Forty Day Fiancé

by Erin McCarthy

“The waitress has my phone,” I murmured, low enough that no one else could hear but her. “Documentation for an interview later.”

  That made her close her mouth and purse her lips in understanding before she gave me a wide-eyed nod.

  “Is that a yes?” I asked, much louder.

  “Yes. It’s a yes.”

  Her hand was shaking when I put the ring on her finger. It looked good there.

  The other diners erupted into applause.

  She gave me a look of amazement. “Bloody hell,” she said. “It’s fucking beautiful.”

  That made me laugh. I stood up and pulled her up out of the chair. “Give me a kiss.”

  She did and it was hotter than I was expecting. It was like she poured all of her confusion and frustration into that kiss. I had to step back before I got hard in the restaurant. I turned, holding her hand, and smiled at the half dozen tables with diners. “Thank you. I’m a lucky man.”

  Felicia smiled and gave a little wave in everyone’s direction. I held her hand until she was back sitting. She put her hand out and stared at the ring in awe. I actually had zero clue what she was thinking.

  It had been a bold move on my part, getting that ring. But if you don’t aim for the stands, you’ll never hit a homerun. I’d figured if I ate the ring, so what? If we were going to pull this off, both for Immigration and for ourselves, long-term, we had to play it as if it was real.

  Because my plan was that it would be real.

  It didn’t seem like her feelings were exactly the same.

  But that could change. Would change. I would work my ass off to make sure of that. Why not take a crack at it and see if this turned into something amazing and long-lasting?

  The waitress came over to us, beaming, handing me my phone. “Congratulations, Dr. Kincaid.”

  “Thank you very much. Can we get a bottle of Cristal, please? To celebrate.”

  “Of course.”

  The minute she was out of reach Felicia said under her breath, a smile plastered on her face, “I could fucking kill you now. Like literally strangle you with my bare hands.”

  That sounded promising. “You don’t like the ring, do you? We can get a different one.”

  “That’s hardly the issue.” She was smiling in a way that should have terrified me.

  Instead it turned me on.

  “You don’t like surprises?” I asked.

  “It depends on the circumstances. I like surprise orgasms, not surprise proposals.”

  “Is there really any other way to propose?” I asked, settling back into my chair. “What fun would it be if the woman knew it was about to happen? Why even bother?”

  She made a sound of exasperation.

  “I could surprise you with an orgasm, too,” I murmured. “Would that take the sting off?”

  I put my hand on her knee under the table and massaged it.

  Felicia bit her lip like she was trying not to smile. She shook her head slowly. “Naughty bastard.”

  “I warned you.”

  “You did. I should have taken more note.”

  The waitress reappeared with a bottle and popped the cork. Felicia jumped and gave a burble of laughter, as sparkly as the champagne. The initial shock seemed to have worn off.

  I hadn’t told anyone my plan. Not even my brother. He would think I was insane and maybe I was. But I figured it was the ultimate in speed dating. After forty days Felicia and I would either be in love and ready for a commitment. Or we wouldn’t. But we wouldn’t need more time than that to figure it out because it was immersion dating and we were going to learn a whole hell of a lot about each other.

  “Were you serious about the brownstone?” she asked. “You can’t dangle real estate in front of me and then not follow through.”

  “I was absolutely serious. If we get to the altar, you can pick out whatever you want. I’ll keep my mouth shut about finishes and layouts and paint colors. I only reserve the right to say no if I think it’s financially not a good investment.”

  She sipped her champagne and eyed me. “I suppose I can’t argue with that. Though what are the odds it will come to that?”

  It was reasonable to be skeptical.

  But I felt completely confident we could make this work. “Start searching on Zillow, baby.”

  Felicia laughed. “God, you’re insufferable.”

  “It’s one of my charms.”

  “Sadly, I agree.” She leaned back in her chair, crossing her leg to the side, showing me the whole length of that sexy leather boot. “Now can we please order some food? I’m starving. My modeling days of surviving on caffeine and nicotine are over.”

  “You were thinner then? My God, you must have been invisible.” She was already thin. I couldn’t imagine her on a restricted diet.

  “Yes. Fifteen pounds easily.”

  “The doctor in me cringes at the thought of living on caffeine and nicotine.”

  “It’s a miracle I didn’t destroy my metabolism permanently.” She pulled her phone out. “Would you like to see some photos of me from the runway?”

  I nodded. “Of course.”

  She handed me her phone and I studied the image on the screen. She was wearing some kind of giant blue garment that wrapped around her like a tube. A very skinny tube. Her hair was teased up high and her makeup was hot pink. I wasn’t even sure whether it was a dress or a straightjacket. The fashion didn’t interest me though. It was her expression. The classic blank stare of the runaway model. With hollow cheeks.

  It didn’t really reflect anything of her personality.

  “Very interesting,” I said. “You absolutely look the part. I can see how you were successful.”

  “I really wasn’t that successful. But it was a learning experience, I will say that.”

  “I can imagine. Now since that was then and this is now, what would you like to order? Do you want an appetizer or straight to the entrée?”

  The look she gave me made me very aware she was no longer thinking about dinner.

  “Tonight? Straight to the entrée.”

  God, she was so fucking hot. I raised my hand for the waitress. I suddenly wanted to rush dinner and get her back to my place.

  “So we need to establish some rules,” she said, eyeing the engagement ring again.

  “I agree.” We couldn’t just stumble into this blind. We needed ground rules. “What are yours?”

  “If I’m moving in with you, all of your ex-wife’s things need to go. I can’t live in the shadow of her Louboutins. I don’t mean to be insensitive but we’ll never have a fighting chance if you’re still mourning.”

  “Done.” I didn’t really want to spell out to her that my marriage hadn’t been a roaring success. If it hadn’t been for Becca getting sick, there was a high probability we’d have been divorced in another year. But that was a conversation for another day. “The clothes were it, really. I don’t have anything personal of hers. I gave that all back to her parents years ago.”

  She nodded. “Okay, then. Also, I’m keeping my flat and you have no say in that.”

  The waitress came up to the table right then. She had pretty much the worst timing ever. Or maybe it was more like since we’d arrived, Felicia and I had been engaged in a very bizarre conversation from an outside perspective.

  “Why, do you want somewhere to meet a twenty-two-year old fuckboy?” I asked Felicia. I intended it to sound casual, but it didn’t. It sounded jealous, which was a dick move on my part. I should have let it go, just ordered some mussels and moved on, but the thought of her seeing another man got in my head and made my jaw clench.

  Her mouth fell open. “No! There’s nowhere for my stock at your place. I’m not moving all of that, for one thing. For another, I need a space to work that doesn’t involve you present.”

  “I’m at work all day.”

  “I don’t care.”

  I eyed her. I felt like we were engaged in some sort of power struggle and I wasn’t sure why. “Keep yo
ur apartment. I don’t care. I really don’t.” As long as she wasn’t meeting a man there, I didn’t. It made sense from a security standpoint for her, in case she decided she didn’t want a K1 visa.

  Or me. If she didn’t want me.

  “Just like that, you’re giving in?”

  We had to start off on the right foot or this would never work and that meant I had to fully trust what she told me was the truth. “Yes. Are you ordering or not? Anna has been standing here listening to our ridiculous conversation probably wishing we would go to hell and free up this table.”

  Given that Anna still didn’t say anything, I figured I had the right of it.

  “I’m so sorry, Anna,” Felicia said. “He rattled me at fuckboy. I apologize. I’ll take the branzino and whatever side you recommend with it.”

  “That’s a whole branzino, miss,” Anna said.

  “I know. I’m hungry,” Felicia said.

  That made me grin. “Remind me not to get between you and a meal again.”

  I ordered the duck and sipped my wine as the waitress retreated. The champagne was too sweet for me to have more than a few sips. “Clothes gone and you want to keep your apartment. Anything else?”

  “You let me have the TV remote, generally speaking.”

  “Now hold on a minute. What do you mean by generally speaking? Are you going to be blaring HGTV and the Food Network twenty-four/seven?”

  “I don’t watch Food Network. Good God, who do you think I am? I am not a woman who cooks. I do watch a lot of HGTV but I also might be a bit obsessed with crime TV. You’d be amazed how many people disappear and no one ever finds their bodies. How do you hide a whole body? It’s astonishing.”

  I stared at her, not exactly sure if she was serious or not. “You’re not watching that shit in the bedroom. You can watch it in the living room but not in bed. I’m not going to fall asleep with Deadly Women playing in the background.”

  She laughed. “I can see how that might be off-putting. That’s fair. Keep murder out of the bedroom.”

  “I want that made into a neon sign for over the bed. Very modern.”

  “I’ll get you that as an engagement gift,” she said.

  Felicia lifted her champagne glass and tilted it, eyeing me mischievously from under those dark lashes. It was a look that both turned me on and made me wonder what the hell I was getting myself into.

  “A gift isn’t necessary. Though a party probably is. For legitimacy.”

  Her eyebrows went up. “We can’t tell people the truth, can we?”

  “No. If we do, then they’re culpable if they’re questioned and they lie. No, we have to tell our friends it’s a whirlwind engagement.”

  “My friends are going to figure it out. They’re not stupid.”

  “But you can’t confirm it.”

  She sipped from her glass, then set it down. “A holiday engagement party?”

  “That works. Are you done with your demands?” They seemed simple enough. I had zero objections to what she had requested.

  “We have to agree to show each other our absolute worst,” she said. “If you want this to be a true litmus test. No putting on our best behavior. We have to be truthful and authentic.”

  I frowned at her. “I’m not sure about absolute worst. I agree with you that we should be authentic, of course. But we don’t need to test each other’s limits.”

  “I disagree. I’m going to show you all my annoying qualities so we don’t get swept along with the fantasy.”

  I was about to grumble but agree when she raised her index finger.

  “Oh, and one more thing. No sex.”

  Seven

  “What?” Michael sounded outraged. “Why? That’s ridiculous.”

  “I don’t want us to get confused by lust and attraction and think it’s something more than it really is. We have to know our feelings are real if we decide to stay together after the forty days.”

  “We’ve already had sex. Great sex. You can’t exactly undo that.”

  “Those are my rules.” Or guidelines. I wasn’t entirely sure I could do forty whole days without sex, giving that Michael was right. It had been great sex. “We can tonight, but once I move in, we need to show restraint.”

  “That makes exactly zero sense. We’ll be living together. Sharing a bed. Showing our friends that we’re having a relationship. People doing all of those are having sex.”

  “This isn’t a normal relationship.” The champagne was going to my head. I needed a meal or I was going to wind up believing this was a real engagement. But the bubbly tasted delicious and I couldn’t seem to stop drinking it.

  I was wearing a Tiffany engagement ring on my finger. It felt foreign and heavy and kept glinting in the candlelight. I was sitting across from a man I barely knew and promising to move in with him open to the possibility of both marriage and children. It was insane and I knew it was insane. And yet, I had said yes.

  Ninety-nine percent of the reason I’d said yes was to give myself time to figure out a way to stay in the States. Whether that was as Michael’s fiancée or for another reason entirely. But there was still one percent of me that had said yes because I wanted it to be real. Because it gave me a sliver of optimism that somehow in the end this could all sort itself out and I would have a husband.

  But I had to stick with the no-sex rule because I couldn’t let myself fall in love with him until I knew he was in love with me. Nor did I want to be the person who confused lust for love, which was obviously quite the common mistake. So I had to show restraint, which sucked.

  “I want this to be a true test of our compatibility.” I gave him a charming and possibly buzzed smile. “Please?”

  He stared at me. He rolled his eyes. He swore under his breath. “Fine. But I get tonight. And I mean, all night. You’re not going home five minutes afterward like last time.”

  The thought made me shiver in anticipation. I nodded. “I accept your terms.”

  Michael pulled a face. “How did those end up being my terms? I think I got a shit deal in these negotiations.”

  I put my hand over his and massaged it. “Shh. Don’t worry, it will go fast. Would you like to add anything else?”

  “Yes. The standard prenup contract.”

  That didn’t bother me in the slightest. The man clearly had money, both from his career and from family. “Of course. I’m happy to sign anything.”

  “You have to go to the hospital’s holiday party with me.”

  It wouldn’t be my first choice of things to do, but I could manage. “Sure, not a problem.” I drained my champagne. “May I have another glass?”

  He lifted the bottle from the bucket and poured for me. He handed it to me and I tipped my glass back and let the smooth liquid fall down my throat.

  “Sex or not, you have to show affection to me. Hugging, kissing. A lover’s nickname.”

  I’d definitely had too much champagne because I leaned in closer to him and said, “Can I call you daddy?”

  The sound he made in the back of his throat and the narrowing of his eyes showed me exactly what he thought of that.

  My nipples hardened. I felt a rush of heat in my core.

  My teasing had just backfired on both of us.

  * * *

  I couldn’t get Felicia back to my apartment fast enough. I basically dragged her through the lobby and waited impatiently for the elevator. Once it opened and we stepped inside, I pulled her against me and kissed her with all the pent-up passion that had been brewing while we finished dinner, the champagne, shared a tiramisu and sipped espresso.

  It was debatable if she’d even wanted dessert or she was just tormenting me.

  Which she was good at. No sex for almost forty days? That was bullshit.

  But bullshit I was willing to endure if it meant at the end I’d have Felicia in my bed every night.

  Tonight was about satiating myself to survive a month without, but also it was an opportunity to drive Felicia wild. Make
her acknowledge what a hot and intense connection we had.

  Her coat was covering the majority of her body, so as I kissed her I unhooked the coat’s belt so I could slip my hand inside. She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me back eagerly, our hot breath intermingling.

  Aware there were cameras monitoring the elevator, I didn’t want to take it too far but I did push her against the wall and slid my hand down over her hip. I broke off the kiss and pulled back, cupping her cheeks and staring into her blue eyes.

  “I want you so bad,” I murmured. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

  Felicia didn’t say anything. But she reached out and stroked her hand across the front of my pants, easily finding my hard cock. She gave it a squeeze.

  Damn.

  The diamond ring I’d given her glinted on her finger. I was about to say to hell with the cameras when the door dinged and slid open. I took her hand and pulled her down the hallway. My apartment had a touch pad entry, so I punched in the code and shoved the door open. Tugging her inside, I immediately pushed her against the wall. It was harder, more urgent than I had intended, and when she gasped at impact, her eyes darkened.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, the corner of her mouth turning up in a smirk.

  “You know exactly what I’m doing.” I eased my hands inside her coat and up to her shoulders to push it down off of her. The coat pooled at her feet and ankles.

  As I stripped off my overcoat and my suit jacket, I took in the sight of her. She was pressed against the wall in that tight, form-fitting dress, the black boots nearly meeting the bottom of the dress. There was a ribbon of pale skin between the two and it made me want to feel her skin, bury my hand under her dress. Kissing her hard, passionately, I gripped that exposed area of her flesh, before greedily easing up her dress.

  Felicia broke off the kiss and gave a soft gasp. She reached out to hold on to my arms and arched her hips towards my touch. I absolutely loved how she never hesitated to show how turned on she was. It made me want to give her as much pleasure as possible.

  As I ran my hand up her inner thigh, I reminded her, “All night, Felicia, all night.”