Page 26 of My Big, Fat, Fake Billionaire Wedding

He nods, but slides the card across the table anyway. Our fingers brush as I take it, and that same electric attraction I felt that night zings between us. I pull my hand back quickly.

Can I really do this? Maintain emotional distance when there’s this... whatever this is between us? When he looks so good all the time? When I can’t get that hard body, and the amazing sex, out of my mind?

I close my eyes a moment, then look at him and say, as firmly as I can manage. “I’ll give you my answer tomorrow.”

“Also, I’ll need your number,” he says, holding out his phone.

We exchange numbers, then he stands, towering over the small café table. “Tomorrow, then.”

I watch him leave with his security detail.

Six months of my life in exchange for financial freedom. A fake marriage to a man who’s already rejected me once.

What could possibly go wrong?

Oh god, this is a very, very bad idea.

8

Ava

I’m staring at my bedroom ceiling like it’s a blank canvas that might suddenly reveal the answer to life’s greatest question: Should I marry a billionaire I barely know for money?

I check the clock beside my bed.3:17 AM

Just another Tuesday night for Ava Redwood. Next week: should I sell my left toe for art supplies?

I roll over and fluff my pillow, which does absolutely nothing to make it more comfortable. The apartment is quiet except for the occasional car horn from the street below and the persistent hum of my ancient refrigerator. My sheets smell like turpentine despite three washes, a permanent occupational hazard. Billionaires are another occupational hazard in this line of work, apparently.

Why me? Why?

“This is insane,” I mutter to my empty room. “Completely insane.”

I grab my phone and pull up Lucy’s contact. She’ll either have brilliant advice or tell me I’ve lostmy mind. Both seem equally helpful right now. I hit call before I can talk myself out of it.

“Someone better be dead,” Lucy’s sleep-slurred voice comes through after four rings.

“It’s me. Sorry about the time.”

“Ava? What’s wrong?” Her voice sharpens with concern.

I twist a loose thread on my comforter. “Hypothetically, if someone offered you a life-changing amount of money to do something crazy but technically legal, would you do it?”

“That depends. Are we talking ‘flash a stranger’ crazy or ‘help hide a body’ crazy?”

“Somewhere in between?” I offer, chewing my bottom lip.

“Is this about that gallery owner who kept staring at your butt during the showcase?”

“No! God, no. Nothing like that.” I feel my face heating up despite being alone in the dark. “Just a... business proposition.”

“At three in the morning?” Her suspicion is palpable through the phone.

“I can’t sleep.”

“A business proposition...” Lucy’s voice trails off. “Oh my god. It’s Gideon King, isn’t it? He wants you to work with him? Do it!”

My stomach drops. I forget sometimes how perceptive Lucy can be, especially about things I’d rather keep private.

---