by Desiree Holt
“I should hope not.” His eyes held a glint of hurt. “I like my women with me by choice, not coercion.”
“I didn’t mean—” Crina felt like she had been socked in the stomach by her assumption and his resposne. It came out so quickly, and was a logical conclusion to jump to, but that fleeting look of hurt in his eyes….
“I know you didn’t,” Mateo reassured with a squeeze on her shoulder. “I have the penthouse and it comes with a lockout suite. Janis wanted it. I didn’t want her to have it and said it was for Lily, and there you were, needing a room. I just acted.”
Crap on a cracker. Not only did he offer her a room, he offered her one someone else wanted, someone who could actually pay for it. There was no love lost between her and Janis to be sure, but taking a paying spot from her wasn’t sitting well with Crina.
“So you lied to her about Lily?”
“I circumvented the truth, something I vow to never do with you.”
It was such an odd thing to say. Vow. More than a promise, yet, if he was a liar, did it mean anything? Crina inhaled deeply as the elevator, the world’s slowest elevator, chimed yet again. She believed him for some reason she couldn’t quite grasp.
“I always have them stock both rooms with lilies when I come.” He reached out as if to touch her before pulling his hand back.
Her heart softened even further toward this man whose last name she had yet to learn. It was his mother’s favorite flower, and he always had them in his rooms. What man did that? One whose love of his mother ran deep and who was open enough to share his emotions, that’s who.
It hit Crina that always in this case meant he came here, to this high-end, over-the-top elegant hotel, often. From the elegance of his suit, most likely for work. She gave a weak smile before looking down, embarrassed by her current state.
“That’s really sweet, but that still doesn’t fix the fact that I can’t afford this place.” She couldn’t afford the cheap hotel in town, much less a room here—on the penthouse floor.
“I know.” Of course, he knew. He’d heard her at the front desk. Her cheeks heated as the elevator doors finally opened. Mateo held his arm out and gestured for her to exit. As she passed, he said, in a quiet voice filled with more concern than censure, “Why is that by the way? I mean, why are you on vacation without the funds to be there?”
Crina was taken aback. His words, at face value, were accusatory, but his tone told a different tale. It held concern and something else she couldn’t quite place. She stopped outside the elevator and waited for him before answering.
“I’m not on vacation. I just moved to town, and two weeks later my building became ‘unsuitable for habitation’ due to my landlord not paying our water bill for apparently…ever. Everything else is booked, so here I am.” She spoke at the speed of lightning, fearing she would chicken out too soon.
“Fuck,” he mumbled, more to himself than to her.
“I’ll be fine.” She stepped closer to him and placed her hand on his arm. She felt called to comfort him, even though he was the one with the penthouse and money. “I have a plan.”
“I’m sure you do, Crina.” He brought his hand up to cover hers. “But I said fuck because now my offer is going to sound like I’m trying to take advantage of you.”
“Offer?”
He waited until her eyes met his before asking, “Will you be my girlfriend for the weekend in exchange for money?”
The Arrangement
She had to have heard him wrong. There was no way this gorgeous, very loaded man had a difficult time getting a girlfriend. None.
“Come, have a seat, and we can talk about details,” Mateo said to a dumbstruck Crina.
It wasn’t until he took her hand and led her into the small sitting area that she realized they had exited the elevator directly into his suite. She had never been in a hotel room as large as this, and from a quick gander, she guessed they had entered only a tiny fraction of the suite.
She found herself automatically sitting on the settee instead of being smart and getting the heck outta Dodge. It felt like she needed to be there, even if she would have been the girl on the movie screen everyone yelled at to run right before the ax murderer got her. No, to her, this cliché murder movie scene setup felt meant to be. Crina would not say that aloud, though, for it truly was crazy as crazy could be.
Her meemaw had always told her to listen to her gut. That she knew better than anyone else what she should or shouldn’t do, and that listening to someone else, even her own brain, was foolish if her gut contradicted.
Up until that morning, when the evacuation pandemonium began, Meemaw had been right. Crina had won a scholarship to a university, but her gut told her to go to the local community college at a higher cost. The freshman dorm at the university had burned down her first semester. Best case scenario, if she had accepted the scholarship, would have lost her possessions, worst case—her life. Coincidences like that happened a lot in her lifetime, so when her gut spoke, she listened, even when her brain was yelling at her to stop. Right now, her gut was saying to listen.
“Why do you need a girlfriend, and what does that even mean?”
“You met Janis?”
She nodded, although met wasn’t the way she would describe it. He sat in the chair directly across from her before continuing.
“Janis’s father is a, shall we call it, ‘business associate’ of mine. We both come from very powerful companies, and he has always wanted me to marry his daughter.”
Eyes wide, Crina stared. What kind of business could they possibly be in that would include marrying off a daughter, and why was there the shall we call it in the middle? She grabbed the pillow beside her and held it in front of her. She had always been a fidgeter, and a pillow was much better than the bouncing knee and hem twisting she was trying hard to avoid. She might be nervous about the scenario, but she wasn’t nervous about Mateo. And if the pillow helped, so be it, even if she looked silly.
“Last year, she decided her daddy was right and started hunting me down.” Hostility toward the woman flared in Crina like a gas-doused fire. If she hadn’t known better, Crina would have categorized it as jealousy, but who gets jealous of people they don’t even know? Crazy people, that’s who. Crina rationalized it away as residual anger over her sore shoulder.
“I have been kindly rebuking her advances, but in the lobby she upped her game and tried to get in my lockout suite. I lied and then you were there, and here we are.”
She knew the story was far more complex than he let on, but his words held sincerity and he never once avoided her eyes or looked just above them the way liars would. Something had her trusting the sexy man before her.
“Why is she so persistent if you aren’t reciprocating?” She put the pillow to the side.
“I am very powerful, and she wants that power. She doesn’t even like me.”
“I noticed the fake smile.”
He belted out a chuckle before standing up, walking over to her, and pointing to the seat beside her. She gave a small nod and turned slightly to face him when he joined her. Feeling him so close had her wanting to scootch even closer, a feeling she inwardly chastised herself for.
“She lives in that fake smile.” He shrugged his shoulders slightly, and, instantly, in a move that surprised Crina, placed his hand on hers. Sure, he had held her hand before, but that was for show and this, this was not. Or maybe it was for show, but not for others, simply for her. No, that didn’t feel right. This was just because, and that had her belly filled with butterflies.
“What kind of business?”
“A conglomerate.” His thumb rubbed the back of her hand, and she forgot why she even cared. Whatever his business entailed, it was doing right by him and that was all that mattered.
“And what would I have to do, since sleeping with you is off the table?” Girlfriend was such a broad term, and she needed guidelines before she agreed, especially since from the moment they met she was att
racted to him. She could easily be swayed down a snogworthy path if guidelines weren’t in place from the get-go. A little pit formed in her stomach at the realization that being his fake girlfriend meant she could never be his real girlfriend, something a much-too-large-for-her-own-good part of her truly wanted.
“Oh, beautiful Crina, I never said it was off the table, just that it wouldn’t be for money.”
She felt the heat in his voice, and, for a fraction of a second, thought he was going to kiss her. Goodness help her, she would have let him, too.
“I don’t even know how to respond to that.” Not appropriately, anyway. Nope. She wasn’t going to go there. This was a business transaction, one she desperately needed.
“I apologize. I forget.” Forget? Forget what? His slight move away from her hadn’t gone unnoticed. Had it been her imagination that he wanted her even a fraction of a bit as much as she increasingly wanted him?
“What I would ask you to do is sleep in the adjoining suite, eat a late dinner with my associates tonight, and additionally, during the weekend, be available for dates and/or meetings depending on how things go in the morning.” Nothing there sounded unreasonable, and when his thumb started to rub the back of her hand, she struggled to maintain focus as he continued. “If negotiations go well, you probably won’t need to go to as many things. If they go poorly, I might need you at dinners through the middle of next week.”
“I thought this was for the weekend.” Not that the evenings mattered, but she had work and needed to find a place to live. Being his pretend girlfriend during the week might cause her more harm than the free room did her good.
“It is, but can we leave in a continuation clause?” He sounded hopeful, which seemed odd to her since it would mean negotiations weren’t going well.
“I have to work,” she blurted out with far less elegance than she intended.
“Only for dinners, then.” It wasn’t a question. He already knew she was going to say yes, which she of course was.
“And if I agree, I just sit and smile and pretend my world is all about you.” If so, she was going to nail it.
“Pretty much, and I will behave the same toward you, of course.” Why, oh why, couldn’t it be real? Crina rolled her hand over, encouraging him to intertwine their fingers, which he did. A bold move she hadn’t planned. A bold move that simply felt right.
“Will we have to kiss, hold hands, and stuff like that in public?” She wasn’t sure which answer she wanted. She imagined kissing him would ruin her for all other men. There was just something about him. There was also the it would make me a whore thing, but that didn’t bother her nearly as much as it should, given the circumstances.
“Hands—yes.” He looked down at their joined hands and smiled. It wasn’t a teasing smile indicating her question was silly. No, it was a sincere smile, as if he enjoyed it as much as she did. “Kiss on the cheek—probably.” She tried hard not to let disappointment sink in, even though disappointment was now sitting heavily upon her.
“You’ll probably also get kissed on the cheek and hugged by the others at the table.” Her head popped up in shock at that one. “It’s cultural.” He shrugged. That made sense. She had seen many people greet each other that way. They were usually elderly, but it wasn’t uncommon in her hometown.
“Ummm, okay,” she conceded, not that it was much of a concession considering even if she had another choice, saying no to this man would have been challenging. However, she didn’t have another choice other than a box in the alley.
“Okay you’ll do it?” Hope? Was that hope she heard in his voice? She wanted to believe it was, more than she probably should have. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
“Okay to the hugging of strangers, but no.” Looking in his eyes, she shook her head. His face fell. “Sorry, I meant…I didn’t bring anything other than work clothes with me, and I can’t go back to my apartment until things are straightened out. Will the monetary portion be enough to buy some dinner outfits? I can mix and match and bargain hunt, tomorrow, but I really would like to not cut into my savings since I might not have a place to stay after this.” She was babbling. Even if she could go home, she had one, possibly two dresses that would work, and she doubted recycling dresses was deemed appropriate in his world. She didn’t want to say yes and embarrass him, and at the same time she couldn’t afford anything new on her own in case the city decided to keep the building closed and a security deposit on a new place was needed.
Grrrrrrrrr.
“Did you just growl at me?” Crina was startled, but not scared of the noise she was fairly sure was coming from the man sitting next to her, holding her hand as if it were precious.
“Not at you, no.” Not at her, but yes to growling? She would broach that topic later because right then there was just far too much already swirling around in her head. “Of course, I will supply you with dresses. After you get settled in, I’ll have the boutique downstairs send up some clothes and shoes for you. We are meeting everyone at nine.”
Crina glanced at the clock on the wall in front of her. It was already a few minutes past eight. She would need to rush and hope the dress fit if she were going to commit to this, and they both knew she would.
“So we’re doing this?” He smiled brightly at her response, and she had an impulse to rub her cheek against his. An impulse she controlled—barely.
He leaned in close, his cheek so close to hers. Only a few millimeters and she could … no, she wasn’t giving into her oddly sensual desires. No sirree. She was going to sit there and act socially acceptable. Yes, she was, at least until he whispered in her ear, “We are.” At that she gave into her impulse and rubbed his cheek with hers before sitting up straight, pretending it never happened. He had the decency to pretend along with her, even as his eyes darkened the slightest bit, showing it affected him also.
“And you’re not a serial killer or anything?” She went for a silly joke, but when his face tightened, she knew she missed her mark.
“What does your gut say?” He turned his body more fully, his knee now on the chair.
“You sound like my meemaw.”
“She sounds like a great lady.” Smiling at his response, she turned her body to mimic his. “So, what does it say?”
“She was a great lady.” The moisture glistening in his eyes told her he, too, had felt great loss. She wondered idly if it had been his mother. She had not known her mother, but the loss of her meemaw, who’d raised her like a daughter, had hit her hard. “It says you are safe and important.” She hadn’t meant to let the last part slip, but it was true. He felt more. More what? She wasn’t sure.
“Mine says you’re important, too.” He spoke so quietly, a small part of her wondered if she had imagined it.
Dinner—Take One
The suite she was given was ginormous and so elegant. She had expected a bedroom with a bathroom, not a suite larger than the house she grew up in. True to his word, there were lilies throughout. They were beautiful.
After the world’s fastest shower, she walked out of the bathroom in the plush robe the hotel provided to find three dresses laid out on her bed that looked as if they belonged on a runway and not her very average body. They had to have cost a fortune, and she planned to return two of them and pick more reasonable outfits from the clearance rack at the department store the next day.
After a few moments of debate, she picked a lavender dress with a fairly low-cut top and full skirt. It was the most modest of the dresses and the most like something she would pick out for herself—if, of course, it had been on the clearance rack. As she picked up the dress, she revealed a bra and panty set to match. Clever man, leaving it under the dress so she wouldn’t see it and get the wrong idea. Of course, these dresses would need undergarments that fit the cut. She could only imagine the bra picked to go with the one-shouldered number.
She slipped the luxurious clothes on before stepping into the shoes, which might have been designed to kill her.
They would be a one-and-done pair if she had any say about it. They had her wobbling, so she took some practice walks through the suite before returning to the bathroom to throw on some mascara and lip gloss, calling it good. Her hair was naturally curly and naturally dried quickly, which helped her start-to-finish time dramatically. A quick glance at the clock told her she was ready with twenty minutes to spare.
She knocked on the adjoining door, hoping the dress would meet with his approval. She felt beautiful, and normally that would be enough. Tonight, however, she wanted Mateo to think so also. She felt him coming before she heard him, the anticipation of her date building. Not that it was a date, not really, but, for tonight, she was going to pretend.
The door swung open, and she was greeted with a smile. He had changed suits, and his hair was still damp—oh how she wanted to run her fingers through it. She was so not this girl. Heck, she didn’t date, but there was something about this man. This man who was only pretending to be hers.
“Breathtaking,” he let out with reverence. “We should go over some tiny details about us before we leave. We are dining here in the hotel, so we have some time.”
She nodded in agreement and followed him into the main suite, where he handed her a glass of wine. She sipped as she listened to him tell her where he was from, where he went to school, and where they “met.” In return she told him about growing up with her meemaw after her mom just didn’t come home from work one day, her college days, and her new job. In the end, they decided just to let whoever was asked the question guide the answer, being as truthful as possible.
The ride down in the elevator was excruciating. The urge to rub up against him slammed into her as soon as the doors closed. His hand held hers the entire time, neither of them speaking. Crina wondered if he felt the pull, too. She wasn’t a ten by any means, and he probably had women throwing themselves at him daily, yet a very large part of her desired his reciprocation in this like or lust or whatever the heck it was.
