Intimate Mergers

by Raleigh Davis

  Which is confusing, because Amelia and Lucy have always been friendly, if not friends.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Amelia’s not too happy about this whole thing.” Lucy doesn’t look away from her.

  I study Amelia myself. She looks like she always does. “I don’t know what you mean. She’s been fine as far as I can tell.”

  My sister shakes her head. “No, Amelia is about to crack. This secret affair’s been going on too long. She needs to tell her family the truth or end it, but she’s too much of a coward to do either.”

  “Amelia’s not a coward,” I instinctively say. She’s always been fragile though. Which suddenly strikes me as completely ridiculous considering all the advantages she’s had in life. What the hell does Amelia have to be fragile about?

  My sister rolls her eyes. “Of course she is. And because she is a coward, she’d make a terrible wife for you.”

  “That’s not what you said—”

  Lucy ignores me, her attention focusing on Grace. “Now Grace—”

  “I’m not marrying her.” It’s out of the question, and if my sister’s got matchmaking designs, she can quit it right now. “It’s ending when I leave or she does—that’s the whole point of the scheme. It’s not to get married.”

  “It could become real though.”

  “You need to stop watching so many K-dramas. They’re pickling your brain.”

  She reaches out and swats me. “My brain is just fine. I’ll have you know that I recently got a massive grant renewal, all thanks to my brain.”

  My sister, in addition to be annoying and vivacious and flighty, is also a world-famous scientist. She has a lab of her own at UCSF and everything. I’m not entirely sure what she studies—when she starts talking, it sounds like Mongolian to me—but everyone is always exclaiming over what a genius she is.

  I have to admit I’m pretty proud of her and what she’s achieved, not that I’d ever tell her that. At least not unless I was on my deathbed.

  “Grace just has this… poise,” my sister goes on. “And you… you like her.”

  I suck in a breath. Of course I like Grace—but Lucy means something different. Deeper.

  I’m attracted to Grace. And I fall deeper and deeper into it every time I see her. Which means I’m going to be out of mind with lust by the time this ends.

  I close my eyes and sigh. The trouble isn’t going to be pretending to be crazy about Grace—the trouble will come when I try to get her out of my system once this is over.

  Answering Lucy would be useless. Because I do like Grace and I can’t.

  Lucy keeps on going though. “I think Mom suspects something’s up.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that,” I say dryly. “But at least she’s not talking about my marrying Amelia anymore.”

  Lucy pulls the exact same face she did when we were kids and she couldn’t get a second dessert. She’d ask for a second dessert, get told no, then keep on asking. See what I mean about being annoying?

  “Is Grace really going to be deported?”

  Yeah, she is. And I don’t think there’s a damn thing I can do about it. “Immigration is insisting on it, so yes.”

  “I thought those H-1B visas were easy to transfer. Whenever we do it, it’s not so bad.”

  Sweet, innocent Lucy. No one in academic science ever wants to punish their ex-employees through the immigration system. “They’re actually not that easy to transfer. But when your former employer is a complete asshole with the ears of the highest levels of government, it gets much, much tougher.”

  Grace is rising, offering Auntie May her arm. Auntie May’s probably ready to go home. Before I can step in and summon her driver, Grace is gesturing to him with her free hand. With a smile and a final bow, Grace hands Auntie May over to the man. I can’t remember when I last saw Auntie May smile like that.

  It’s a simple thing, making sure my Auntie May leaves safely, but those little things matter. The family needs someone looking after those little things as much as the big ones.

  Lucy raises an eyebrow when she catches me staring after Grace. “See? You’ve got that look again.”

  “We’re pretending to be engaged.” But I force myself to look away. Grace said goodbye to my aunt, that’s all. She’s pretending here too.

  “You’ve never been that good of a liar,” Lucy says.

  “Watch me.” I catch Grace’s eye and crook a finger at her. We’ve done enough faking tonight—it’s high time we went home. “I’ve already got you believing, don’t I?”

  With that, I leave my annoying sister behind and go to rejoin my temporary fiancée.

  Chapter Eight

  By the time we say our goodbyes to the last family member and make our way to the parking lot, I’m barely holding in my yawns. I had no idea pretending was going to be such tiring work. I guess actors really do earn those paychecks.

  Paul, in contrast, looks as crisp as ever. He ushers me into the car with perfect grace and charm, smiling as if he’s secretly looking forward to the rest of our evening, although no one’s out here to see. I suppose it doesn’t hurt to be too careful though.

  I let my head fall against the soft leather headrest, eager for my bed. Was it really just this morning that I had the interview at Pixio? It’s like I’ve lived several lifetimes since then. At least I can sleep in tomorrow. In fact, if Paul hadn’t given me the job of pretending to adore him, I wouldn’t have much of anything to do for the next few weeks besides pack up my things.

  “You all right?” he asks as he swings the car out into traffic.

  I sit up straight. “I’m fine.”

  “You did this… sigh.” A note vibrates low and deep in his voice.

  “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.” I’m tempted to ask him if I did okay, but that would feel too much like begging for his approval. I’d like to hear that I did well, of course, but I want him to freely offer that praise.

  And I want to know that his family was convinced that I was good enough for him. Being confronted with his mother’s choice of a bride rattled me a bit. Amelia didn’t impress me exactly, but there’s no denying she’s more beautiful, more elegant, than I could ever be.

  I don’t know what to make of Amelia. I suspect Lucy’s right about her, that she’s weak. I suppose I should feel sorry for her, but I can’t be that sorry. Amelia has all the money in the world, and maybe if she actually tried speaking with her parents instead of hiding her true feelings, she might be a happier person.

  Of course, I also understand the importance of family. If I were in love with someone my father wouldn’t approve of, I’m not sure if I would tell him either. Actually, I don’t think I’d ever date someone my family didn’t approve of. I certainly haven’t until now.

  Now I’m lying to one of the richest, most powerful families in the world. And unless I tell my parents the truth, I’ll be lying to them too.

  I let my gaze run over Paul, who’s concentrating on the road. His forehead is stern—traffic is heavy—but his lips remain soft. It would take a great deal of anger to make his lips hard, I think.

  Would my father approve of Paul? It doesn’t matter since our engagement is fake anyway, but now that I’ve asked the question, I want an answer.

  Paul has excellent manners, comes from a very respectable family, and perhaps that would be enough for my father. But Paul is also lying to his mother without much guilt. That’s a definite strike against him.

  “Thank you for taking care of Auntie May,” Paul says without looking at me.

  “I didn’t do anything, simply called her driver and then helped her to him. Anyone could have done it.” I had noticed him in the corner, taking a break from the incessant demands of his family. May had wanted to go interrogate him on some detail of her personal investments, but I distracted her with small talk until she was ready to go home. Paul deserved to keep that moment of peace without any interruptions.

  “Hmm.” He sounds as if he doesn’
t quite believe that, but I don’t see why. “How was meeting the infamous Lillian Tsai?”

  He’s mocking me, but it’s gentle. “Your mom scares me. In a good way.” I look out the window at the scenery blurring by. “I don’t think I fooled her.”

  Paul laughs humorlessly. “No, she’s not going to be easily convinced. But I haven’t had to propose to Amelia yet, so our plan is working so far.”

  I keep my head turned away as my chest pinches. My feelings shouldn’t be involved, but it still hurts that he isn’t more… effusive about my efforts tonight. I’m doing this as a favor to him—I thought I did fairly well with limited resources and on such short notice. I’m not going to win any acting awards, but he could be a little bit more appreciative.

  The silence between us spreads, adjusting itself until it fills the entirety of the car. I guess we don’t have much to talk about since we’re not talking about my immigration situation, but the silence still feels awkward and wrong.

  We’re supposed to be engaged. We don’t have to pretend to love each other right now, but shouldn’t we at least be practicing for the real thing?

  “What pets did you have as a kid? And which did you love best?” I ask out of the blue.

  Paul’s head snaps over in surprise. “Pets?”

  “Yes. I know the name of your fifth cousin twice removed, but I don’t know anything about you. We didn’t talk about your cousins on our fake dates.”

  He drums his fingers against the steering wheel, then stills them. “I didn’t have any pets. My mother thought it unfair to add to the servants’ duties.”

  Oh. That’s horrible. I swallow, trying to think of something to say beyond How sad. And it’s so uniquely horrible, so very poor little rich boy.

  “We had a cat,” I say instead, brightly. “She was a calico with patches of white and orange and black. She always seemed very proud of her looks, but I suppose she had the right. She was very pretty.”

  His expression is reluctantly curious, like he wants to ask more but doesn’t want to seem too interested in a cat. “Is she still alive?”

  “No, she passed away right before I left for university. My parents were so heartbroken they couldn’t bear to replace her. Her favorite cushion still sits on the window ledge.” A notebook of my great-uncle’s poems sits on the table next to the window, both reminders of beloved things my family lost and continues to mourn.

  “I’m sorry,” he says with deep sincerity.

  “Thank you,” I reply, just as sincere. There’s a beat of silence, but this time it’s more comfortable. Lived in. “I should probably also know your favorite color. Your aunt May wanted to buy some shirts for you, and she was asking which color would be best.” I nibble on my lower lip. “I didn’t know your birthday was coming up.”

  He closes his eyes for a moment. “Shit. I forgot to tell you about that.”

  “It’s okay. I was able to fake that I knew it.”

  “Wait… what color did you tell her?”

  “Oh, I said that safety orange would be best. That I was inspiring you to be more daring with your fashion choices.”

  There’s a moment of shocked quiet. “You… you’re joking?”

  I snort. “Of course. As if your aunt would ever believe I could inspire you to something like that.”

  The look he sends me is intense, burning. But only for an instant, and then he’s back to unflappable Paul. “Maybe you should come stay at my place. Then we’ll have more time to go over details like this before the gala.”

  My cheeks go red hot. I’m not prudish, but the thought of sharing a space, even platonically, makes my skin ignite. And not just with embarrassment.

  “That’s not really necessary,” I stammer. “What would your mother think?”

  “Do you really care what my mother thinks? Besides, she’ll never find out. You can’t really be scared of her.”

  “Not scared exactly. But your mom is pretty freaking amazing. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do.” His tone is grim. “Which is why I’m going through all this, so I can take over the company but not have to marry Amelia.”

  I wonder who he’ll end up marrying. Probably someone like Amelia, only without the secret long-term love affair. Born to his exclusive world of privilege and wealth, who won’t have to memorize his fifth cousin twice removed because she’ll have already known them her entire life.

  He won’t have to pretend with her.

  “I’m not comfortable lying to your mother any more than necessary,” I say stiffly.

  He catches my implied criticism—he’s clearly fine with lying to his mother all over the place—and his expression shutters. “You have to decide soon if you’re coming home with me. The turnoff is coming up.”

  I have no idea where he lives. I suppose I could’ve found out in one of the many fawning profiles of him in the Asian papers, but I never read them. I was trying to not feed my obsession.

  Considering how frosty the atmosphere is between us, I won’t have to worry about that.

  “If you think it best…”

  “I do,” he says shortly. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have suggested it. Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell anyone. Your reputation is safe.”

  My mouth purses. He makes me sound like some kind of shrinking virgin. I was only thinking about his mother and how she would take it.

  And maybe a little bit about my own weakness when it comes to him and how I’m going to survive that much closeness. But we’re faking being engaged—you can’t get much closer than that. I can handle sleeping under the same roof. And I’m guessing his roof is pretty big.

  I also want to prove to him that I don’t care, that staying at his place is no big deal.

  “Okay,” I say offhandedly. “But I’ll need to get my things.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Lucy is going to take you shopping tomorrow. Apparently I picked out all the wrong things.”

  So that’s the real reason he’s irritated—his little sister insulted him. I suppose Paul can’t wear his polite mask all the time, but I never imagined it could be like this. It’s not off-putting—more like a juicy secret only I’m allowed to know. Paul Tsai, superbillionaire and heir to one of the finest families in Asia, can also be persnickety. It’s cute.

  No, I’m not using that word. Cute is dangerous. Cute is intimate, the word a woman uses when she knows a man way too well. Cute is not what I get to call Paul.

  I clear my throat, getting any lingering bit of cute out. “I like Lucy.”

  Paul smiles, his expression filled with affection and exasperation. “God, she’s so annoying. But she seems to like you too.”

  I don’t have a sister, and Paul’s obvious love for his makes my chest ache. Lucy would be a great sister to have, and I kind of wish she could be mine. Only that will never happen.

  “She doesn’t seem to like Amelia,” I say carefully. I’m watching his reaction much too closely.

  He blinks, but that’s all. “Hmm.” It’s not a warning, exactly, but it lets me know I’m treading too close to an area I shouldn’t.

  Fine. We don’t have to discuss the woman his mother really wants him to marry. None of my business.

  Except maybe it kind of is since he pulled me into all this. But I let it drop.

  “Where am I supposed to appear next?” I can’t keep the trepidation out of my voice. Tonight was survivable but not exactly fun.

  He sighs. With class, but it’s still a sigh. “I’m hoping everyone will be too busy getting ready for the gala to do another family dinner.”

  I frown. “But the gala is three weeks away. They’re going to take that long to get ready for a party?”

  He sends me a sardonic look. “They’ve spent all year getting ready for this party. The second they leave the opera house, they’re already planning their dresses for next year. And how to outdo whichever rival pissed them off that year.”

  I’d say that it sounds like a K-drama, excep
t I have to live through it somehow. “Sounds fun.”

  “It’s not that bad. We raise a lot of money, and the food is always… decent.”

  “Don’t oversell it,” I say dryly. “Backstabbing with a side of mediocre food. What’s not to love?”

  He starts laughing again, almost against his will. “When did you get such a smart mouth?”

  I’ve always had it, but it’s not something I bring out for just anyone. I guess I feel comfortable enough with him to be sarcastic. Or maybe I need to release the pressure of this charade though snarky remarks. “Don’t worry. I won’t be smart with your mother. Or any of your other relatives.”

  The grin he sends warms me from the inside out. Overheats me, really. “Oh no, you have to do this for Lucy. She’ll be so disappointed if she doesn’t get to see this side of you.”

  He gets off the freeway at the 84, going west instead of east, taking us up and up into the forested hills of Woodside.

  “You live up here?” I ask. Woodside is mostly rural, at least rural as far as billionaires define it. It’s mostly twenty-acre lots with stables and swing sets and private hiking trails. It’s for families, not dashing bachelors like Paul. Superrich families, but still families.

  “It’s more private out here.” He shrugs. “I like having a space that’s all my own, that no one else can get close to.”

  “Kind of like a castle with a moat.”

  He looks puzzled at the reference. “I suppose so. But no dragons.”

  We drive for some time, going higher and higher into the hills until there are very few signs of civilization. Finally we turn in to an unmarked driveway protected by massive wrought iron gates. Paul doesn’t have to punch in a code; the gates just open automatically for us.

  Although it’s dark, I get the impression of massive trees lining the drive, blocking out anything that might be beyond them. I guess Paul wasn’t joking when he said he valued his privacy. There’s literally nothing else around us, but he still feels the need to screen his driveway from view.

  The drive up to the house feels endless, and not just because I’m nervous. This really is a long driveway.