Page 45 of Knocked Up by My Fake Fiancé
"That's all very well, my dear, but what will happen to your children—my grandchildren? They'll just be left with nannies, I suppose. Is that your plan?"
"We were left with nannies a bunch of times, and we turned out alright."
"No. I don't want that. I'll introduce you to more respectable and eligible women. Women who know how to prioritize their lives around raising our grandchildren properly."
"I don't want a more eligible woman. I want Jenna." I think about Jenna's eyes when they turn fierce. How they flash so prettily when she's mad, and how they darken when she's deep in the throes of desire. "I'm serious about her, Mom. I wouldn't have introduced you to her if I weren't."
"But Grayson?—"
"But nothing. I'm a forty-five-year-old man. You can't tell me who to date."
"I don't want you making another mistake againnd that girl?—"
"Woman," Dad says. "She's a woman."
"How old is she exactly? She looks awfully young."
Shit. I almost forgot about her age. Truthfully, I don't typically date women that young, and I won't lie, the age gap does make me feel a little uncomfortable.
But she just feels so... mature. She doesn't act her age at all.
"She's old enough to be the CEO of her own company." My father comes to the rescue. "Not bad."
I raise an eyebrow. "You actually like her?"
"Well, I wouldn't go that far," he says. "I don't know her well enough. She has scheming eyes. I think she's hiding something."
I cover my smile by sipping my coffee.
Oh, you have no idea.
CHAPTER 13
Jenna
Jeez, that was tough.
I'm damn near exhausted after that breakfast, not from physical effort but from mental energy. I'm practically shaking, but I tell my driver to stop at the nearest coffee bar for a latte and a slice of chocolate cake that I would normally allow myself—on this occasion I feel I've earned it ten times over. Then I force myself to go to my meeting anyway.
It really had been a brutal hour and a half. Was that all? I check my phone. Yes, we'd got there at nine, and it's still not even eleven. Feels more like a week than just under two hours.
Had that been a breakfast date with any real fiancé's family, I think I would have cancelled the wedding then and there. Seriously. The engagement would have been off, and I would never have spoken to him again, because… who the hell do they think they are?
Seeing his parents at least helps me understand why Grayson's such a monumental asshole. Being raised by those two slimeballs could not have been much fun. Yeah, it all makes sense now as to why he's such a pain in the ass. He grew up with parents who think their shit doesn't stink, and no doubt they convinced him that his doesn't stink either. Now he walksaround doing whatever the fuck he wants, with no consideration for others or accountability for his actions.
To give Grayson his due, his parents are even worse than he is.
Why would anyone put themselves through that and marry into that family? For love? Ha! What is love anyway? Whatever it is, it sure isn't worth it. Nothing and nobody should be worth subjecting yourself to humiliation by a family of mean-spirited snobs who think they're better than anyone else simply because they're loaded and you aren't.
On the other hand… if it's only for six months, that million dollars just might be worth it.
I'm just very thankful I only have to meet them twice a month.
I gulp down the latte, then take deep breaths in the limo—in through the nose, hold, then out through the mouth in a huffing noise, just as my yoga teacher instructed me—gradually calming myself for the day ahead. I'm grateful that the driver—Raul—doesn't give me any weird looks. He must be used to women doing breathing exercises in the back seat. Or more likely, he is just extremely well-paid and knows how to be discreet. There are some advantages to being wealthy, after all, it seems.
I push the intercom button. "Are you married, Raul?" I ask him.
He glances at me through the rearview mirror. "Yes, I am, ma'am. Happily."
