Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
She’s silent for a moment, biting her lip while still staring at the piece of jewelry. The moment is intense and even I have to admit that it’s quite emotional, given that this is all supposed to be just for show.
“It’s just that …”
“No ifs, ands, or buts, honey. The ring is yours,” I say with finality before getting up to press a kiss to her forehead. “I want you to have it, Sansa. After all, you’re about to become Mrs. Brent Carson.”
With those words, she turns to me, her chocolate brown eyes so huge that they almost swallow her face. Emotion wars in her eyes, but I merely take her into my arms before pressing a tender kiss to her plush pout.
“You can thank me later, Mrs. Carson,” I whisper against her lips.
With that, our lips meet again in a passionate kiss, my heart thundering in my chest. It feels so right to have Sansa here by my side, wearing my ring. Even if this is a transaction, it’s the best deal I’ve ever made, and I pull the curvy woman close again, determined to make her my bride.
7
Sansa
It’s been two days since I agreed to be Brent’s fake bride, and contrary to what I had expected, the world hasn’t gone up in flames yet. The sun still rises in the East and sets in the West, and New Yorkers bustle about the city’s busy streets as always. I’d imagined that this engagement would instantaneously flip my life upside down, but so far, things have been pretty quiet. In fact, I haven’t even seen my fiancé since he gave me my diamond ring because he’s been unfathomably busy getting a business deal done.
Tonight, however, that’s going to change because Brent’s taking me to meet his family to introduce me as his new fiancée.
“Isn’t it going to be weird?” I ask doubtfully. “That you’re introducing a woman out of the blue who’s also your betrothed?”
He chuckles.
“Betrothed? Where did you learn that word?”
“I read a lot of historical romance novels!” I protest hotly. “Don’t judge.”
My gorgeous fiancé merely leaned in for a kiss, his blue eyes wicked. “I’m not judging,” he whispers. “So long as it’s a dirty, filthy type of romance book where the hero ravishes the heroine at every opportunity he gets.”
I had to laugh at that, but now, the night has come. It’s going to be our first public engagement together, and we’ve got to fool his family, who know Brent better than anyone else. I’m supposed to meet my fiancé at the bar of an upscale restaurant called Cippino’s thirty minutes before his family arrives so that we can work out a back story for our relationship, and I’m already nervous. I’ve never been great at lying, but hopefully my acting skills don’t let me down tonight.
I chose a modest blue dress and short silver heels for the restaurant. My curls are carefully pinned so that they cascade over my left shoulder, and I’ve gone light with my make-up, opting for a natural, glowy look. Hopefully, I look like the well-bred wife of a future CEO.
“Sweetheart, you look stunning,” Brent growls when I join him at the bar.
“Thank you, you clean up pretty well yourself,” I say with a shy smile. It’s true. My fiancé’s gorgeous in a perfectly cut dark suit with a stark white shirt showing off his tan, with his black hair swept back in waves. Plus, I’m surprised to see he’s already ordered me a glass of Cabernet. “And I see you’ve done your job,” I exclaim happily. “I love Cabs.”
“Well, you know what they say, happy wife happy life,” he responds with a playful smile. We laugh at this and toast to our fake future together, although a pang runs through my heart.
We decide that if the family should ask how we met, we’ll say we were both out for drinks at the same bar and got to talking with each other. It’s easy because that’s actually the truth. That way, if they ask which bar, which wine, or which day, we won’t mess up the details. Plus, I appreciate that while this version of the truth hides that I’m an escort, it’s still carries some semblance of reality. It makes it easier to lie, and to remember the details also, to be honest. Our fake story is basically one of a whirlwind romance that was fated, and honestly, a part of me wishes it were true. I silently hope that one day, I meet a man who loves me the way they describe in one of my romance novels.
“It’s the perfect tale,” Brent says softly as he looks thoughtfully into my eyes. His midnight gaze is difficult to read right now, as if there’s something lingering in the depths. But I’m kidding myself because this very morning I received a $500,000 deposit in my business bank account. I literally fell over when I saw it, my coffee sloshing onto the countertop. Brent sent that to me as a down payment, and I know he’s good for the remainder.