The Billionaire's Fake Wife novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: The Terms

In the back of his car she dictates her clauses, signs a ten-week deal and gets his mother's ring.

The elevator doors closed on Dorian's face, and my shoulders finally came down.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Rhys Halloway," he said. "Chief executive of Halloway Holdings. Grandson of the woman with the cane."

"I figured the last part."

"You figured fast."

His car was waiting at the curb, long and black, with a driver who did not look at us.

He held the door, and I got in because I did not have a better idea.

He climbed in beside me and the car pulled away from the curb.

"You just lied to twelve people," I said.

"You lied to them too," he said. "You were very good."

"I said yes because you squeezed my hand."

"I squeezed it because you were about to get arrested," he said.

I turned in the seat to face him.

"Why would you do that for a stranger?" I asked.

"Because Dorian cut your grant to hurt me," Rhys said.

"He cut four of my projects today, and yours had a person willing to scream about it."

"So I'm a weapon."

"You're a gift," he said. "You walked in and gave me the only thing my grandmother has wanted for ten years."

"A fiancee."

"A reason to believe I'm not alone in that house," he said.

He said it dryly, but his jaw tightened on the last word.

I looked out the window at Boston sliding by.

"Say I do this," I said. "What happens?"

"Ten weeks," he said. "Until the Founders' Gala. My grandmother votes, and your sister's grant is unfrozen."

"If she believes us."

"If she believes us," he said.

"And your cousin?"

"Dorian wants my chair," Rhys said. "He'll spend ten weeks trying to prove you're a fraud."

"I am a fraud."

"You're a very convincing one."

I almost laughed.

"I want terms," I said. "In writing."

He took a leather folder from the seat pocket and clicked a pen.

"Go ahead."

I thought of Pippa in the lab, white as paper, and my voice came out hard.

"One. The lab gets the next quarter's money the day I sign. From you, not the Foundation."

"Done."

"It doesn't come back, whatever happens. Even if I leave. Even if your grandmother laughs at us."

"Done," he said, and wrote it.

"Two. I can walk away any day I want, and the money stays."

"Agreed."

"Three. When I ask a direct question, I get the truth," I said. "Or I get the words 'not yet.' Never a lie."

His pen stopped.

He looked at me for a second too long.

"Not yet," he repeated. "Fine."

"Four," I said. "No sex."

The pen stopped again.

"That's not part of the arrangement," he said slowly.

"Then it won't be a problem to write it down."

"I never said it would be a problem," Rhys said.

His eyes moved over my face, and down, and back up, without hurry.

Heat went through me from my collar to my knees.

"I'll write it," he said. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure," I said.

My voice was not as steady as I wanted.

He wrote the line and turned the page toward me.

NO SEX IS PART OF THIS AGREEMENT.

"There," he said. "Safe from me."

"I wasn't worried," I said.

"You should be careful," he said. "I'm not used to hearing no."

"I'm not used to saying it twice."

A corner of his mouth moved.

I signed the page, and so did he.

His signature was square and fast.

"One more thing," he said.

He reached into his jacket and took out a small velvet box.

He opened it, and the ring inside was a plain old diamond in a thin gold band.

"That's not a jeweler's ring," I said.

"It was my mother's," he said. "My grandmother will recognize it."

"You want me to wear your dead mother's ring?"

"I want you to wear something my grandmother can't call fake," he said.

I held out my left hand before I could think better of it.

He took it in his and slid the ring on.

It fit perfectly.

We both looked at it.

"There was no jeweler," I said.

"No. That part was my lie," he said. "The ring has been in my pocket since my grandfather's funeral."

"Small hands," he said quietly.

"Don't," I said.

"I'm only repeating the lie."

His thumb rested on my knuckles longer than the lie needed.

I pulled my hand back.

"Dinner," I said. "Tell me about this house."

"It's a stone house in Brookline," Rhys said. "My grandmother has lived there fifty years, and she notices everything."

"Great."

"She notices everything," he said again, "except when she's decided not to."

The car turned between two stone gateposts.

At the end of a long drive, a house stood with every window lit.

An older woman in a gray dress was already holding the front door open.

She looked at Rhys, and then at my ring, and she did not smile.

"Mrs. Halloway asked me to say that you're staying the night," she said.

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