Page 10 of The Temporary Fiancée
I grimace, reaching for the cup of coffee at the edge of the desk. If I imagine hard enough, I might be able to pretend that it’s a gin and tonic.
“Nothing short of drastic measures is going to make you less of a publicity risk to this business,” Lionel says.
“What are you suggesting? What could make the tabloids shut up about me at this point? The end of the world?” I take a sip of the coffee. It’s unpleasantly cold.
“The absence of tabloid fodder isn’t enough. We need something else. Something new for the media to focus on.” Heholds out his hands, like he’s pitching a new business strategy in a meeting with investors. “Afiancée.”
I almost spit out the coffee. When I manage to swallow it, I stare at him. “Awhat?”
“You heard me. It will be the perfect thing to reform your reputation. We give the press a new story to latch onto. A doting fiancée. Lavish wedding plans. None of it has to be real—it just has to be believable.”
“Is this a joke?” I glance around, looking for a hidden camera. “Are you fucking with me?”
“No,” Lionel says, shaking his head. “Listen, Reed—like I said, it doesn’t have to bereal.There’s no need to panic. After an allotted period of time, we can call off the wedding. People will still see you as a family man.”
“This is crazy.”
“Is it, now?”
“Yes,“ I say. “What if I don’t want to go along with it, huh? What then?”
Lionel folds his arms, fixing me with a cool, harsh stare. “Then this company won’t be passed to you. It’ll go to Shane. And you’ll be cut out—permanently.”
My shoulders tense. I hate my father’s demanding nature, his judgmental tone, the way he didn’t even trust me to hold my word. But I have no choice. I can’t lose my position in this company. I was born for this role.
I grit my teeth and say, “Fine. I understand. We’ll go with the damned fiancée story.”
“Good,” Lionel says. “Now, we need to find a candidate—and soon.”
“Wait,” I say quickly. “I’ll do it—but on one condition.”
“And what might that be?”
“I get to choose the woman.” Maybe this will all be more tolerable if I have some say in the matter. I don’t know what mycriteria should be, but I’ll think of something. If I talk it over with the guys, they might have some advice.
Lionel’s jaw tightens. I can tell that he’s unhappy with the idea. He might think that I’ll fuck something up, or maybe he’s just pissed that I’ll have any autonomy at all; who knows.
At long last, he nods reluctantly. “I can work with that.” He sniffs, then adds, “Make sure you choose someone to make the family name proud. And, of course, you’ll need to have Legal draft you a contract. An NDA. Something ironclad. Got it?”
“Got it,” I say wearily. “Now if you don’t mind, I was in the middle of?—”
My father turns to leave, closing the door behind himself before I can finish my sentence.
Rather than jump back into my work, I sit back in my chair, my hands folded on my chest. I stare at the ceiling for a long time, contemplating what I just agreed to.
This is absolute, complete bullshit.
There’s a quiet voice in the back of my mind, a voice that sounds like my father’s:But it just might work.
And I’d do anything, to take the mantle of this company.
Riley and Cole’sengagement party, the first social event I’ve really attended in the past few months, is a private affair in a rented-out restaurant. They’ve hired a caterer, and there’s an open bar, which comes as a huge relief. After the day I’ve had, I need it.
The bartender seems a little surprised when I ask him for a tequila shot and then a whiskey neat, but I don’t feel like explaining myself. I take the shot, then move over to one of the high tables to silently nurse the whiskey.
It’s a great party. There’s a pianist, and the music is sweet and lovely. Some people even dance at a few of the more upbeat tunes, but for the most part, it’s all conversation and drinks and hors d’oeuvres.
They chose a fancy venue for this, one of the nicest restaurants in Manhattan. If this is what the engagement party is like, then I can’t wait to see how big they go for the wedding.
