Page 82 of Morally Black Betrothal
“Of course you won’t,” I repeated. “And neither will I.”
Even then I probably knew I was lying.
Deep down, I knew.
We stared at each other for several more long moments while my heart gave a few more hard thumps. Simone looked like she wanted to say something. Or take back something.
And maybe I wanted to do that too.
Before I could do either, we were interrupted by a knock on the door. Ruth’s head popped in. She exchanged a glance with Simone, then turned back to me with an unreadable expression as she held up a thick manila envelope.
“Here you go, Mr. Black. Ms. Bishop.”
Simone reddened. “Hello, Ruth.”
I took the envelope, which was clearly labeled with Simone’s name. “Thanks, Ruth.”
My assistant’s brows lifted—no doubt at my uncharacteristic display of gratitude—before she ducked out.
I handed the envelope to Simone. “For you.”
Gingerly, she peeked inside. “What’s this?”
“Everything you’ll need moving forward. The access code and address to my—our—apartment. A security key for the office so you don’t have to check in every time you come here. Paperwork for bank accounts in your name and a black American Express card for any incidentals you might incur during your term of…service. Clothes, cosmetics, whatever else you think is necessary.”
Simone looked through the contents. “A stylist was supposed to come by my apartment today. I feel bad now. I blew her and Ruth off.”
“Ruth has seen worse, and she can reschedule. But you’ll need it. People will expect my partner to have a certain…look.”
Looking pale, she set the envelope on her lap like a bomb that might go off if she moved too quickly and stared at it for a moment. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. It’s part of the deal.” Unable to stop myself, I set my palm over her knuckles and squeezed.
She squeezed back. “You seem to have a lot of faith in my ability to pull this off, but honestly, I’m kind of worried. I already screwed up once today, and I can’t help feeling like it might happen again. There were a lot of things I feel like I should know about you and your life that I just don’t.”
An idea struck. And to be honest, I felt like an idiot for not thinking of it before now. “Would it make you feel better if we did something more social? Like a date?”
Her head lifted. “A date? Like, a real one?”
“Define real.” Then I shrugged. Maybe I didn’t want an answer to that. “We’re engaged. We should be seen socializingoutside of large events. That’s what people who are in love do, right?”
“I…I would think so.”
I only just stopped myself from asking why she didn’tknow.
Simone Bishop had to have been in love before, right?
I was honestly shocked she wasn’t already taken.
Not that it would have stopped me from buying her service anyway.
“Besides, you’re right,” I went on. “We should get to know each other better if we’re going to pull this off.”
“Right.” She nodded.
“Go home. Pack up the rest of your things and take the rest of the day to…adjust. I’ll pick you up there at seven, and after our date, I’ll take you home. Ruth will reschedule the photo ops for a different time.”
“Seven,” she repeated. “Where will we go?”
