Page 21 of Sweet Surrender

I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. Jase Gizmodo of BENT is asking me—plain ol’ cookie cutter me—to marry him, the huge world-renowned star.

Pretend marry.

Marriage of convenience marry, but still marry, nonetheless.

“Miss Wright? Are you okay?” Nathaniel asks.

“How about no? To both me being okay and to the question. Just no. On the account of the fact that one, this is crazy-pants shit that actually goes on in Hollywood and two, like, what the fuck, Jase? I just met you.” Panic laced with some weird form of excited adrenaline spreads my lips into a smile that I don’t feel like I can control.

“True on all accounts,” Nathaniel says, “but at the same time, let’s remove all emotions from it and look at what it actually is. A contractual obligation. A business agreement.”

“With one of the biggest stars on the planet. No big deal.” My words drip with sarcasm as Nathaniel nods and Jase grins.

But as our stares hold, I realize that I need to look at this through a different lens. To step back and remember what Jase asked me in his opening greeting when he called me yesterday. At the end of the day, this is about money. “Okay.” I pause and I can see Nathaniel’s defensive posture relax slightly. Clearly, he’s noticed that mine has too. “So we’re talking about a business transaction, right? I pretend marry you and in exchange you pay me a fee for this . . . inconvenience?”

“Inconvenience. Yes,” Nathaniel says and smiles, his eyes flickering over to taunt his brother. Clearly, big brother is enjoying torturing little brother with my lack of a ringing endorsement.

“I’d like to think of myself as more of a good time than an inconvenience,” Jase teases.

I have no doubt that he is just that.

“And you’re correct,” Nathaniel answers, getting back to business. “There would be payment.”

“For how long does this farce last? How much is the payment? What are the parameters? How the hell do you fake a wedding when it’s someone like him?” I ask the questions as fast as my mind can think them.

“It lasts until my next meeting with the judge, which is in a little over four months. He said if he’s seen improvement, or rather proof of change, then it’ll be a done deal, permission to travel granted. As for the parameters between you and Jase? If you agree to it, then we iron those out together. There will be minimal staged public appearances, outings where you’ll need to accompany Jase, and . . . you’ll have to move in with him to sell the authenticity.”

Move in with him? I don’t know why that never crossed my mind.

“The media is rabid, Miss Wright. They’ll run with any reason to not believe this. For Jase’s sake and the judge’s sake, it needs to, by all intents and purposes, be real.”

“Jesus,” I mutter.

“You’re telling me,” Jase says dubiously.

“As far as a wedding, I’m thinking an elopement. Las Vegas is easy, quick, and will fly under the radar. Not too much fanfare, which shouldn’t ruin or upset you, and any real ceremony you plan to have someday with a real husband,” Nathaniel says in his all-business tone.

Real husband.

“So just pictures?” I ask.

“No. It needs to be legitimate. We’ll file for the marriage license, do a small ceremony, leak a few pictures to the press, and then have you guys act all upset that your privacy was ruined. We’ll create a backstory that you’ve been seeing each other secretly for months and that while it was a whirlwind romance, you guys are soulmates, yada, yada, yada.”

“But I had a boyfriend. Three weeks ago,” I state.

“Then you’ll have met a few months ago. We’ll paint the narrative that you were friends and once your relationship ended, Jase made a move.”

Paul will lose his shit. Top-button-fastened, belt-on-without-exception, stiff-upper-lip Paul who loves rock music, will lose his ever-loving mind.

“It’s just that easy?” I ask, surprised. “Feed lies to the press and they run with it?”

“Sadly, it is that easy,” Nathaniel says.

I stare at both men with my head nodding and my brain trying to process the ridiculousness of all of this. “And how soon would this need to happen?”

“A few days? This weekend? The sooner the better to establish a record that Jase has calmed his ways,” Nathaniel says while both Jase and I physically recoil. A few days?

“Oh,” I say.