“All I ask is that you try.”
He’s still smiling at me, the expression sinking into something comfortable on his face. And there’s a subtle heat to it that has me snatching the pen back.
“As two single people living in close proximity, I believe it is important we keep this completely platonic. An agreement between friends, which means no fooling around.” I can’t meet Charlie’s eyes when I make this declaration, instead focusing on where the point of the pen meets the paper. “Agreed?”
A pause.
Then, “Agreed.”
“Good.”
Good, I repeat to my brain silently, to make sure it’s on the same page.
Yes, Charlie is an attractive, kind man. But the end goal of this is more important than any brief pleasure we’d get from a hookup that would just end up destroying our carefully created partnership. We have to get through this year with our sham of a marriage intact if I want any hope of freeing my brother.
“Might as well add for clarification that this all lasts until May 11 of next year. Then you’ll be free of me, off to live the new life you’ll have decided you want.”
When I glance up from the paper, having finished writing that last rule, I’m met with the sight of Charlie’s back. Instead of facing me, he stares out the window into my backyard, seeming lost in thought.
“A year,” Charlie murmurs. “Probably be over before we know it.”
CHAPTER 21
LUNA
“I’m here!” Charlie strides down the hallway of the courthouse toward me.
I brace myself for when he gets an eyeful.
I’m not wearing white. Or a dress.
For maybe five minutes, I considered it. Getting something lacy with a bunch of frills. And I’d probably look good. But I wouldn’t look like me, and there’s enough insincerity in this ceremony already that I decided to dress up, but in the way I prefer.
Which is why I have on a suit. The cut fits me perfectly, and the ensemble is my favorite piece of clothing in my closet. I treated myself to a custom-tailored suit after I got my first official client. Probably should have put that initial paycheck in my savings, but for the first time in a long time, I gave myself permission to buy something completely impractical that made me happy.
And I don’t realize until this moment how much it would crush me to see disappointment on Charlie’s face. To watch himscan my outfit and twist his lips to hide a dissatisfied grimace. Because I’m not the model bride.
No matter that this is all fake anyway.
But now the real Charlie is in front of me, with his eyes consuming me, three-piece and all.
“That suit looks amazing on you. Hell, I’ve never worn a suit that well.”
My fake fiancé smooths a hand down his lapel, but from his grin, I know he’s not concerned about being outshone.
And I’m suddenly very glad I added that rule to our contract because I have the oddest urge to climb Charlie and claim his grinning lips in a hot kiss.
Not acceptable thoughts about my husband!
It’s probably the suit. His suit, not mine. Charlie paid me a high compliment when he said I looked better than him. Because, damn, my future fake husband is fine.
Tall, dark, and handsome has never been a more apt statement.
Every inch of his suit is black. The jacket and pants, of course, but also the shirt and the long, thin tie. He must have gone to a barber because his fade is perfection, as is his close shave. And, God, the way his ebony skin stretches over that strong jaw of his …
It’s enough to have this fake fiancé wondering why we aren’t doing this for real.
Stop it! The suits are to blame!
