by Teri Wilson
Anders sighed. “As my attorney was quick to point out this morning, marriage licenses are public record. Anyone can look them up at the city clerk’s office.”
“Oh.” Chloe’s bottom lip slid between her teeth and despite everything—despite the fact that he still expected her to bow out of their agreement as soon as she’d heard the lawyer’s assessment of their situation, despite the fact that Anders’s well-ordered life was slipping slowly into an abyss and despite the fact that he’d sworn to himself not to touch her—he went still. Spellbound. And as much as he knew he shouldn’t be aroused at a time like this, it was so damn nice just to feel again.
He’d been growing accustomed to the numbness associated with grief. He’d welcomed it. So long as he had work to do and problems to sort out—so long as he remained distracted and blissfully detached from his loss—he was fine. He could hold it together, and he could push away the memories of the things he’d said to his brother and the way Grant had looked at him before he’d stalked out of the office one final time.
There was a price to pay for that kind of numbness, though. Other things got lost in the hazy, unfeeling blur of his new existence. Things like joy. Laughter.
Lust.
He shouldn’t want Chloe Wilde. He couldn’t—not if he had a chance in hell of keeping his tiny, two-person family intact. But every so often, she had a way of making him feel alive again. And when it happened, it was like breaking through the surface of a deep, dark pool and taking the first gasping breath of air. It burned, but at the same time, it kept him going...gave him hope.
“So what happens, exactly?” she asked, and he forced his attention away from her mouth and back to her soulful eyes. “Do reporters sift through the marriage license records every day, trying to find newsworthy engagements?”
He gave her a grim smile. “That’s exactly what they do, but don’t blame yourself. I have a feeling Celestia Lane is far more interested in my recent family drama than your connection to the Bennington. From the looks of the article, she wants to paint me as some kind of romantic figure—a groom in mourning, saved by love.”
The server approached their table, and Anders was grateful for the interruption. He hadn’t brought Chloe here for a heart-to-heart. But as soon as he’d chosen a wine and they’d placed their orders, the waiter slipped away and they were alone again, with his words hanging between them.
A groom in mourning...
“Do you want to talk about it?” Chloe leaned closer, and the earnestness in her gaze made it impossible for him to cut her off.
The other women in his life knew better than to look at him like that—he wasn’t an open book. Never had been, never would be. Which was precisely why his businesslike arrangement with Penelope worked out so nicely. Or it had, anyway.
“No, I don’t want to talk about it. I—” His voice broke, and damn it if something inside him didn’t break along with it.
He reached for his freshly poured wine and took a long swallow. When he placed his glass back down on the table, Chloe was still watching him with those tender eyes of hers, waiting for him to finish.
“Grant and I had an argument,” he heard himself say. He couldn’t stop himself; the truth just came spilling out. “The night of the car crash, before he left the office, we exchanged words. It got ugly.”
“Anders, your relationship with your brother is made up of a lifetime of moments, not just his last day. Whatever happened, it’s okay.” She reached across the table and rested her hand on his. He held on tight to her fingertips, reluctant to release them, so he wouldn’t have to sit there so excruciatingly alone after his confession.
Of all people, why her? He could have bared his soul to anyone, but instead he’d just told his darkest secret to his stranger fiancé. He wanted to believe it was so that she’d sympathize with him so much that she wouldn’t walk away, that she’d stick by him and marry him even though the stakes had just risen dramatically.
But deep down he knew better. She was going to be his wife. For better or worse, she needed to know what she was getting into, even temporarily.
“I told him he was too focused on his family and he needed to spend more of his energy on work. Specifically, I said, ‘You’ve got all the time in the world. Family can wait.’” Anders slid his hand away from hers and gripped the stem of his wineglass. The dark liquid sloshed perilously close to the rim in his trembling grasp. “Right before he walked out, he called me a monster.”
He had to give Chloe credit; she didn’t even flinch. Her expression remained as calm and pure as ever. Like a Christmas angel. Then she took a deep breath and said, “I got fired on Thanksgiving Day, and I’ve been lying to my family ever since.”
Anders nearly choked on his Bordeaux. “What?”
“I messed up the legendary toy soldier routine.” Her face went as red as a poinsettia. “You might have seen the video. It sort of went viral.”
He nodded. “I think I did.”
He knew what she was doing. She was trying to assuage his guilt by confessing to her own deep, dark secret. And her transgression was mild compared to his, so it shouldn’t have worked. Somehow, it still did. Just a little bit.
“So yeah, I’m not actually a Rockette anymore. My mom and Allegra think I’m working at the studio now because I have a calf injury. I lied to both of their faces. You’re the only one who knows the truth.” She stared into her wineglass. “Except for Steven, but he doesn’t matter anymore.”
There was that name again. Steven. The ex.
Anders couldn’t help but wonder if the mysterious Steven truly no longer mattered. He hoped not. Purely for the sake of their arrangement, of course.
Liar. That’s not the only reason.
“Can I ask you a question?” he said.
“Sure.”
“What about the reindeer costume? Is that part of a cover-up, or do you simply enjoy wearing it?”
There was a beat of silence. Then the sound of her bell-like laughter broke through the somber mood that had settled over the table.
“The truth is more pathetic than you can imagine. I hand out flyers in Times Square for the Rockettes Christmas show.” She smiled at him over her wineglass.
He winced. “Ouch.”
“Trust me, it’s as bad as you think it is. But it’s a paycheck, and I keep thinking maybe I’ll get back on the performance roster if they see how devoted I am.”
The waiter returned with their food, and while he set their plates on the table, Anders tried to imagine standing in Times Square in costume for an afternoon. He wouldn’t last a minute.
“So you’d go back to performing if you had the chance?” he asked, once they were alone again.
“Of course I would. Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “You seem great with the kids at the dance studio. Lolly adores you.”
Chloe grew quiet again, and the lightness of the moment faded away. The mention of Lolly had dragged them back to reality. For a moment it had felt like they were a regular couple out on a date, but they weren’t.
“She adores you, too. You do know that, don’t you?” Chloe’s eyes shone bright in the warm glow of the restaurant. Behind her, snow beat against the window, and the sidewalk outside bustled with people carrying red and gold shopping bags. “Families are complicated. I never met your brother, but I know he loved you. If he didn’t, he never would have left Lolly in your care. Not even conditionally.”
But the condition was big, and it was time to tell her just how much of a commitment their fake marriage was going to entail.
He took a deep breath and then spelled it all out. “The article in the paper changes things. I met with my lawyer this morning and he said the press coverage of our engagement could look like a warning sign to the judge in the custody case. If we do this, it needs to look real. We’d have
to have an actual wedding ceremony instead of getting married at city hall. And we’d have to do it immediately. Tomorrow, if possible. Afterward, you’d need to move into my apartment. From the outside, we’d have to look like newlyweds. At least until the custody hearing.”
She had only one question. “Would I be able to tell my family the truth?”
Anders shook his head. “No, absolutely not. If the guardianship hearing doesn’t go well, they might eventually be asked to testify in court.”
“Okay.” She nodded.
“Okay to the part about your family or okay to all of it?”
She took a deep breath. “All of it.”
He angled his head. “You’re absolutely sure?”
She nodded again. This was officially the easiest negotiation Anders had ever been a part of.
“Why are you doing this? You don’t even know me.” His gaze narrowed.
“Honestly, I could use the money. I’m unemployed at the moment, remember?” Her gaze shifted to her lap. “Besides, you seem like a decent person, and Lolly is precious. I know what it’s like to lose a father. I wasn’t as young as Lolly is now, but I want to help her. I want to help you both.”
“Thank you,” he said, and it felt wholly inadequate, but it was all he had to offer her.
Except that wasn’t quite true. There was one other thing...
He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, pulled out a little blue box tied with a white satin ribbon and slid it toward her across the table.
She stared at it and smiled, but didn’t make a move to touch it.
Anders had never seen a woman afraid of a box from Tiffany’s before. “Open it. It’s yours.”
She picked it up. Hesitated. “Can I ask you something first?”
And here it was—the moment when she changed her mind. Anders couldn’t blame her. If he’d been in her position, he would have walked away before the appetizers arrived.
At least he thought he would. He wasn’t quite sure of anything where Chloe was concerned.
“Ask away,” he said.
She looked at the ring box and then back up at him. “Is this part of the contract?”
It wasn’t, and suddenly that fact seemed significant.
He lifted a brow. “You mean the contract that still doesn’t exist?”
She nodded. “Yep, that’s one.”
“Of course,” he lied. “Just part of the package.”
Because how could he tell her the truth? How could he admit that he’d bought her an engagement ring just because he’d wanted to? He’d managed to convince himself that it was no big deal. She was going to be his wife, after all. But the fact that he was trying to pass it off as part of a clause in a contract made him wonder if it was a far bigger deal than he wanted to believe.
“Right. That’s what I thought.” Her lips curved into a smile again, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
And as she reached for the little blue box and untied its white satin bow with trembling fingers, Anders almost believed he spied a hint of disappointment in her gaze.
Chapter Eight
“I need a favor.” Chloe stood in the grand, glittering lobby of her brother’s hotel and cut right to the chase.
Zander was a busy man, and she’d dropped by the Bennington without an appointment. Mercifully, he’d been free to see her.
He stood beneath the massive gold clock hanging from the ceiling, looking at her with unabashed amusement flickering in his gaze. “Does this have anything to do with your sudden, high-profile engagement?”
Of course he knew about Anders. The entire city did. “It does, actually.”
“So it’s true?” His eyebrows crept closer to his hairline. “Since Celestia Lane broke the story, I took it with a grain of salt. You’re really getting married.”
Zander glanced at her hand, where the Tiffany diamond on her ring finger sparkled as brightly as the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center.
She’d come straight to the Bennington from Soho House, which meant she’d been wearing it for less than an hour. During the short ride from the restaurant, she kept stealing glances at it. Her engagement might have been fake, but the ring was the most beautiful piece of jewelry she’d ever seen. She realized she was absently caressing the band with the pad of her thumb, just as a real bride-to-be might do.
It needs to look real.
Mission accomplished. But should it feel as real as it did?
“Yes, I am.” She cleared her throat. “I mean we. We’re getting married—Anders and me.”
So much for being believable.
“I see.” His gaze narrowed. “Should I go into big-brother mode and ask if this is what you really want, or would you rather I keep my mouth shut and be supportive?”
She shot him a hopeful smile. “The latter, please.”
He nodded. “Okay...”
“And if you could put in a good word with Mom, I’d really appreciate it.” She couldn’t face Emily. Chloe knew her mother, and the best way to handle her when she was upset was to give her some time and space.
Zander sighed. “How about a drink while we discuss these multiple favors I’m doing for you?”
Chloe never drank in the middle of the day, and she’d just had a glass of wine with Anders. On any given afternoon in December, Chloe was usually wearing tap shoes and running on nothing but protein bars and adrenaline. But the sommelier at the Bennington was their cousin-in-law Evangeline Wilde and her taste in wine was legendary.
“Sounds good,” Chloe said.
Thirty minutes and an incredible glass of vintage Chambertin Grand Cru later, she nodded as Zander went over the list they’d made on a Bennington notepad while sitting at the bar.
“You want a cake, a dozen or so bottles of Dom Perignon, music, an officiant...” He jotted something down. “What else am I missing?”
“Oh, flowers! Lolly will make an adorable flower girl.”
“Flowers. Got it.” He made another notation on the pad.
Couples got married at the Bennington all the time. As soon as Anders had mentioned having a real wedding ceremony, she’d hoped Zander could throw something together. And now he’d promised he would—no questions asked. If there was such thing as a brother-of-the-year award, he’d have a lock on it.
“I’ll make sure we’ve got a basket of petals for her to toss, plus a bridal bouquet. Both ballrooms are already decked out in Christmas decorations, so we probably don’t need anything else, flower-wise. We haven’t even talked about when this is happening, although something tells me it’s soon.” He glanced up, and Chloe smiled back at him.
“Really soon. The sooner the better, actually,” she said. “How about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.” He blinked. “We might need to open another bottle of wine.”
They did, and as she sipped, Zander assured her he could put something festive and intimate together. He’d even send out email invitations with the Bennington crest to Anders’s business associates.
“A Christmas wedding it is, then,” he said.
Chloe gave him a quiet smile.
A holiday wedding sounded dreamy. Christmas had always been her favorite time of year, and she couldn’t imagine anything as beautiful and moving as exchanging vows beneath a bough of evergreen and twinkle lights on a snowy December evening. She’d wear a sprig of mistletoe tucked into her upswept hair, and a string quartet would play a winsome Christmas song as she walked down the aisle toward her handsome groom.
Except Anders wasn’t really her groom. It would all be pretend—just another holiday performance.
A lump formed in her throat for some silly reason. She dug her fingernails into her palm.
Get it together. You chose this.
Yes, she had. And she had no regrets. She was doing the right
thing—a good thing. The dazzling engagement ring on her hand was messing with her head. That was all.
“A Christmas wedding sounds perfect.” Her lips trembled, as if the smile might wobble off her face. “It’s every girl’s dream come true.”
“Then I think we should toast on it.” Zander’s face split into a wide grin and he held up his glass. “Cheers to the happy couple.”
“Cheers.” And as Chloe clinked her wineglass against his, toasting to Anders and the fulfillment of her girlish hopes and dreams, she could hear a little voice in the back of her head. Whispering, warning...
Be careful what you wish for.
* * *
“You really didn’t have to reserve a room for me.” Chloe clutched her garment bag to her chest as Zander led her into the Bennington’s lavish bridal suite the following afternoon. “I just needed someplace to get dressed. I never expected...” Her throat clogged as she took in the four-poster bed, the glittering crystal chandelier and the robin’s egg spun-silk walls—something blue. “...this.”
She felt like she was standing in Marie Antoinette’s bedroom. There was even a plate of pastel-colored macarons on the dressing table, and beside it, a silver ice bucket engraved with the Bennington’s logo cradled a bottle of champagne.
Somehow she doubted the room was dog-friendly, even though Prancer’s head poked out of the bag slung over her shoulder. But she needed the puppy here with her for moral support. Other than Anders, the little Yorkie was the only living soul who knew the truth about what she was about to do.
“I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.” Zander wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “You’re my baby sister, and today is your wedding day. It’s special.”
Not quite as special as you think it is. “Thank you, but I’m not exactly a baby anymore.”
“You’ll always be my baby sister, though.” He winked. “I hope your groom realizes that.”
Chloe swallowed. Her brother would pummel Anders if he knew the truth. And then he’d probably lock her in this exquisite room and throw away the key so she wouldn’t be able to go through with the wedding.
