Page 23 of Come Here and Kiss Me

“You’re asking me to lie to my best friend?”

“I’m asking you to lie toeveryone.”I stress the word.

She swallows hard and nods for my answer to her initial question.

“Don’t you have a trust fund?”

“Not until I’m twenty-five, and it’s null and void if I get married before that.”

I state, “That’s three years from now.”

She smirks, realizing I know more about her than she gives me credit for.

“We aren’t going to keep this up for three years,” she states although her eyes reflect that she desperately needs that trust and security until she’s financially secure. How the hell can her own father do this to her?

“I would think not, but we can arrange something so you don’t have to worry.”

She nods although she seems uncertain.

“So do we have a deal?”

Her cautious gaze shifts toward the ceiling as if she’s waiting for an answer from God.

“What do I get out of this?” she finally asks.

“What do you want?”

“If I’m getting cut off, then I want a settlement when we split.”

“How much?”

“A million.”

It doesn’t surprise me that she demands this much. She probably spends that in a month. She has no sense of value for anything. I have millions in stocks alone with my own trust fund. My bar is the best in town, and it makes tons of revenue. And even it is pennies compared to what the brokerage account makes.

For a second, I contemplate the alternative before I rasp, “Done.”

She smiles. “I want a contract in writing.”

“I’ll have one for you in the morning.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Now what?”

“Now you get on your knees and thank me.”

She sasses, “Or what?”

“You can…” Looking her up and down with a predatory regard, I add, “Come here and kiss me.”

CHAPTER9

Brooklyn

His home is a bachelor pad if I’ve ever seen one. No one will believe I live here. I continue to glance around while we’re eating breakfast the following morning. After we came to an agreement, I took a bath in his massive tub, thinking he’d join me in bed, but he didn’t.

I didn’t see him for the rest of the night, and then this morning, he’s standing in the kitchen bright-eyed and bushy-tailed with my coffee in his hand. Someone delivered us breakfast, and now we’re sitting on opposite ends of his long rectangular dining table like we’re in a business meeting. In a way, I guess we are.

I have to keep reminding myself that this isn’t real. We’re not in love and engaged. It’s all a facade. However, when he’s looking at me with that devilish stare, and his tantalizing green eyes stare into my soul, it’s hard to distinguish between fact and fiction.

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