Page 11 of The Fake Family Deal

I suppose looking sexy at work isn’t most people’s usual concern.

She gets to the final page of the contract and hesitates. Then, at last, she picks up a pen and carefully signs it. I breathe a sigh of relief. If she can just keep her mouth shut about the lie, this plan will go perfectly.

“One more thing,” I say, waving the next contract in front of Marina’s face.

“What’s this?” she says, frowning deeply again. I can’t help but notice her little button nose and the dimples in her cheeks as she does.

I have to stop getting distracted. I’m not supposed to be feeling anything for her at all, attraction or otherwise.

“Nondisclosure agreement,” I say. “You cannot tell one single soul on earth that this is a fabrication.”

She shrugs and signs that one without question. Really? She put up such a fuss about the other contracts, but she barely needs to have a second look at this one? Nothing about her makes sense. At least this means she’ll keep quiet.

That really is the most important part of this deception. If either of us speak, it makes me look worse than ever.

“Great. Thank you, Marina,” says Priscilla, smiling warmly. “Now, maybe you two should get to know each other a little better.”

We both groan, and Priscilla raises her eyebrows. “If you’re going to pretend to be married, you at least have to know something about each other. Marina, tell us about your career.”

Her cheeks blush faintly pink, and I wonder if she’s actually embarrassed or if it’s just a natural reaction to having attention on her.

I couldn’t relate less to that. I love attention. I guess that’s why I’m famous and she’s not.

“Well, I’ve mostly worked in offices. I was PA for the CEO of Seattle East Bank for three years.”

“Those guys suck,” I interrupt, sneering. “They canceled my credit card without warning one time.”

“They were decent employers, though.”

It’s like she has to argue with every single thing I say. It’s a good thing we’re not actually married, because this level of tension in my life would be unbearable. Or maybe this is realistic. If we’re bickering like this already, maybe we’ll give the impression of a long-term married couple, tired of getting in each other’s way all the time.

Which does lead to certain questions about where she’s been hiding all this time, because surely if I had a wife I’d want to show her off. But these are details. Priscilla is already getting her team to work on a fully convincing backstory for us to learn.

Anyway, I don’t have a whole lot of confidence in most people’s intelligence. Most people swallow anything you tell them.

I bite my tongue to let her continue. “But unfortunately, they laid me off when I went on maternity leave.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal,” I say. “You’re not allowed to discriminate against people for things like that.”

“In theory, no.” She shrugs, her face twisting with barely concealed bitterness. “But in practice, I went on maternity leave — and basically got told not to come back.”

My own face falls into a frown. I knew those guys sucked, but that’s the kind of treatment I would ensure never befell my employees. Sure, it’s annoying when people go on leave, but everyone’s entitled to a vacation every now and again. Even more so, I guess, when you’re literally giving birth.

And then a sickening realization hits me. “What about the father? Who was he?”

Marina’s blush deepens, the red of her face bringing out her eyes even more. “There isn’t one. I mean, obviously there is, but he was one great night of an awful holiday in Europe. An accident fueled by slightly too many tequila shots.”

I chuckle. The tequila shots. We’ve all been there.

Before I can speak, though, Marina’s face hardens, and she adds, “He was a mistake, but my baby never will be.”

“Message received,” I say, throwing her a mock salute.

That seems to relax her, her shoulders visibly sagging. “Yeah. You don’t have to worry about him. He doesn’t even know that she exists. He barely even spoke English.”

“And did you speak Spanish?” I ask.

She shrugs. “I can order a glass of wine. Doesn’t help that we were in Italy, though.”

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