Page 58 of The Plus One Contract

I Googled him.

Instant regret. A tidal wave of it.

Surprise, surprise, my initial impressions of Nathan Calloway were wildly off the mark. Not that you can form a truly accurate assessment of a man when he's got you gripping the headboard, your vocabulary reduced to a fervent prayer that includes his name.

But still.

I'd pictured him as well-off. A nice portfolio, a couple of country club memberships.

The reality is so much worse.

Zero personal social media. A digital ghost. If he has any profiles, they're buried deeper than my self-esteem right now.

The only links were to his business. And the articles… God.

“Most Eligible Bachelors.”Forbes.Business Insider. A net worth that could make a small country weep.

Self-made. Started from nothing. Built an empire.

And Julian is definitely the fun one. That was glaringly obvious from a couple of pictures. One showed Julian, grinning, with a drink in hand, his arm slung around some woman, while Nathan sat beside him, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Another, from some charity gala, had Julian practically groveling at an elderly socialite while Nathan observed with a look of mild amusement.

They built a kingdom together.

And I, in my infinite wisdom, just conned this man into pretending to be my boyfriend.

Lord, help me.

Twenty-Four

Isigh, staring at my reflection in the dressing room mirror, completely overwhelmed.

Why is shopping so stressful?

Against my better judgement, I take out my phone and call Nathan, praying I’m not interrupting some important business deal or whatever it is CEOs do in the middle of the day.

He answers on the third ring. “Miss me already?”

I roll my eyes, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. “I’m at the store.”

“Good to know.”

I huff. “Shopping for a dress. For this fundraiser. I have no idea what the dress code is or what to buy. I’m stressed, Nathan.”

There’s a pause before he says, “You’re at a store?”

“Yes.”

“Looking for a dress?”

I clench my jaw. “That is what I just said, yes.”

“You’re stressed out about it?”

“Are you going to repeat everything I say?”

“It’s black tie.”

I groan, dragging a hand down my face. “Ugh. I have a dress that would be perfect for this, but it’s in New York. I bought it a couple of months ago when it was on sale, just because, and I’ve never even worn it.”

---