Page 22 of Bride on the Dotted Line

Groaning, I hit my forehead with the heel of my hand.Get it straight, Sienna.It wasn’t a real proposal. Why would it be? We barely know each other. Nick hasn’t taken anything away from me.

But he didoffer to give me something.

My family’s debts paid. All the problems of the last year solved. The first clean, unburdened breath I’ve taken in almost a year. All in exchange for playing house with him for three months.

“Fuck,” I say out loud to no one. “Fuck.”

Should I be guilty there’s a part of me that feels flattered? Pleased that he asked me to do this with him? He must think I would make a good impression on the shareholders and the media. It’s almost laughable, considering how risky this deal would be with my dad’s reputation out there for the world—and every tabloid in the city—to find.

He still chose me.

The billionaire heir, the notorious bad boy, theonionthat is Nick Harwood … chose me.

How does Nick even want to play this? Would we keep the deal from our families? Have them believe it’s real and that we’re in love? Mason and Lena would never buy it. Even my mom, as far away and occupied as she is, would see through the pretense.

If we decided to do this—which we won’t, because I won’t say yes—we’d need a foolproof plan, one that accounts for every possible crack in the hull.

If, if, if.

I’m tired of pretending like I’m ever going to fall asleep. I roll off my bed and throw on a robe, my feet taking me into the kitchen, where I stand in front of my sink. I reach for a glass and turn on the faucet, only to have the handle wobble in my hand and freezing water splash all over me.

“Ugh.” I squeeze my soaked sleeves over the sink, then turn around and stare despondently into my basement suite.

My oven is broken—it has been for two-and-a-half months. The stains on the ceiling above my couch seem to be getting bigger, and I’m pretty sure my heating is faulty. Behind me, the faucet drips. There’s a stack of bills on the living room table, a low-balance alert in my notifications.

There have been times during the last year when my heart has felt dead. My family lost everything when my dad’s business failed. The things I used to enjoy are either indulgences, wastes of time, or don’t exist anymore. I’m stuck.

But then there’s Nick.

Masculine, intelligent, charming; Nick.

Trouble; Nick.

He made me forget the broken faucet and the unpaid bills. He unstuck me, even if just for a few moments at a business meeting or on my phone.

A notification chimes from the pocket of my robe. I startle, surprised anyone would text me in the middle of the night. I’m even more surprised to see Nick’s name.

Nick

You don’t have to accept my offer. I’ll sign your contract either way.

Let me know how you feel, and we’ll go from there.

A short message, but it sends a wave of excitement rushing through my body. My stomach does thattugagain, that nameless feeling I get whenever I think about him. I rub a hand over my face.

He’s up late, too. Thinking about tonight. Thinking about me.

Maybe my life will always be full of these contradictions. My dad didn’t deserve to lose his business, but he did. I shouldn’t need to worry about his debts, but I do. PR Managers shouldn’t have a family with a closet full of damning lies said about them, but here I am.

I shouldn’t fake marry Nick Harwood for money.

I shouldn’t.

But I …

I take one more look around my basement suite. Lift my phone. Send a reply.

Sienna

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