked in its usual spot, finally repaired thanks to the fifty thousand dollars currently sitting in my bank account. Half of Xavier's payment was delivered the day after I signed the contract.
It still felt surreal. More money than I'd ever had at one time. Enough to fix the car, pay off the past-due bills, and put a real cushion in my savings account. All I had to do was pretend to love a man I was trying very hard not to actually like.
I picked up Zoe from Dani's apartment. We spent the evening together—dinner, homework, bath time, stories. The comfortable routine that kept us both grounded. I soaked in every moment with her, storing them up like provisions for a long winter.
Then I had to take her back to Dani's for the night. My bar shift started at ten, and I wouldn't be home until three.
"Be good," I told her, kissing her forehead. "I'll see you in the morning."
"Love you, Mommy."
"Love you more."
Dani gave me a look as I handed over Zoe's overnight bag. "You okay? You seem distracted."
"Long day."
"Mmhmm." She nodded in sympathy. "One day at a time, girl."
The bar was busy for a Monday. A few regulars at their usual spots, a birthday party in the back corner, the steady stream of people looking to shake off the workday with a drink or three. I tied on my apron and got to work.
Pour. Serve. Smile. Repeat.
Around eleven, I caught myself thinking about Xavier again. His hands. His mouth. What did that even mean? Why would he buy me jewelry if not for show? Why would he…
The door swung open. I looked up automatically, ready to greet whoever was stumbling in for a late-night drink.
My stomach dropped.
Xavier walked through the door. Behind him came the mullet guy, the friend from before, and one other man I vaguely recognized from that first night. Chuck was visibly absent.
And on Xavier's arm was a beautiful woman with shiny red hair. She was wearing a black dress that barely covered anything, her body pressed against his side, her laugh carrying across the bar as she said something into his ear.
So, the contract meant nothing to him. He could still do whatever he wanted. And here I thought he was actually taking this seriously. How typical of him.
I turned away. Started wiping down the bar with more force than necessary. It didn't matter. None of this mattered. We had an arrangement, not a relationship. He was free to see whoever he wanted.
And free to bring other women to my bar on my shift, apparently.
The group settled into a booth near the back. I heard more laughter, the redhead's high and musical, Xavier's lower rumble beneath it.
I didn't look over. Focused on my work. Took orders from other customers, mixed drinks, and collected tips. Professional. Detached.
