Page 43 of If the Ring Fits

I smirk. “Just wait until you see the inside.” A nervous tension settles on my shoulders as I come around to help Rowena out. This weekend has to go perfectly.

The front door swings open and Dominic strides out dressed in swimming trunks and a light-blue linen shirt, silver hair shining in the afternoon sun. His sharp gaze lands on Rowena as she steps out of the car. I watch his expression closely, trying to gauge his reaction.

Surprise flickers briefly in his eyes, quickly masked. Rowena is not strictly my type—she’s a fresh-faced natural beauty, not the plastic Barbie doll or fellow Wall Street shark he probably expected. Her clothes are pretty but not expensive. Today was probably the first time she ever drove in a Ferrari.

Dominic takes this all in, and his mouth curves into awarm smile. “Adrian, welcome! And this must be the lovely Rowena.” My boss steps forward to shake her hand. “A pleasure to finally meet you, my dear.”

“Likewise, Mr. Fulton. Adrian has told me so much about you.” Rowena unleashes a dazzling smile. I loop my arm around her waist, pulling her close.

Dominic’s gaze drops to the diamond glinting on her finger. His eyebrows lift almost imperceptibly. Good, he’s noticed I’m committed to this whole family thing.

“Please, call me Dominic,” he insists. “And make yourself at home. How was the drive? Not too taxing, I hope, especially in your condition?”

“Oh no, it was very pleasant,” Rowena assures him. “Adrian found me this amazing doctor in the city who put me on a new medication. It’s made the morning sickness a million times better.”

She leans into me affectionately as she speaks. My chest expands with pride and warmth. Barely a minute in, and she’s already making me look great, propping me up as the doting fiancé. So far, she’s nailing this fake relationship act.

Dominic nods, looking impressed. “Excellent, I’m so glad to hear that. Well, please come in, both of you!” He waves over a sharply dressed valet who hurries to collect our bags from the Ferrari’s trunk.

As Rowena and I follow Dominic into the house, I can’t help thinking that this crazy scheme could work.

In the foyer, Dominic gestures expansively at the lavish interior. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he chuckles. Humble, right. The place practically screams billionaire, from the gleaming hardwood floors to the original artwork gracing the walls.

I keep Rowena close, my hand resting lightly at the base ofher spine. The casual intimacy feels surprisingly natural, and I catch her glancing up at me with a small, private smile. An unfamiliar warmth stirs within me.

Through barely parted lips, she mouths. “Please tell me we’re actually here to steal a few paintings.”

I suppress a laugh as Dominic gestures at the space.

“The house has quite a history,” he remarks as we walk. “It was originally built in the 1920s for a silent film star. Rumor has it she used to host scandalously wild parties here.” He winks conspiratorially.

Rowena’s eyes widen. “Really? That’s fascinating!” She’s playing her part beautifully, showing just the right amount of interest but not being too obsequious.

We emerge onto a sprawling patio overlooking the beach. Preston is already lounging by the pool with his picture-perfect family. His wife, a blonde with a megawatt smile, waves enthusiastically.

“Adrian.” Preston gives me a polite nod. Civil but not warm. We’re each other’s competition and we both never forget it. He’d cut me down at the knees if he could, and I’d do the same.

More introductions are made as Rowena charms the Harrises effortlessly.

“Why don’t you two go get changed and join us?” Dominic suggests. “Let me show you to your room.”

We follow him back inside and up a sweeping staircase. He opens a door, revealing a spacious bedroom with a stunning ocean view. And a single, gigantic bed.

“I’ll leave you to settle in,” Dominic says, oblivious to the sudden tension in the air. “See you by the pool!” The door closes behind him with a muted click.

Rowena and I stare at the lone bed, then at each other. Her cheeks flush pink. “Um, I guess we should have expected this.”

“It’s fine,” I assure her, though my pulse is inexplicably racing. “I can sleep on the floor.”

Her hazel eyes widen with surprise before darting to the unforgiving hardwood. She shakes her head vehemently. “No, no way. I can’t let you do that, Adrian. You’ll wake up with knots the size of golf balls.”

“I’ve slept on worse.” In my early days as a trader, I once spent the night on the floor of my cubicle with a Bloomberg terminal as my pillow. This would be a definite upgrade.

Rowena crosses her arms, fixing me with a determined stare. “Absolutely not. I’d feel terrible knowing you were down there while I’m in this big comfy bed by myself.” She plops down on the edge of the mattress as if to emphasize her point.

I arch an eyebrow. “What are you suggesting?”

“Well…” She tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “We’re both mature adults, right? I’m sure we can share the bed without it being weird.”

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