Page 13 of The Player + The Pact = I Do

My mind is whirring, from possible candidates to the amount of money I would be able to offer them. To the complications of having a woman you just met pretend to be your fiancée.

And then I can’t stop thinking about how this seems to be the most important thing to Leo… and how the most important thing to me is managing The Mayfair… and how one could be swapped for the other.

I could pose as Leo’s fiancée in return for him agreeing to let me manage The Mayfair.

He looks at me, and I realize I’ve been staring at him, not saying anything.

“I’ll get right on it,” I say and turn back to the exit.

What a completely ridiculous idea. If I start pretending I’m in love with Leo Hart, it will only be a matter of time until I’mactuallyin love with him. And I refuse to let that happen.

FIVE

Jules

I kick off my shoes as soon as I get inside the apartment, relishing the cool of the AC. “Why is it so hot out there? It’s October. Almost.”

“Climate change,” Sophia calls from the kitchen.

Sophia is the perfect roommate. She’s tidy, an excellent cook, works at Saks and gets a twenty percent discount she’s more than happy to share, plus she has a long-distance boyfriend who works on yachts, so he’s never around.

“I’m making paella. Want some?” she calls.

I sigh contentedly. “There’s nothing I want more.”

“Apart from a chilled glass of white wine and a job managing The Mayfair?” she suggests.

I step into our combo kitchen-living space. “Oh yeah. And those two tiny things.”

She presses a glass of wine into my hand and sweeps her gaze up and down my body, shaking her head. She doesn’t approve of my work closet.

“Thank you. Maybe we should get married. I think you’re my perfect match.”

“I wouldn’t marry you because you dress like shit.”

I raise my glass and take a sip. “I told you, I want to look older than I am. There aren’t many twenty-nine-year-olds managing five-star hotels. Especially ones that don’t have college degrees. I need to look older than I am. And more… qualified.”

“You’re not just dressed older, you’re dressed like someone who inherited Hillary Clinton’s wardrobe in December 2016.”

“Maybe I did.” I glance down at myself and the trousers that are too short to wear with anything but flats. “How tall is she?”

“Shorter than you. And several sizes bigger. Not that either of those things is bad. But your work suits don’t fit you.”

“Sure they do.” When I got the interview for the position in Leo’s office, I stopped by Goodwill to try to find something to wear. I found a perfect, mid-blue trouser suit. Yes, it was a little on the large side, but I sewed on some belt loops and created a paper-bag waist with my favorite belt I’d saved up and bought from Saks in the spring. Then I’d turned up the sleeves on the jacket and paired it with a high-necked shirt and flats—because the trousers were a little short. I looked cool during the interview, and the outfit still hits today. “I’m giving hipster vibes.”

“You’re giving Granny not-so-chic vibes. Any minute now you’re going to take up crochet.”

I tap my finger against my wineglass. “What a great idea. Think of the throws and blankets I could make for our apartment.”

She grins. “How’s the asshole?”

I slide onto the counter next to the stove where a pan of rice sits. Looks like the paella is coming along nicely. “He’s asshole-ish. In fact, he went up a gear today.”

She laughs. “Really? Buy himself a new sports car?”

I groan at the thought. I’m not quite sure what he drives, but I bet it’s overpriced and over-accessorized. My dad turned up in an old Porsche one time after he’d been gone six weeks. I’d been so excited to see him. And the car. A yellow car seemed like the coolest thing your dad could ever drive. Looking back, my mom’s heart probably sank when she saw it. I didn’t know it at the time, but she had a hard time making rent when my dad wasn’t around to flash whatever cash he had. A Porsche was not on her list of priorities. “Probably. He also wants me to organize a date for him.”

“Oh,” she says, adding some kind of liquid to the pan. I’m not going to ask what it is, because I absolutely never cook and I’m sure it will taste amazing. “So you have to arrange something romantic for his latest conquest.”

---