by Ellie Hall
"You sound like Sydney."
"Then I'm flattered." Jared's voice was dry.
Emma cleared her throat, wondering what she'd walked into.
Jared turned to her and smiled. "What's your number, Good Girl?"
"My number? Good girl?" she asked.
"Yeah, how much?"
Emma held her hands up between them, appalled. "What are you asking me?"
Jared grunted with annoyance. "Name your amount to go along with this scheme to pose as Will's love interest for the next month. To make it worth your time. You probably have college debt, uh, a car loan…"
She blinked a few times, trying to understand. They wanted her to be Will's assistant and pose as his love interest and they'd pay her.
It was tempting. So tempting. If she could get out from the debt Everett put her in, she could truly start over. If it meant she could move on without the shadow of the past haunting her with a monthly bill, she'd do it. She squared her shoulders. "Twenty-nine thousand five hundred sixty."
"That's very exact," Will said wryly.
"Is there a contract? Something for me to sign?" she asked.
"I'll have it to you by the end of the day." Jared checked his watch.
Will held his hands up. "So we're doing this? For real?" He shook his head.
"Do you have a better idea, lover boy?" Jared clapped his client's cheek. "Just doing my job so you can do yours." He turned on his heel and left.
Silence stretched between Will and Emma until the elevator in the hall dinged, signaling Jared's departure.
Will slouched into the chair. "I could really use that muffin."
"Jared said no muffins, no…"
"Apparently, I always listen to Jared."
"Do you?" Emma asked, surprised at the challenge in her voice.
Will's phone beeped and he checked the incoming message. He drew back the arm that held the phone, closed one eye, and pretended to throw it like a fastball at the billboard outside the window. Then he took a deep breath. "Change of plans. We have to go to London." He spent the next few minutes texting on his phone. "Jared said it's fine—the plan should stand an even better chance back home."
He was asking her to go to London. "Did you say we?" Maybe she could bow out, get a job at Starbucks and move on with her life. Then again, the twenty-nine thousand dollars plus the salary the assistant job offered was enough to wash her slate clean. She held her breath as though the perfect answer would come when she exhaled.
His eyes met hers. They were cool, blue, devastating. She blinked a few times, pulling herself from their allure. Only a kiss?
"Do you really want to do this, Emmaline?"
She huffed. No one except her grandmother ever called her that, well, and her sister when she got mad. "I don't know, William. I haven't had much time to think it through. It's only 10:30 am and all I've had to eat are cookies and ice cream."
"Do you make decisions later in the day after you've eaten cake and pie?"
"Watch it or I won't share."
"Ooh. She bites." A dimple formed in his cheek when he smiled.
"Only when I'm hungry."
Will chuckled. His phone beeped again and then he signed into the tablet on the desk before passing it to Emma. "Jared sent over the contract."
"He moves fast."
"Too fast."
Emma skimmed the digital document. Nothing jumped out at her as being unusual, except for the entire situation. There was a non-disclosure section, meaning she couldn't tell anyone about the arrangement or about Will and his associates' private lives and business dealings. The agreement also included the cost of her travel, lodging, and several other expenses. Emma closed her eyes, visualizing her debt dropping from five digits to zero. She drew a deep breath and signed with her finger.
"You really need this job, huh?" Will asked as he pressed the lobby button in the elevator.
"I really do. Even though I don't have a fancy agent to draw up documents, you and I need to have a verbal agreement. Don't ask me questions."
"What if I need a muffin?"
She cocked her hip. "I thought muffins were off limits. I mean don't ask anything personal."
"Why?"
She leveled him with a glare.
As they exited the gym, Melody sat slack-jawed under the photo print of Will's abs.
Outside, Emma folded her scarf around her neck as Will pulled open the door of a waiting black SUV.
He told the driver. "Times Square, please."
"At least you say please," Emma mumbled. And he had a really nice voice. A sigh escaped.
"Are you suggesting I'm inherently rude? I opened the door for you."
"No. I—" But she was and knew it. Everett wasn't a billionaire, but he was wealthy and impolite to the people he referred to as the help. Often, including her even though they'd been together when his company was just a startup. She'd logged long hours to get it off the ground because she knew internet coding better than he did and fixed all his bugs. She was determined to be a partner. But she didn’t have a buy-in other than her effort, sleepless nights, and diligence. What did that earn her? The title assistant. And there she was again, a rich and arrogant guy's assistant.
As they turned the corner, she let out a jagged breath. "Why are we going to Times Square? Didn't get enough of yourself on the billboard?"
One of his images flashed on the screen high on a building.
"I didn't realize we licensed my image to—" His eyes floated to the street level as they passed a souvenir shop. "Here will do," he said to the driver. "I won't be long." Will stepped onto the slushy sidewalk. He turned to Emma, still in the SUV. "Are you coming? Or am I not allowed to ask you that question?"
Chapter 4
Will
The agreement to stage a fake relationship was unconventional and possibly wrong. Fake? Easy? Will was all about that but he sensed the arrangement might become tedious.
Emma was hot and cold, sweet and irritable, and at times seemed vulnerable and at others invincible.
"Am I coming?" she repeated. "Yes, you can ask me that. I meant not to ask personal questions. But my answer depends on where we're going."
Will pointed to a souvenir shop with flashing lights in the window.
"Do you need an Empire State Building keychain? An I Love New York magnet? Perhaps a mug with the Statue of Liberty?"
"Not a bad idea, considering I suddenly don't feel very free."
"Ouch. Only a few minutes in and we're already bickering like an old married couple." Despite having made the comment, Emma flinched.
"The old married couple I knew didn't argue." Memories flashed through Will's mind as the city, already amped up on that unique Manhattan energy, rushed by him.
"Am I your assistant right now or your fake girlfriend?"
Will sighed. "Both? This was Jared's idea. I'm sure someone will take a photo of us souvenir shopping. He'd probably approve."
Emma huffed and hesitated before exiting the SUV and followed him into the nearest souvenir store.
A guy eyed her, even bundled up in her hat and scarf. She was cute, he'd give her that, but he wasn't sure about her personality. It was as if she didn't want him to like her and she didn't want to like him. He scratched his head and followed her inside.
The salesman tried to sell her everything on the shelves. "My dear, we have everything for you to bring back home. How long is your visit?"
"I live here. I'm just looking," she said in a different tone than the one she used when speaking to him.
"Then perhaps I could interest you in—"
"Actually, I'm shopping," Will said, stepping in.
The man's eyes landed on him and lingered there a moment too long.
Even though he hadn't shaved, he knew in that instant the man recognized him—not hard with his image splashed all over the city. It was like the split second before a channel changed on TV. It was in the blink of an eye. "My son is a big fan. Wait one minute. He'll be
right back. Went to get bagels. He'll want to take a picture with you."
"We're in a rush. I'll just take this. Will grabbed a snow globe with the New York City skyline, threw a twenty-dollar bill on the counter—even though the price tag said ten dollars—and rushed out of the store. He promised his niece a gift from every city he visited, especially when he was gone for long stretches of time. Will wasn't ready to go home. He didn’t want to deal with the pending tragedy he'd avoided facing and whatever other dumpster fires waited for him in London. He certainly didn’t want to return to the flat with all the soured memories it held between its walls.
Will waited in the SUV as Emma emerged from the store, looking bewildered. A man who was a younger version of the shopkeeper entered as she exited. He gave her a long, lust-filled look. She strode passed as though she didn't notice the guy ogled her. Either that or, like him, she'd learned to ignore it.
Without a word, she buckled her seatbelt. She wasn't the usual model type he dated. She certainly lacked the height and from what he'd gathered, she didn't swear off carbs, something he appreciated even if he couldn't enjoy them himself. He put the emphasis on dated in his mind because the last thing he wanted was a relationship. That's what made his current lifestyle so appealing. He could kiss and walk away. No strings, emotions, lives, or anything with a heartbeat attached. Talk about a dumpster fire. The very notion of being in a relationship made his skin burn.
With Emma, it would all be fake. No real emotions. No real relationship. No real flirting or anything beyond that.
He could pull this off and pull his reputation from sliding into the gutter. Jared didn't know the photos were usually a result of him being in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people or the paparazzi altering the images. But there was little he could do to prove it false. He'd tried and as soon as one picture was removed, another popped up.
Emma's voice floated to him through the murk of his thoughts. "Do you mind if I stop and grab my things. I won't be long; my clothes are still packed. I hope my sister will be there. Hopefully, she'll understand."
That was the last he heard as he rested his head against the back of the seat. He felt tired, so tired. Maybe it was the weather, his worries, or whatever. His eyes closed and he dreamed. He'd loved Veronica and she'd loved him, at least she'd claimed. He'd thought they were a team, together forever. Then he walked in on her with someone. Only it wasn't a dream but had happened in real life. Will had caught Veronica with some guy. He never found out whom. Didn't want to know, afraid of what he might do to him. He dreamt about it frequently. Not knowing the guy's identity haunted him. Sometimes it was his trainer, other times his cousin, strangers he'd seen earlier that day. The guy was different each time, but the scene was always the same: his ex-girlfriend cheating on him.
Someone pushed his head off their shoulder. Disoriented, he sat up.
"Will, we're here. I think. I don't know. Maybe this is like in the movies and you're going to dump me off in the middle of nowhere. Stranger things have happened today." Her voice was only slightly familiar but sweet.
He wiped his mouth, fearing he'd drooled as the snowy scene took shape before him. His new assistant, the one he needed to date to recover his career as a wholesome role model, came into focus. She was cute. Her nose was like a button. Her lips like cherries. He remembered it was Christmas. He sent a quick text ahead of their departure. "Sorry about—" He gestured to her shoulder. "It looks like we're here."
The driver opened the door and escorted them to the sleek jet waiting on the runway. As they walked up the ramp, Emma said, "Classy. I missed my calling as a gym owner."
"I made smart investments early on with my modeling money. My mentor saw to it I didn't spend all of it foolishly. Then I had the opportunity to start a health and fitness line of supplements, protein shakes. I got involved in a lucrative business model. The brand exploded. Then the gym franchises. It happened fast."
The expression on her face was familiar, like the last several hours of her life had accelerated. He understood the feeling. That had been the last decade of his. He'd longed for it to slow down. That was his intention with Veronica, but as quickly as it had started, everything fell apart, leaving him in pieces.
Will settled into his usual seat on the plane.
Emma turned around a few times, her face unreadable.
"Sit wherever you'd like." He reclined in the large cushioned chair, ready to sleep through the flight and not think about the bittersweet reality of their destination. He'd made it a point to stay away from London as long as possible because he couldn't bear the reminders of love and loss. But there was always the tug, drawing him back. One he'd learned to ignore as best he could, along with the fans going wild, the people staring, and the questions in his heart.
He felt Emma watching him and blinked his eyes open.
She sat opposite him as the plane taxied on the runway. The look she gave him was as if she'd understood his thoughts, the conflict raging inside, and how he perched on the edge of a kind of flight of his own, or maybe she just had a perma-scowl.
"Shouldn't you adjust your seat?" Her voice was firm but concern pinched the space around her eyes.
Will looked around as though his surroundings would provide the obvious answer.
"On every airplane I've ever been on, the flight attendants insist on having seats in the full and upright position during takeoff and landing."
Will smirked. "How many times have you flown?"
She pursed her lips but her fingers trembled slightly. "Three times."
"On a private aircraft?" Will elaborated. When she didn't answer he said, "It's fine. You can recline."
"I don't want to." She seemed flustered. Maybe she was having second thoughts about their arrangement.
"Then why'd you ask?"
"It seems like you play by your own rules."
Perhaps she needed a dose of the famous Will Wheaton charm. It wasn't only his good looks that earned him the private jet, sizeable bank account, and the other accouterments of a billionaire. "Rules? None for me. I do have my own playbook. Would you like to know what's in it?" Will leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked down at his hands and lifted his eyes slowly to meet hers.
She took off her jacket, revealing her trim physique despite her supposed propensity for cookies and ice cream. She smoothed her hair, sat back, buckled in, and placed her hands in her lap.
His eyes didn't waver.
Her cheeks grew rosy as though she was self-conscious.
He counted the three guideposts of his public persona. "Have a good time. Make sure it's fun. Don't regret it in the morning." He flashed his most charming smile. He left out work hard, be kind, and always choose what's right over what's easy—all things Sydney instilled in him.
"Yup, you have your own rules. Mr. Wheaton, can I get you anything before we depart?" Derision laced her voice.
He flashed a cocky smile. "I don't think you'd be willing to give me what I need."
"That sounds arrogant."
He sighed. He'd meant it flirtatiously, testing her, trying to work his charm. Most of the women he'd encountered would have responded with what do you want, practically offering him the world. Emma had simply called him out. He liked that about her but wasn't sure how to turn off the charm.
He hated that he'd even questioned whether she was like the other girls, greedy for money and fame. She had a fixed dollar amount, which meant she had a hardship or a goal. Even though their arrangement wasn't real, she was and that was refreshing. "You could've asked for more than twenty-nine thousand five hundred dollars. Why didn't you?"
"And sixty dollars."
"Precisely. Why didn't you ask for more?"
"Remember? No questions."
He leaned back, amused, confused, and curious about her as the plane suddenly became weightless, suspended as it lifted into the air.
Emma gripped the armrests of her seat. She gazed at the ceiling. Des
pite her apparent fear of flying, it amused him how she was actually there to do her job as an assistant rather than fall for him. He may not live by the rules common to most people, but he was relieved not to have to play the game, at least not with Emma. She intrigued him.
However, she trembled as the plane gained altitude and panic seeped into her features.
He got out of his seat and crossed to the empty chair beside her because it was the right thing to do and Will didn't even need to hear Sydney's voice in his head to urge him.
"Will, you're not supposed to get up." Emma's voice quaked.
"Remember, no rules."
"That doesn't mean you can just walk around the plane when it's—"
He buckled next to her, to ease her nerves and not because he always wore his own seatbelt. "Look. I'm fine."
She wasn't. He wasn't sure what to do. He felt tempted to hold her hand and let her know they were safe, but she didn't seem like she'd appreciate that.
"I'll be fine once we're cruising." Emma took a deep breath.
"What if I told you I have Santa's best reindeer at the helm?" He chuckled to lighten the mood.
She squeezed her eyes shut and tears pierced the corners.
"If I'd known you were afraid of flying, we didn't have to go through with this."
"I thought we were staying in New York and then it happened so fast. It's not that I'm afraid of flying. It's takeoff and landing."
Will considered this. Sydney would say there's a metaphor in her comment or was it an analogy? He could never remember the difference. Starting or ending something was usually the most challenging whereas going along on autopilot was easier. Even though he wasn't sure if they were going to last more than the next few hours together he hated the idea of Emma suffering. She was smart so telling her not to be afraid wouldn't be effective. He took a deep breath and said the first and only thing that came to mind. "Look, out the window. Do you see it out there?" He infused his voice with excitement.
