Page 112 of One Big Little Secret

Right now, it’s hanging by its very last worn thread.

“Your choice,” I bite off. “One room. One bed. Whatever.”

“Okay. Now that we have that settled…” She sends me a nervous glance before stepping over to the floor-to-ceiling window and looking out at the mountains in the distance. There are more suites farther to our right, but the place does a remarkable job with positioning for maximum privacy.

It looks like there’s nothing else around.

No one to hear if we—

Stop. Right the hell now.

But there’s something else I need to ask her, and considering she’s insisting on this death sentence of one shared bed, there’s no time like the present.

“Salem?” Even saying her name feels weirdly intimate here—or maybe it’s just the fact that I know what I’m about to say next.“I need to come clean. There’s another reason I brought you here and you’re going to hate it.”

She stops halfway through smelling the fresh flowers on the small table by the window and flashes me a suspicious glance.

“Huh? You mean this isn’t just a learning lesson in a gorgeous place I’m lucky to step foot in?”

“It is, but I also hoped you might help me out with a little problem.” I clear my throat loudly. Her suspicious expression doesn’t ease for one second. “I was hoping you might attend the conference tomorrow as more than an employee I’m mentoring.”

Brutal pause. Her eyes sharpen.

“I’d like you to come as my girlfriend.”

I wait to hear a pen drop in the grim silence, if she doesn’t just pick up one of the large black ceramic coffee cups and hurl it at my head first.

She’s so frozen I wonder if she heard me at all.

“Yourwhat?” she croaks.

“I know it sounds insane. It’s a big fucking ask.” I hold up my hands before her gaze sets me on fire. “And yeah, it’s breaching professional boundaries and breaking common sense… but a lot of these guys are married. Most of them, in fact.”

“And you’re not.” She folds her arms, her lips twisted sourly. “But so what? Why does it matter?”

“Because these men have egos bigger than the moon. They’re obsessed with optics. If they’re not marching in with their wives, they’re flaunting their weekend arm candy, whatever model mistress or exotic sugar baby they’ve hired to impress.”

“Gross!” She inhales sharply. “And you—what? You want me to play that game? To be your accessory?”

I swallow.

“I want you to be taken seriously.” I hold up my hands. “There are a lot of pigs who come to feed at these conferences,but that’s not everyone. There’s another class of professionals who shows up here. The classic power couple. Men with wives and girlfriends who have their heads in the game, usually sharper than their partners. They’re some of the biggest movers and shakers around, and I’ve always had trouble connecting with the type when I’m a damn loner.”

Her lips twist, mulling over my breathtaking stupidity.

“But if I walk in there with a brilliant woman on my arm, it could help us both connect with the real players. Have you thought about your future after Higher Ends, assuming you stay in real estate? There’s no telling the doors these people could open.”

“What, because they think I’m connected to you?” She huffs a breath. “How many connections do you think I’ll make? Or really, how many connections would make this ruse worth it?”

“I’m not asking you to like it. Real opportunities never come easy in this biz.”

“No, you’re just ambushing me in this beautiful place in a slick roomyoupaid for after you flew me in on a private jet. And I’ll feel like a giant bitch if I don’t agree just by being here.”

Bam. Right between the eyes.

She’s spelled out the asshole I am in two sentences.

Sighing roughly, I shake my head.

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