It’s the reason nothing can happen between us.
He clicks his tongue. “Never say never, Violet.”
“Never,” I respond immediately, drawing out the word to get the point across.
Beck crosses one leather shoe over the other, his feet now crossed at the ankles. “Now you’re making this a game. It’s making me far more interested in kissing you.”
I snap my fingers, cutting whatever the hell is happening between us right now short. “Back to the agreement, Beck.”
He runs a finger down the wood top of the conference table. Bringing the finger to his face, his lip upturns at the small amount of dust that coats his fingertip. “Is there anything else holding you back from saying yes?”
“Just about everything,” I retort.
Beck sighs, clueing me in that he’s annoyed with my reluctance. Or is it anger? Maybe it’s a bit of both. He raises his wrist, the movement pulling the sleeve of his suit back to show off his watch. He checks the time on it, his eyes widening slightly in alarm. “Look, Margo, I’ve missed one meeting and I’m about to miss another in the time we’ve been in here. What’s it going to take for you to say yes?”
Rubbing my lips together, I think about how I want to answer his question. If I’m being honest with myself, I’m far more eager to say yes than I thought I’d be. It may be because I’m entirely curious to see what it’d be like to be Beck’s fiancée, even fake. Deep down, maybe I’m bitter enough about what Carter did to me to want to say yes just to make him jealous. Although, he’d have to give a shit about me to be jealous, and I don’t know even if me showing up to a family function as Beck’s fiancée would get any kind of emotion out of him.
The main things holding me back are leaving my friends and thinking of the aftermath of what happens when Beck and I end the fake engagement. To agree to his proposition, I’d have to trust him when he says we can handle it however I see fit.
“I’m really not a man that likes to wait.”
My mind is muddled with all of the reasons I should be saying no to him. First and foremost, I’m still hurt by what his brother did. Moving all the way across the country with somebody else, even if fake, probably wouldn’t be my best idea.
But I love New York.
My heart belongs there. I came out to California because it’s where Emma and I got job offers. I’ve told myself I didn’t move here because it’s also where Carter took a job, but if I’m honest with myself, I wanted a job here because of him. Winnie followed along because it’s Winnie. She can go anywhere—live anywhere—with all the money her family has.
I’ve always wondered what would’ve happened if I’d stayed in New York. I didn’t regret moving out to California, but I’m not meant for the West Coast. Now I have my chance to move back there, but not only move back, to have the chance to show my art to Camden Hunter. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. I just have to pretend to be Beck’s fiancée for a year to do it.
“If I agree, we’re doing it on my terms, Beck. I’m sure new rules will come along, and I need to know you’ll agree to them even if our charade has already begun.”
He thinks my words through for a minute. I can tell it’s killing him, to agree to relinquish some of the control he so desperately needs. He tucks his hands into his pockets while his gaze focuses on me. “Agreed.”
“So then it’s settled,” I say, wondering if I’ll come to regret this decision.
Rubbing his hands together, he stands to his full height. It only takes him two steps to close the distance between us. Looking down at me, his face is masked to all business once again. He reaches into the hidden pocket of his suit, pulling out a business card. The card is stuck between his pointer and middle fingers as he holds it out between us.
I look at it, confused. If he’s about to be my fake fiancé, why am I getting a business card? It seems a little formal in my opinion.
“We’ll be in touch,” he demands, pushing the card up against my chest. He leaves me no choice but to take it.
And without any other parting words, no thank you or even a goodbye, Beck leaves me all alone in the conference room.
All I can manage to think is what did I just agree to?
It’s been two days since I met with Margo, and two days of staring at my phone waiting for her call.
She’s supposed to start this coming Monday, and it’s already Friday morning. I’d figured she’d at least want to know more details on what the next few days will look like.
I’ve come to the conclusion she must’ve misplaced my card. I purposefully make it difficult for anyone to find a way to contact me—not wanting my phone to be overloaded with calls or messages. The poor girl must be struggling to get ahold of me.
A long sigh escapes my lips as I finish up another virtual meeting. The last couple days have been filled with call after call in an effort to integrate the company Margo worked at into my own. I didn’t expect quite so much extra work when I bought it, but that’s mainly because we found ways it can actually be useful. There are specific proprietary algorithms 8-bit owns that Sintech should be able to use to improve some of our social platform data encryption. It’ll take some overhaul of 8-bit to make it best serve us, starting with getting rid of that god-awful logo, but the acquisition hasn’t been a complete waste.
Stretching in my chair, I take in the view from the penthouse suite of the hotel I’m staying at until Sunday morning. My moment of peace is quickly broken when the vibration of my phone rattles against the desk. Eagerly, I grab for it, expecting to see an unknown number on the screen—Margo’s. Instead, I see my assistant’s name glaring at me. Frowning, I answer it. “Yes?” I clip, not bothering with a greeting.
“Good morning,” Polly says, her tone cheery like usual. The woman is old enough to be my mother, in fact she’s older than my own mom, yet it doesn’t seem as if the world has hardened her over the years. I on the other hand, can feel my sanity slip away with each useless meeting. I don’t know how Polly has put up with me for years, but deep down, I’m grateful for it. She’s a wonderful assistant, always doing her job no matter what I ask. I’m just pissy this morning because Margo hasn’t contacted me yet.
“Hi,” I answer, trying to soften the gruffness in my tone slightly.
For the next fifteen minutes, Polly and I iron details we’d been needing to work through. The entire time, my mind travels elsewhere. I can’t stop thinking about Margo, even when discussing important topics at hand. Eventually, we get to a good stopping point. Polly is efficient. Even from New York, she’s able to keep a reign on things so that even when I’m out of the office, I can count on things running smoothly.
Before she hangs up, I get an idea. Standing up, I take the phone off speaker and hold it to my ear. My shoes click against the marble floor of the penthouse suite as I rush to my room. “Polly?”
“Yes, Mr. Sinclair?”
I grab the jacket off its hanger, the suit freshly steamed thanks to the hotel staff. I press the phone between my cheek and my shoulder as I slip my arms into the sleeves. “Clear my schedule for the rest of the day. Something’s come up.”