Page 9 of Making It While Faking It
“I’m sorry to hear that, Treasure Chest,” Xan finally says.
“Four weeks,” Achilles cuts in behind him.
I allow myself to look at my in-name-only future husband. There’s not a sign of sympathy on his face. Achilles is all business.
“That’s one month,” Xan says, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
Achilles tilts his head in my direction without looking at me. “That will give her the appropriate number of days to grieve.”
“I’m not grieving over Simon,” I say past my tight throat.
We’re staring into each other’s eyes, and my breaths feel craggy until I let my gaze fall to my lap.Why does he make me feel this way?
“All right then, four weeks.” Xan rubs his palms together. “Let’s get the show on the road.”
“Wait,” I say, holding my hand up. I’ve been wanting to know something since I accepted to go through with this charade. I face Achilles. “What do you get out of this?”
“That’s none of your concern,” Achilles retorts in what seems to be his normal hissing voice.
Wow. He really doesn’t like me. Actually, his tone stings a little. But I dare not show it.
“Why not?” I ask, refusing to back down. “I’ll be your wife. So what’s yours will be mine and vice versa.” I smirk because I’m screwing with him. He’s such an asshole, why not have some fun with it?
He snorts bitterly and then readjusts in his seat. “Our benefit has to do with the Lord family trust.”
The fact that he answered my question renders me speechless for moment. I turn my surprised expression away from Achilles Lords’s spectacular face to look at Xan. “All right, then,” I say, sounding winded. With one quick cough, I clear my throat. “We should continue. I have a lot to do today too.”
“Like what?” Achilles blurts.
I’m not the only one who’s looking at Achilles with surprise. Nobody expected him to ask me that. It appears as if he’s trying to mask his own shock as well. His question was definitely a slip of the tongue.
“Like, a lot,” I say, folding my arms on my chest defiantly.
“Just be careful,” Achilles warns.
“Wow,” I let out with a harsh laugh. “You really don’t like me, do you?”
Again, he frowns at me as though I’m the sole reason for his crappy life.What in the hell does that look mean?“I don’t know you, Miss Grove. Therefore, I cannot dislike you.”
My lips won’t move. But my brain shouts,You asshole.He doesn’t know me?I want to mention how he ranted and raved like a lunatic after catching me and Orion together years ago. We were just teenagers. He could have been less of an asshole about it. “And by the way, never have I ever been or will I ever be a debutante,” I say, remembering he called me that way back when.
We suddenly become engaged in an epic staring battle. I refuse to be the first to look away.
Xan claps his hands loudly enough that we mutually break eye contact. “Let’s focus,” my uncle says. But I know Xan very well. He’s studying us both, wondering what in the hell just happened. And it’s evident that he doesn’t like our exchange at all, not in the least.
Finally,it’s time. I’m so close to the money, I can taste it. A lawyer brings in the contracts. His name is Clive. He’s young and handsome and he never fails to look at me with flirtatious eyes. Halfway through the ritual of handing the pen to Achilles so that he can sign and date and then hand it back to me, I remember that Clive is the lawyer who went on a date with Paisley. At least I now understand why he’s so flirtatious. Paisley and I resemble each other. He probably sees me as a second shot at her, but that will never happen. Despite the obvious—I’m signing a contract to marry another man—Paisley and I never date each other’s exes, and that includes guys who were once interested in one of us.
The stack of documents to sign seems to go on forever as Clive explains the significance of each. I think the exercise feels so arduous because Achilles is too close. His body heat warming my backside is having a dizzying effect on me. There’s no way in the world Achilles Lord should be making me feel this way.
Then, our fingers brush during a transfer of the pen. Giddy energy rises up my arm, captures my heart, and takes a nosedive down to my core. However, I play it off as if I feel nothing. But Achilles must’ve felt it too, because his fixed grimace intensifies as he asks Xander for his own “writing instrument.”
What the fuck?
Who calls a pen a “writing instrument,” anyway? Nope. I’m done with jerks, and he’s a jerk. I’d rather screw the happy-go-lucky and super-nice Ronald McDonald than Achilles Lord. Keeping that in mind, I put a mental wall between him and me, knowing that although we’ll be married in four weeks, I will not have to see or talk to him for the duration of our nuptials. Then I’ll divorce him, and we’ll never have to think about each other ever again.What a prick!
Breaking the News
ACHILLES LORD
