by Melinda Minx
James just looks horrified. He nearly drops the teapot, and it clatters as he puts it down on the table, his hands visibly shaking.
I start walking toward Liam, but James rushes toward me and grabs my hand.
“That dress wasn’t supposed to be in there,” he whispers into my ear.
“Too late,” I whisper back, breaking out of his grip and sitting down beside Liam.
“You’re Belle?” Liam’s mom says, smiling.
“No…” I say, looking at Liam in confusion. “Amber, didn’t Liam--”
“Of course!” his mom says, laughing. “I know you’re Amber. Liam has told me so much about you. But you’re dressed as Belle.”
Belle? Shit! Is this dress from one of Liam’s ex-girlfriends? She accidentally left it in the closet, and James didn’t notice, or--
“Claire is wild about that movie,” the man says. “She’s dragged me with her to see it twice already. I’m Davis, by the way.”
He reaches out a hand, and we shake.
“Nice to meet you,” I say. “What movie?”
“Beauty and the Beast!” Claire says. “You’re dressed up as Belle!”
I look down and gasp. No wonder the dress looked familiar! I’m wearing a fucking Halloween costume! I’m the Beauty from Beauty and the Beast.
“I guess I’m the Beast,” Liam says, laughing.
He turns toward James, whose face is burning red. “James,” he says. “Tell your cousin we found her costume.”
“Liam,” he says. “I’m sorry, I--”
“It’s fine,” I say, laughing. “Liam told me to choose by closing my eyes and just pointing to a dress. It’s his fault, not yours.”
I glare at him.
I bite my lip and look over. “I think I’m going to go change--”
“Nonsense!” Davis says, grinning. “Claire will like you even more if you look like Belle!”
15
Liam
The chef has prepared lobster and truffle potatoes for dinner.
“There are really truffles in these?” Amber asks, poking at the mashed potatoes with a fork. “What do they taste like? Aren’t they like a hundred dollars a pound or something?”
I elbow Amber and whisper into her ear, “We’ve been dating eight months, remember? You’d have had truffles by now.”
“These are the truffles we had last time,” I say louder. “Not those more expensive ones I told you about.”
“Oh,” she says. “Right.”
She takes a bite, and her eyes light up. “Just as good...as last time.”
“I remember the first time I had truffles,” Davis says. “I literally became rich overnight, and I asked the chef to bring me a whole truffle.”
“You didn’t!” Claire says, grabbing his arm.
“Overnight?” Amber asks. “How?”
“Silicon Valley,” Davis says. “Mid-eighties.”
Amber still looks confused. I don’t think she understands what a goldmine that area was in the mid-eighties, if you knew where to put your money at least.
“I took the truffle,” Davis says. “And I took a big bite out of it. I figure that bite must have cost two or three hundred dollars.”
“How did it taste?” Amber asks.
“Why don’t we see?” Liam says.
Claire laughs. “Come on, you can’t be serious--”
“I’m very serious,” I say, and I ring the bell to summon Andreas.
Andreas, one of the chefs, appears a few moments later. “Yes, sir?”
“Can you bring us a basketful of truffles, Andreas?”
He narrows his eyes. “I put generous portions in the potatoes, sir. I--”
“The potatoes are great,” I say. “Just bring us the basket, though.”
He nods and disappears back into the kitchen.
“We don’t have to,” Amber says. “It seems like a waste--”
I shrug. “I’m curious myself. I want to try it.”
I’ve done a lot of wasteful and decadent things in my time, but I can’t say I’ve ever bitten into a full-sized truffle.
Davis laughs. “They used to train dogs to hunt for truffles, but more often than not, the dogs would devour the whole thing as soon as they found it.”
“Really?” Amber asks. “Since when do dogs like mushrooms?”
“Dogs will eat their own shit,” Davis says, laughing.
Claire elbows him.
“Ah,” Davis says, throwing up his hands. “Sorry! I’m new money I’ve still got a mouth on me!” He leans forward, looking at Amber. “Since the dogs eat the truffles, that’s why they use pigs nowadays.”
“Wouldn’t pigs be even worse about eating them?” Amber asks.
“Apparently not,” Davis says.
“They say the pig has a more sensitive nose, too,” I say. “Can sniff them out from deeper down.”
Andreas brings out a basket of truffles and sets it down on the table.
“Let’s dig in,” I say.
I see shock on Andreas’s face.
“Andreas,” I say. “Take a few home for yourself.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, his eyes widening in amazement.
“Positive,” I say.
He nods and picks out a few.
“That was nice of you,” Amber says, smiling.
“I think he was going to bust a gasket seeing us waste the truffles like this,” I say, watching Andreas disappear into the kitchen. “We might as well give him a few to use properly at home.”
“Should we put butter on these or something?” my mom asks skeptically.
I shake my head. “We are trying to get the full natural truffle flavor.”
We all take a bite at the same time. It tastes just like a mushroom at first, but then all kinds of other flavors explode in my mouth. I’m most interested in watching Amber’s reaction.
Her eyes widen in shock as she chews. I’m tasting notes of chocolate and rich butter--even though there is no butter on them.
Then it completely overpowers me. A funky taste explodes in my mouth, like dirt and earth and way too much of some type of spice. The taste fills my nose up with an almost burning sensation, and a palpable musk fills my nose even as it burns.
I see Amber nearly choke, and my mom is coughing into her napkin.
We look up at Davis, who is just laughing. He’s laughing so loudly that his face is turning beet red. He starts gasping for air.
I swallow down the truffle, praying that the overpowering musk will die down sooner rather than later.
“Were they…” Amber says, gasping, “Bad? Spoiled?”
Davis slaps his knee and tries to get words out between his laughter. “I never thought you’d actually do it!” he says. “I thought I was the only one in the world dumb enough to eat a whole truffle! They shave small pieces off of it for a reason!”
I grin at Davis, but my mom shoves him and pouts. “You are unbelievable.”
“You don’t look surprised, Mom,” I say, resting a hand on Amber’s leg. I feel bad that she got tricked, even if I did, too.
Mom rolls her eyes. “Davis thinks pranks are funny. I do not.”
“It wasn’t a prank!” Davis says. “Not exactly! I just wanted you guys to experience what I did!”
I smile at Amber, but I see her cheeks are burning red, and she’s staring at my hand on her thigh.
I pull my hand away reflexively, but she looks up at me with glassy eyes. Shit, did she want me to keep my hand there? Too late now.
“Does Liam ever prank you, Amber?” Davis asks.
“Uh,” Amber says, her voice cracking.
Does proposing to her in a pantry with no warning count as a prank?
“Not really,” Amber says, offering no further details that could catch her in a lie. Then she looks down at her dress. “Unless the Beauty and the Beast dress was some kind of elaborate trick.”
I laugh. “No way, you chose that one yourself! Out of dozens of dresses!”
“You do look beautiful,” Davis says. “Liam is a lucky man!”
Amber blushes again, and smiles. “Thank you…”
After we finish the main course, Andreas brings in dessert. After the overpowering truffle experience, the decadent chocolate dish feels like a bit much for me, but Amber devours it.
After dessert, we are served coffee and brandy in the lounge, and Davis excuses himself to use the restroom.
“So,” my mom says, as soon as Davis is gone. “Why did you do it?”
I cock my head. “Do what?”
“Fake this engagement,” she says.
Amber’s eyes bulge, and she looks at me, hoping I’ll know what to say.
I lock eyes with my mom, trying to feel her out. I might be able to deny it, but if she knows, she knows. It might be safer to just reason with her.
“Why do you think that?” I ask.
“Oh, come on,” she says. “First of all, I found out about your contract with Cynthia Frost years ago. You are a dumbass by the way, for signing that.”
I glare at her.
“And besides,” she says. “You have never been able to keep a secret, Liam. Let alone for eight months. So how did you rope this poor girl into doing this?”
Amber is staring at the floor, but I stand up beside her, put an arm around her, and pull her against me.
“I paid her off,” I say.
My mom scoffs and rolls her eyes. “This is going to blow up in your face.”
“Not if we keep it airtight,” I say.
“I won’t tell anyone,” she says. “Not even Davis.”
“Mrs. Lions,” Amber says, finally looking up. “I don’t want you to have to lie to your boyfriend for us…”
“Us?” my mom asks. “So there is an ‘us?’ You are invested in this beyond whatever my son paid you?”
Amber bites her lip, then says, “Well, he’s been very nice to me. I want him to win.”
My mom laughs. “Well, that’s sweet. But no, I won’t tell Davis. When this is all over--however it ends--I will call it a prank. He’ll get a kick out of that.”
“Do you have any advice, Mom?” I ask.
“You’re asking me for advice?” she says, putting a hand on her chest. “That’s a first!”
“You saw through it,” I say. “We obviously have to get better at selling it.”
“Don’t sell it then,” she says. “I see the way you two look at each other. Make it real. More of that,” she says, pointing to my arm around Amber. “Make it real.”
I laugh dismissively, but I have to admit I like the idea. Why not just give it a real shot? Even if it doesn’t end up working out between us, at least it will appear more believable than with both of us trying to pretend.
“That’s up to Amber,” I say, “because--”
“No,” she says. “I think Claire is right. Neither of us are good enough actors. So if we can’t act, we can…”
My mom laughs, smiling ear to ear. “This is great. It’s stupid as hell, and I can’t believe my dumbass son got you into this, but just maybe you two have a chance!”
I wouldn’t mind having some fun with Amber, but I didn’t dodge marrying Cynthia just to marry someone else. Staying free and unchained was the goal all along.
But why does that idea of freedom not appeal to me like it once did? I look down at Amber in the bright yellow dress, and I feel her warm skin beneath my hand. She’s just another woman, selected nearly at random, so how could she so drastically change what I want out of life?
16
Amber
When Liam’s mom and Davis are gone, I suddenly feel this horribly awkward tension in my chest. I’m still wearing the goofy Belle dress, and I’m a little bit flushed from the brandy. Mostly, though, I’m nervous as hell about what I am pretty sure Liam and I agreed to in front of his mom. That we were going to “make it real?” Yeah, I’m pretty sure we both said that.
What does that even mean? Are we going to start dating, taking it slow like I usually would? Or are we going to suddenly act like we’ve been dating for eight months?
The real question on my mind now? It’s if I am going to sleep with him? And when?
He kissed me--no, we kissed--one time so far. He’s touched me a few times, mostly as a comforting and somewhat intimate gesture, but nothing overtly sexual. But if we are going to make things real, I can only imagine that means sleeping together.
He’s...definitely a guy I’d like to sleep with, that much is for sure. So why am I feeling so incredibly nervous about it?
“Sorry about the dress,” Liam says, breaking me out of my worried daydream.
“It’s fine,” I say. “I used to love the old Disney movie.”
He smiles. “I think my mom really liked you.”
I nod absently.
“The thing we talked about,” he says. “We don’t have to, unless--”
I look up at him, locking eyes with him. We’re standing in the foyer, and he’s towering over me, as usual.
“I don’t know exactly what I was agreeing to,” I say.
“I know,” he says. “I don’t either actually.”
“What do you think it meant, though?” I ask.
This is a ridiculous question. Am I asking him what he thinks his mom meant, or what he meant? Or maybe even what I meant?
He lets out a dry laugh. “I haven’t really dated anyone in years, Amber. I think Cynthia was the last person I was at all serious about. Though, that was…complicated.”
“You slept with a lot of women, though,” I say, just wanting to get it out there.
He nods. “Yeah. So what does it mean? To make it real? It’s not just sleeping with you.”
I feel my cheeks burning. Not just sleeping with me implies that it will include sleeping with me.
“Maybe we should just get it over with,” I say.
He laughs. “Get it over with...like ripping off a band-aid?”
“Liam,” I say, feeling like an idiot. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Why don’t we go on a date first,” he says. “See if we really even like each other.”
I already like him. I don’t think I need to go on a date with him to figure that out, but I won’t turn down the opportunity to go out on a date with a billionaire.
“Okay,” I say, nodding. “So tonight’s dinner with your mom and Davis didn’t count?”
He shakes his head. “Of course not, trying to get you to lie to my mom isn’t exactly romantic or what I’d consider a date. This will be a real date, relaxing and with no pressure. Sound good?”
“Yeah,” I say. “That sounds really good.”
There’s a quiet knock at my door, and I can barely open my eyes. The room is still dark, with only the slightest hint of sunlight streaming in through the sheer curtains.
“Yeah?” I shout out.
“Time to wake up.” It’s James’ voice.
“What for?” I ask.
It’s the weekend, why would I wake up at the crack of dawn?
“Your date,” James says.
What the hell kind of date starts before the sun comes up? Maybe Liam really isn’t right for me if he thinks waking up this early is fun and relaxing.
I stretch resignedly and get out of bed. “Okay, I’m coming.”
“Pack a bag for two days,” James says. “And be ready to go in an hour.”
Pack a bag? So we’re going on some kind of trip? And telling me to get ready in under an hour? That is anything but fun and relaxing.
I open a suitcase and then shift into the closet to stare at my wardrobe. What the hell am I supposed to pack?
“James!” I shout, and open the door.
I’m wearing pajamas, but James is gay, so I don’t really care if he sees me.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“It’s a secret,” he says.
I sigh. “If we’re going on a skiing trip, I need to pack one thing. If we’re going to the beach,
I need to pack something different. Help me out here. Give me a clue.”
“Everything you need will be there,” James says. “Clothes included. Pack only extra things you might want.”
“Like what?” I ask.
He points to the desk and my stack of textbooks. “If you have homework to do over the weekend, for example.”
“So I don’t need to pack any clothes?” I give him a questioning look.
“Wear something comfortable,” he says. “I suppose if you have a favorite dress, you could bring it…”
I roll my eyes at him, thinking of his cousin’s Beauty and the Beast costume.
“No favorites.”
“Alright then,” he says. “Just get ready to go. Liam doesn’t like being late.”
17
Liam
“Tell me,” she says.
I shake my head.
We’re sitting next to one another in the back of the limo riding to the airport. Not that Amber knows even that much.
I considered taking her out on my yacht, but I decided to save that for another time.
She crosses her arms across her chest and pouts. She seems just as annoyed at me as she does excited.
“I’m an early riser,” I say. “You might have to adapt to that.”
“I’m not,” she says. “Why do I have to adapt to you? Why isn’t it the other way around?”
“Because,” I say, grinning, “I’m in charge.”
She scoffs, but I know she knows I’m right.
“I’ve seen you stay up way past midnight before,” she says. “I assumed you were more of a night owl.”
“I only need a few hours of sleep,” I say. “I guess I’m both.”
“So where are we going again?” she asks.
“Not telling you,” I say, looking back down at my laptop.
“You know,” Amber says, “if this is a date, you shouldn’t really be working.”
I glance over at her. She’s wearing form-fitting jeans and a t-shirt. Her hair is pulled up into a messy bun, and she’s still got some gunk in the corner of her eyes from waking up too early. She looks good despite it all.
