Page 10 of The Love Clause

"He doesn't eat cereal. He has some protein smoothie delivered fresh each morning by virgins who harvest the ingredients at dawn." I'm only partially joking. Elliot Carrington seems exactly like the type of person who has never experienced the simple joy of Lucky Charms for dinner.

My phone pings with a text, and I dig it out from under a pile of rejected sweaters.

It’s Elliot.

I'll be at your apartment in 20 minutes. We need to discuss wardrobe for the weekend.

"Speak of the devil," I mutter, showing Mandy the text.

"He's coming HERE? NOW?" Mandy leaps off the bed with sudden energy. "This place is a disaster!"

"He's been here before," I remind her, but she's already scooping up random items from the floor.

"Yeah, but that was before you agreed to be his fake fiancée. Before you practiced kissing him and admitted his eyes are, and I quote, 'unfairly blue.'"

"I never said that."

"You absolutely did. Right after your second glass of Pinot Grigio."

I groan and start frantically shoving clothes back into my closet. "Just help me make it look like functional adults live here!"

Twenty-two minutes later (because of course he's exactly on time), there's a precise knock at our door. I've managed to contain the chaos to about 60% of its usual level, which feels like a personal best.

I open the door to find Elliot standing there looking like he stepped out of a men's fashion magazine, even though it's just a casual Thursday afternoon. He's wearing dark jeans and a light blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that are…distractingly nice. He's also holding several shopping bags with fancy logos I recognize from stores I've only ever window-shopped at.

"You're…bringing me presents?" I ask, eyeing the bags skeptically.

"Not presents. Necessities." He steps inside without waiting for an invitation, surveying our apartment with the barely contained horror of someone entering a biohazard zone without protective gear. "I took the liberty of acquiring appropriate attire for the weekend."

"You bought me clothes?" I close the door, torn between offense and relief. "Without asking?"

"I asked my assistant to select a suitable wardrobe based on the retreat's activities and expected dress codes." He sets thebags down on our coffee table/cable spool. "It seemed more efficient than shopping together."

"And how exactly did your assistant know my size?" I cross my arms, suddenly self-conscious.

"She made an educated guess based on the brief interaction you had. She has an eye for these things." He says this like it's perfectly normal to have your assistant size up a woman like she's livestock at auction.

"That's not creepy at all." I peek into one of the bags and pull out a silky blue top with a price tag that makes me gasp. "Holy shit, this costs more than my monthly student loan payment!"

"It's all part of the job," Elliot says dismissively. "The attire needs to be convincing."

"And you don't think people will find it suspicious that the dog-walking artist suddenly has a closet full of designer clothes?"

"We'll explain that I enjoy treating you. It fits our narrative—the successful lawyer indulging his creative fiancée." He says this with such matter-of-fact confidence that I can't tell if it's insulting or just pragmatic.

Mandy chooses this moment to emerge from her room, wearing what appears to be an attempt at looking put together—which for Mandy means matching sweatpants and sweatshirt instead of mismatched ones.

"Oh! Mr. Lawyer Man!" She grins too widely. "Josie was just having a crisis about not owning anything that costs more than a sandwich."

"Mandy," I hiss.

"What? It's true," she says, examining the bags with undisguised curiosity. "Oh wow, is this Valentino?"

"I need to ensure Ms. Palmer looks the part," Elliot explains, his tone suggesting this is a business expense like ordering office supplies.

"It's Josie," I remind him. "If we're supposedly madly in love, you should probably stop calling me 'Ms. Palmer' like I'm being called into the principal's office."

He nods stiffly. "Josie. Of course."

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