Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Paige laughs. “Stop it. You’re beautiful and smart, and you come from a wealthy family. You practically drip elegance. Sure, you’d have to fake being dumb, but there’s no way any red-blooded male in his right mind wouldn’t pick you to hang on his arm. Worst-case scenario”—Paige shrugs—“you pick up a guy at a bar and convince him to fake marry you.”
The thought of having to search bars or clubs to pick up a guy and convince him to marry me for pretend makes my skin crawl. “Hopefully, there’s someone from that service in Texas who’s looking for a wife.”
“Wait, Texas?” She frowns. “Does that mean you’re moving?”
“That’s where Kingston’s headquarters is.”
Paige’s eyes go wide. “You’re going to have to quit Benson.”
“I know. I can’t work here while trying to vie for the CEO position there.”
Paige nods. “I’m going to miss you!” She flings her arms around me for a hug.
When we pull back, I swallow nervously and then say, “Looks like I’ll be putting in my two weeks’,” while wondering if I’m in over my head.
Can I really do this? Find a fake husband, move to Texas, and show up on my dad’s front step, demanding he give me the chance to prove I’m capable of running his company.
Looks like there’s only one way to find out.
“We need to find the number to that arranged-marriage service.”
chapter two
JULIAN
Sharp nails scrape down my back, startling me awake. It takes me a second to remember where I am and who I’m with—at a hotel in Houston with a nameless woman I brought back here last night. Once I do, I stay still, hoping she’ll give up and head out without me having to give the always-awkward this is never happening again speech.
But of course, like all the women who’ve come before her and who’ll come after her, she doesn’t get the hint, choosing to suction herself to my backside while she drags her fingers around my torso and down to my cock. When she gives it a squeeze, I roll away from her and get out of bed, not wanting her to think there’s the slightest chance anything more will be happening between us.
When I picked her up at the club, I made sure she knew the deal—one night, no strings, and tomorrow, we part ways. Women always agree in the moment, hoping they’ll be the one to change my mind, and then I’m stuck being the bad guy when I make it clear there’s no chance of a future.
They’ll start off pouting, hoping to hit me in my feelings, and when that doesn’t work, they bring on the seduction, thinking sex is the way to a man’s heart. And when that still does nothing to change my mind, they’ll get pissed and stomp out, spouting some bullshit about how I sucked in bed to convince themselves that walking away was their choice and not mine.
And I’ll let them say it because I know the multiple orgasms they screamed out in bed the night before weren’t fake, and if it were up to them, they’d latch on like the leeches they are. But that’s not happening.
“Hey, sweetheart,” I say because I can’t for the life of me remember her name. “It’s been fun, but I’ve got somewhere I need to be.”
Her pout is instantaneous, and I internally groan, knowing it’s not going to be easy to get rid of her.
An hour later—after being told I suck in bed at least three times and stopping at home to shower and change—I’m on my way to Rosemary Country Club to golf and have lunch with my boss, at his request.
Rosemary is a quaint town about thirty minutes south of Houston, so it doesn’t take long to get anywhere you’re going. I’ve lived here my entire life, but it wasn’t until a few years ago that I stopped renting my small apartment and bought a home of my own in a development I’d only dreamed I could afford, growing up.
After leaving my car with the valet, I head to where I know Samuel will be waiting for me. I’ve only just entered the lobby when he spots me.
“Julian, thanks for coming.” He shakes my hand and then pulls me in for a hug. “I hope I didn’t force you to end your date early.”
He smirks, and I chuckle. When I was leaving last night, I mentioned going on a date—read: picking up a random woman in the club. He told me if it rolls over to morning, then she’s probably the one. If he only knew that I didn’t bring her back to my place, instead opting to check in to a hotel room in Houston so there would be no chance of running into her again.
“I don’t think there will be another date,” I say with a shrug.