by A. Zavarelli
“I’m sure you’re curious which one is yours.” Madame Jackie laughed nervously. I could tell she was trying to break the tension in the room, but it wasn’t working. This guy’s cool composure was uncrackable.
“Harper, would you please step forward and introduce yourself.”
It took a moment for me to realize she was talking to me. I was still about five minutes behind on everything that was happening. I looked like a complete idiot as I stepped forward, nearly stumbling right into the table.
“H-hello.” I flashed him a smile. “I’m Harper.”
Thank you, Captain Obvious. Did that seriously just come out of my mouth?
His eyes raked over me, and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. It took him forever to finally speak.
“This isn’t going to work.”
Oh, God. I was officially going to die of embarrassment. He hated me. I knew this was going to happen. My eyes burned with tears as Madame Jackie clasped her hands together and considered him shrewdly. I just wanted to run from the room, but Katia stepped forward and took my hand in hers again, anchoring me in place.
“I’m sorry, Mr. King,” Madame Jackie spoke. “I don’t understand.”
“You expect me to take her to meet my family?” he arched a brow. “She looks exactly like the kind of woman my mother would want me to marry.”
“Isn’t that the point?” Katia interjected. There was ice in her voice, and I could tell she was getting defensive.
He gave me another quick glance and then looked away uncomfortably. “She’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong. It’s just she looks so… wholesome. I was expecting more…”
He seemed to be lost for the right word, and I was glad. I really didn’t need to add anything else to my list of what I wasn’t. I had enough on there already.
“I assure you, she’s going to be exactly what you want, Mr. King,” Madame Jackie said smoothly. “If you need her to sex it up a little, she can do that. Little black dresses, heavy on the makeup… whatever you want.”
At this point, my face was on fire. I wanted to bolt. I was right on the verge of doing just that. But I kept thinking of the money. Of the freedom this two weeks would bring me. Could I survive two weeks of hell for a clean slate?
“Can you do that now?” he asked. “We need to get going soon, and I won’t have time to stop.”
“Of course.” Madame Jackie nodded to Katia, and she took my hand.
She led me from the room, and I expelled a huge breath as we walked back to the wardrobe.
“You know you don’t have to do this,” Katia said softly.
Even as she spoke, she was browsing through the clothing racks. She knew better than anyone how much this money would mean to me.
“I can do it,” I assured her. “I have to. So sex me up, Katia. I don’t even care at this point. He wants sexy that’s what he’ll get.”
Katia grinned and winked as she pulled a tiny black dress from the hanger. “That’s the spirit baby doll. I think this should work just fine. And Franco would kill me, but I’m going to smoke the shit out of your eyes right now too.”
“And don’t forget the red lip,” I said in a mock imitation.
We both laughed, and some of the tension drained from my body. It was just a game, I told myself. I could totally do this. I could totally pretend to be someone else.
It was only two weeks of my life. What was the worst that could happen?
Chapter Five
When I walked out of the wardrobe, I was surprised to see Mr. King standing there waiting. He fidgeted with his cufflinks and checked his watch several times before he noticed me. He seemed on edge, but the moment he laid eyes on me, his expression changed.
His gaze burned a path down my body and sent my pulse skyrocketing. If I didn’t already feel exposed, the flare of hunger in his eyes definitely accomplished that. I wasn’t used to men looking at me that way. I wasn’t used to dressing… like this. My heels had gotten taller, the dress shorter, and the way his irises were contracting, I’d definitely met the requirements on his list. It set off a chain reaction in my own body, and I wasn’t sure why. On the inside, it annoyed me that I had to dress a certain way to meet his standards.
All the better, I thought. It was going to make my job a lot easier over the next two weeks. The man might be hot as hell, but he was an arrogant ass. The kind who needed his woman to look a certain way before he deemed her acceptable.
Hah.
Madame Jackie stepped forward and coaxed my long black hair into a smooth line over my shoulder as she met Mr. King’s gaze.
“Better?” she asked.
“Much,” he replied in a rough voice. “We should probably get going.”
Katia hugged me with instructions to call her anytime I needed to. I thanked her and Madame Jackie and then stepped towards Mr. King.
“Your bags are already in the car,” he said gruffly. “Do you have everything else you need?”
I nodded.
Whatever hunger I’d seen in his eyes the moment before had vanished, and now his face was a carefully composed mask of neutrality. He didn’t look altogether pleased about this whole situation, but he ushered me towards the door anyway. I took one last look at Katia and then stepped outside.
***
The car ride was uncomfortable to say the least.
Mr. King still hadn’t spoken to me, and that might have been alright if he was actually driving. But of course a man like him had a driver. So that left him sitting right beside me.
I spent some time fidgeting with the hem of my dress and staring out the window. I couldn’t glance in his direction for fear of the disappointment I might find in his eyes. I knew they were on me because I could feel them.
“Harper?”
Oh, God. He was trying to talk to me. He’d probably changed his mind. He was going to pull over and kick me to the curb before we even got there.
“Yes?” I croaked, still unable to look at him.
“Do you mind facing me when I speak?”
His voice was firm and exuded authority that I felt compelled to obey, so I turned towards him slowly. For a moment, I allowed myself to get lost in his endless dark eyes. They really were beautiful.
“What I said earlier…” He rubbed his fingers over his jaw. “It was nothing personal.”
“Of course.” I gave him a tight smile. “It’s just business, right?”
He seemed uncomfortable with my observation. “I don’t often do this,” he admitted. “Actually, I’ve never done this. So I think it’s important I explain what it is I need for you to do.”
“Okay.”
I folded my hands in my lap to keep them from shaking. It was hard to concentrate on his words when he was staring at me like that. His face was still composed, giving nothing away, but his eyes were warm and filled with what I could only describe as curiosity.
“When we’re around my family, I need you to act like a doting girlfriend. Nothing too dramatic. They just need to buy into it.”
“Alright.” I nodded. “I think I can manage that.”
“But there will be some special events,” he continued. “Dinners, parties, things of that nature. And there may be a time when I need you to take it up a notch.”
“Okay.” I swallowed. “So will you tell me beforehand?”
“I might not know,” he said. “So I thought we could use a code word. And if I say it, then you’ll know what I need from you.”
“A code word?”
This sounded more like some sort of spy operation by the minute.
“Anything you want. Something you could drop into casual conversation, but nothing that would be used too often.”
I furrowed my brow as I rummaged around my brain for a word that fit that description. It wasn’t as easy as it sounded. I thought of some of the code words Katia often used to describe her dates, and those were way too obvious. Something simple was what I had in mind. Something that would catch my at
tention when he said it.
“How about…” I worked to keep my voice smooth and in control. “You just call me a pet name when you want me to kick things into high gear.”
This response made his eyes flare, and I wasn’t quite sure if it was surprise or something else entirely.
“Like a term of endearment?” he blinked. “That’s good. I never thought of that.”
“Thanks.” I lowered my lashes and shrugged. “So do you have anything in mind? What do you want your family to see me as?”
His gaze dipped and roamed over my body once more before he tore it away. There was a beat of silence that he used to contemplate.
“How about vixen,” he said quietly.
I started fidgeting again. It seemed odd to me that this man wanted me to act sexual with him in front of his family, but he didn’t actually want sex. For a second I almost questioned if it was because he was gay. He didn’t put off that vibe though, at all. Maybe that was just wishful thinking on my part.
“Vixen sounds fine,” I agreed. “But can you give me some idea of what you’d like me to do exactly when you use that word?”
His eyes shifted away again. This conversation seemed to be making him very tense for some reason, but these were his rules, not mine. And I needed to know how to play the game.
“Just… make it seem like you can’t get enough of me.”
His face held a hint of insecurity, and I almost couldn’t believe it. The man was absolutely gorgeous, but for a moment, it looked like he didn't quite know it. My face flamed with heat as my brain conjured up a visual of me shoving my tongue down his throat. What the hell was wrong with me?
“Okay.” I whispered. “Anything else I need to know?”
“My family might test you,” he said. “They will suspect you’re a gold digger. They might quiz you on a few things. So I guess we should use this time to get to know each other.”
“That sounds reasonable.” Despite what he just said, I liked this part of the game.
“You’ll need to call me Jameson when we’re there,” he instructed. “Do you need some background on me?”
I blinked in his direction, probably looking like a deer in the headlights. Wasn’t that the point? “Yes?”
“What don’t you know?”
Again, I blinked. “Everything. Should I know more? Was Madame Jackie supposed to tell me?”
A grin spread across his face, and my heart escalated. He had a beautiful smile, complete with dimples. How did I not see those before?
“My apologies,” he said. “Most of my life is a matter of public record. You really don’t know anything about me?”
“I’m afraid not.” I shook my head. Maybe I should have been better prepared. I should have used google. But I didn’t read tabloids, and I rarely had time to pick up a newspaper.
“I have to admit, this is a first,” he said.
It wasn’t arrogant or cocky, but it was obvious he wasn’t used to telling people anything about himself. I guess most of them already knew.
“Okay, well…” he blew out a breath. “I’m a real estate developer. King Industries. Ever heard of it?”
A sheepish grin spread across my face as I shook my head. “Nope, sorry.”
“Well, you don’t need to know the ins and outs of my work. What I do should be sufficient. You can say you attend business functions with me from time to time to make it sound convincing.”
“Sounds practical,” I agreed. “So what do you like to do when you’re not working?”
This brought another smile to his face. It had a direct correlation to something deep inside of my belly.
“I work a lot, so there isn’t time for much else,” he explained. “But I travel when I can. And I play soccer on a social team during the summers.”
“You do?”
I stared at him, envisioning him out on the soccer field. He certainly had the body for it. I was willing to bet he was a force to be reckoned with inside or out of the office. He was built, but lean, and now I was really curious what he looked like when he wasn’t in a suit.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“Sorry?”
“Soccer,” he smirked. “Do you like it?”
I’d like to see him play it. So it was a half-truth. “Yes.”
“Hmm…” He smoothed his fingers over his stubble, and my eyes followed them. “What else? I should have probably prepared a list.”
“How about your favorite color?”
“Black,” he answered without pretense. I could see that by his perfectly cut suit. He was damn fine in it too.
“Food?”
This question brought a hint of pink to his cheeks. “Pumpkin spice cookies.”
I grinned. Those were my favorite too. “How about drink of choice?”
“Maker’s Mark, on the rocks,” he said, and then added, “you’re pretty good at this. I guess I should have realized you’re a professional. This is what you do for a living.”
Whatever small comfort that existed between us disappeared with his statement. I didn’t know why, but it stung that he assumed he was just another number to me.
“Right.”
“So what about you?” he asked. “What’s your backstory going to be? I’m sure you already have one you give when you’re out with clients, so it’s probably best to use that.”
Yeah, except I didn’t.
“Well, as you know, my name is Harper Nichols. I lived in West Virginia until I was twelve, so that’s why I have a bit of an accent. After that I moved to Jersey. I like chocolate chip cookies.” Lie. “And sparkling Shiraz. My favorite color is purple.”
He frowned, and I wondered if it was because of the obvious flatness in my voice. Almost all of that stuff was true, except for the cookies. I wasn’t going to admit I liked the same kind he did.
“What about your family?” he asked. “They’re going to want to know.”
I wrung my hands together and glanced out the window. “No living relatives, so it shouldn’t be a problem. But I can tell them whatever you’d like in that regard.”
He was quiet for a moment, but I couldn’t look at him. I didn’t want to see his pity or his questions of whether or not I was telling the truth.
“Okay, one last thing, Harper,” he said. “What should we tell them you do for work?”
“You mean besides being a whore?” I answered through bleary eyes. “I guess that wouldn’t really fly, would it? I don’t know, Jameson. What do you want me to be? This is your game after all.”
Chapter Six
Jameson hardly said two words to me after my little meltdown earlier. I didn’t blame him. I had no idea why I was letting my emotions get the best of me in this situation. I needed to get it together, and fast because we were pulling up in his family’s driveway.
The place was a mansion. Quite literally.
The exterior was ivory colored stone with giant white pillars that resembled some sort of Romanesque palace. It was breathtaking, especially against the snowy backdrop.
I was officially out of my league before we even stepped foot in the door. Still, I straightened my spine and acted unimpressed. I did this sort of thing all the time. Yeah, right.
Jameson looked just as uncomfortable as I did when we walked up the stairs. I wondered why. The large oak door swung open, and a woman with pale blonde hair and dark eyes pulled Jameson into her arms.
“I’m so glad you’re here, my beautiful boy.”
He showed his dimples for a moment before he straightened his expression again.
“Harper this is my mom, Julia King. Mom, my girlfriend Harper Nichols.”
“Oh, it’s so lovely to finally meet you,” she gushed, pulling me in for a warm hug. I was a little taken aback by her warmth, but I recovered quickly.
“It’s lovely to meet you,” I replied.
“Come in, come in.” She ushered us inside. “Your sisters are going to be so happy to see you.”
We made it all of ten feet before we ran into four other women who resembled Jameson’s mom. I ventured a guess these were the sisters.
They took turns hugging him and exchanging quick pleasantries before their eyes fell on me. And suddenly, I was even more uncomfortable in my short dress and sky high stilettos. I could only imagine what they must think of me.
“Harper, these are my sisters.” Jameson gestured awkwardly. “Evelyn, Amelia, Lacey, and Lily.”
“Hello.” I nodded. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Lily stepped forward right away and pulled me in for a hug. “Thank you for coming. It’s so nice to finally have our brother home for the holidays.”
Huh?
I tried to sneak a glance at Jameson, but he looked away. Evelyn was staring at me, her eyes narrowed. I could already tell she didn’t like me, and I hated that. I wanted to tell her this wasn’t me. But this was all part and parcel of the game.
Julia caught her staring and a silent look passed between them before she ushered us to another staircase.
“Why don’t you go upstairs and get settled,” Julia urged. “Dinner will be ready in a couple of hours.”
“Thanks, mom.” Jameson leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek, and I have to admit, I swooned a little. It was clear there was something going on between him and his family, but it was also obvious he loved his mother. Very much.
It made my heart ache a little knowing I would never have anything like that again. I tried to ignore those feelings as I followed him up the grand staircase and into a master suite.
“They obviously expect us to sleep in the same room,” he uttered in a stiff tone. “So you can have the bed. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
“You don’t need to do that,” I protested. “I can take the sofa.”
It felt weird to be sleeping in his bed while he slept on a couch.
“You’re not sleeping on the sofa, Harper. These next two weeks are probably going to be rough, so you’ll need all the rest you can get.”
“Okay.” I frowned at his cryptic words. How rough did he think it was going to get exactly?
