Page 58 of Bride on the Dotted Line

Sienna Hayes can’t love me.

She can’t love me, because doing so would destroy everything she’s built for herself. I’m Nick Harwood. Even if I were CEO of a hundred companies, even if my father didn’t have the ability (and maybe the will) to erase all the progress we’ve made, I couldn’t deserve a woman like her.

Everyone knows I’m not ahusband guy. The tabloids knew it when they wrote those fake stories about me; Lena and Mason knew it when they threatened me before we got married; my dad knew it when he suggested a fake marriage in the first place.

It wouldn’t be arealmarriage, Son. Don’t be childish.

“Want to go out for dessert?” Sienna asks, setting her fork down. “I’d still like to try gulgula.”

I nod numbly, watching as she pulls out her phone to find gulgula on a map. The movement makes her sweet perfume waft from the other side of the couch. She’s like a goddess in her tank top and sweat shorts; her legs and her eyes and that cute crinkle in her nose andshe’s mine. She’s my wife.

But not for long.

I press my hand over my pocket, where the hard frame of my phone is sticking into my thigh. Six weeks left in the contract, and fuck, I wish I were stronger. I wish I were better. A different man might be able to resist showing her how much he wants her. He might be able to shirk her feelings for her own good.

I’m not that man, though. I’m Nick Harwood.

Certainty rises inside me, pain and relief at the same time. The next time she gives me an opening, I won’t be able to hold back. Sometime in the next six weeks, Sienna Hayes is going to feel what it’s like to be wanted. I’m going to give her everything I can, everything she needs.

I’m going to show her what it means to be mine.

Chapter 19

Sienna

“Feelings don’t just stay locked inside, Sienna,” my mom says two weeks later. “They express themselves whether you want them to or not.”

“Don’t tell me that,” I say, my head in my hands. Covers are piled on top of me in my bed in Nick’s guest room, a dark, cozy hiding spot. “I really don’t need to hear that right now.”

My mom clicks her tongue at me, the sound muffled coming through the phone. It’s been a long time since she’s used that motherly tone. Ever since our conversation in Fiji, she’s been calling me every few days for updates on how I’m doing.

Messed up.That’s how I’m doing.

I should be overjoyed right now. Things are going my way: Nick and I’s honeymoon is all over the news, and people are talking about him being a changed man. Our PR stunt is working. Plus, there’s been radio silence from the PI and whoever hired him—they must have lost interest in me.

Everything is perfect, except for the fact that I’m falling for Nick Harwood.

Yeah.

Admitting the truth to myself is hard, but living with it day-to-day is like throwing myself into a pool of hungry piranhas.

“It’s scary having feelings,” my mom says in her soft, comforting voice. “They shine through. It’s beautiful, too, of course.”

“Beautiful,” I repeat back to her, pressing my face into my pillow. “Right.”

Since my dad lost his business, I’ve been so worried about the present that I haven’t bothered to think about the future. Now, after Nick and I’s wedding, the gala,Fiji, I can’t stop thinking about what’s going to happen next. And what I dream about is crazy and naïve and completely out of reach.

“So, I’m screwed,” I tell her, staring at the threads fraying off my pillowcase. “He’s going to figure it out either way. What do I do?”

“Tell him.”

“I can’t, Mom. The contract.” Sitting up, I rub my hands over my eyes. “He doesn’t want me like that. And he’s been acting so weird lately. It’s like he’s trying to …” The rest of the sentence hangs on my tongue unspoken.Tempt me—but it’s not the right way to describe it.

Since we got back from Fiji, it’s like he’s turned the dial up on his sexual energy. Walking around the penthouse with his tie loosened, showing a hint of his hard chest. Flirting with me over text before we go to bed. Meaningful eye contact when we cross paths at dinnertime.

So much meaningful eye contact.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think he wanted a repeat of what happened after the gala. It doesn’t make any sense, though. We promised to wait until after the contract ends, and it’s not like I’ve told him about my feelings.

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