Chapter 17

I turn and blow Easton a kiss. He looks so damn good in that black T-shirt that gives the perfect peek of his dark ink. Under his baseball hat, I know there’s a head of messy brown hair. Hair that plenty of women would die for the opportunity to run their fingers through.

If I were an outsider, watching us, I’d believe we were falling in love.

I know better though.

I also know fourteen days is all it takes for him to grow bored, so being with him for a year concerns me.

What if he turns into a complete monster on day fifteen?

The thought makes me laugh. What if he turns into a beast? I snort, thinking about it.

At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter; I’m getting paid, and I’ll make a new friend. It’s only one year, and he’s promised me adventures. Easton Calloway isn’t the type of man who lies.

“I didn’t realize he had so many damn tattoos,” Carlee mutters, pulling my attention back to her. “I wouldn’t have recognized him in the wild.”

“There are more than what you can see,” I confide, recalling the memories of when I’ve seen them.

“You’ve seen them?” she questions.

“Yes,” I say, knowing exactly what it sounds like, but I don’t correct her or give any additional information.

It feels like months have passed since crashing into Easton at the Tower, but we’re only on day nine. Maybe that’s why most women don’t last two weeks. Everything moves so quickly with him, even his relationships.

“Did you know he’d be there?” Carlee asks when we’re on the sidewalk.

“No,” I admit. “But he does live very close, so bumping into him doesn’t surprise me.”

“Which means, in a few hours, you’ll live close.”

I told her I was moving out over brunch at a cute restaurant near Central Park. Most would consider it a hole-in-the-wall, but they have the best smoked salmon bagels in the city, and their iced coffee is to die for.

I was nervous to admit I was moving in with Easton today, worried about what she’d say, but she supported it without any pushback. Sleeping on her couch in her tiny apartment was a temporary arrangement until I got back on my feet. Neither of us expected this though.

Finding a billionaire bachelor wasn’t on my bingo card. It’s a shock to the world.

I turn around and point to the oversized hanging balcony and the penthouse that looks like a diamond in the day too. The blue-tinted windows sparkle in the sunshine.

“That’s it,” I tell her.

Her brows rise. “No way.”

“It’s gorgeous inside, with leather furniture, fluffy rugs, high ceilings, and a view that’s unheard of. And his library …”

“Please invite me over ASAP.”

“Once I’m settled, consider it done.” Nervous laughter escapes me.

I’m fully committed to Easton and to being his temporary wife. The thought of being all in for a lie terrifies me, but I believe we’ll pull it off. I remember why Easton is doing this—because he cares about his family’s business and their employees.

We take the stairs that lead below ground and wait for our train to arrive. A small crowd of people forms around us, so we move farther down to have some privacy.

Carlee shoves her hands in her pockets and grins at me. “You’re falling in love with him. I can see it on your face.”

“It’s been ten days,” I tell her.

“And you’re already moving in together,” she says. “You know the rhyme.”

I shake my head. “Don’t start.”

“First comes love, second comes … just saying, falling in love looks good on you.”

She knows me better than I know myself at times. We dated the same man in college, and she watched me fall back in love with my now ex after a summer fling. In my adult life, she’d recognize it, and she’d also notice when something was off. She believes I’m falling in love, and the thought scares me more than anything.

I can’t. I won’t. I know what it leads to—heartbreak.

This is my moment of truth, and I don’t say anything. I don’t confirm or deny the allegations. I sit in her words, marinate in them, so she keeps talking.

“He looks at you like he’s totally obsessed. I mean, I get it. You’re hot. The both of you just … match. It’s like … wow.”

I smile.

“I wish I had that,” she says.

“You will,” I tell her. “You’ll find something that’s real, with someone who makes you excited to wake up in the morning. I promise.”

One day, years from now, I’ll tell her the truth. It’s a promise I make to myself as we step onto the train.

Carlee says something to me, but I’m caught off guard when I see Brody at the opposite end of the car. He doesn’t make eye contact, and as soon as we step off, I stand on the platform with my arms crossed over my chest and wait for everyone to clear out.

“What are you doing?” Carlee asks, confused when I don’t budge.

As soon as Brody steps off, I walk over to him. “Seriously?”

He shrugs. “It’s for your protection, Alexis.”

“Lexi.” I narrow my eyes. “So, you can talk?”

“Oh, hi,” Carlee says, tucking her hair behind her ear while batting her eyelashes.

I elbow her. Her flirting with Easton’s bodyguard is the last thing I need.

“I talk when I have something important to say,” he explains, but says it like I should know that. His voice is deeper than I expected, and it catches me off guard.

This man is tall and buff with tattooed arms, and I know he’s carrying a weapon under his jacket by the holster I see strapped across his chest. He’s not someone I’d want to wrongly cross. Then again, everyone in Easton’s life has that don’t fuck with me vibe. But I can’t deny that there’s something familiar about him too.

“Can you not follow me?” I ask.

He glares at me.

“Please?”

“I have orders.”

Our next train arrives, and people flood on and off. I sigh, knowing my days of strolling the city without a buff shadow are over.

I glance at my best friend. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“You’re joining us?” Carlee asks him with a smile when he follows behind us.

He doesn’t answer her either.

Carlee loops her arm in mine while we walk home. We’re only eight blocks from our apartment, but it’s enough time for her to ask me every question under the sun. The cogs in her brain are turning as curiosity eats her alive.

“Okay, who is he?”

“Easton’s bodyguard. He’s been keeping tabs on me,” I whisper.

“I wouldn’t mind a man like that following me everywhere.”

“Hush,” I say with a laugh. “He’s usually stealthy and I don’t see him. The one day I know he followed me, I never saw him once.”

“Hmm, I guess there’s no reason to hide anymore though. You and Easton fucking Calloway are publicly dating. You should have expected this.”

“Shh. I don’t know if he’s listening to our conversation.”

Brody chuckles.

I turn to him. “See, you are.”

“Not purposely. You’re louder than you think.”

“Pretend like we don’t exist.”

He shakes his head. “With that attitude, you’re gonna bust Easton’s balls.”

A smile takes over. “You’d better believe it.”

“Oh, she is,” Carlee agrees and turns to me. “Now, can we walk a little faster? That coffee is making a comeback.”

“Eww,” I tell her.

Her eyes widen. “Oh God. Number one,” she confirms with Brody, her hand over her heart. “I’m a lady.”

I think I see him almost crack a smile, but he doesn’t. The three of us continue.

“Are the paps watching us right now?” Carlee asks.

“Yes,” Brody confirms. “They’re always watching Alexis.”

It sounds ominous when he says it.

Ten minutes later, I climb the steps of our stoop and open the main door. Carlee follows behind me.

“We can’t let him stay out here,” she says, glancing back at Brody, who looks like he’s guarding the building entrance. “It’s rude.”

“What do you want to do? Invite him in?”

“Where’s your Southern hospitality? You left that shit back in Texas?”

“He won’t come inside,” I say, turning for the stairwell. “Trust me.”

“You wanna bet?”

“Sure,” I tell her with a laugh. “Name your price.”

“A hundred.”

“Deal.”

I take the four flights of stairs to our apartment and shove the key into the hole, twisting the knob before entering.

The two boxes of items I had shipped here are stacked in the corner. I grab my suitcase and place my clean clothes inside, but I wait to zip it. In the tiny kitchen, I find my favorite coffee mug with the saying I’m not old, I’m a classic with a cherry-red 1970 Chevrolet Camaro Z28. A coffee ring circles the inside, and I scrub it out before setting it next to my books so I don’t forget it.

A minute later, Carlee walks in and rushes down the hallway to the bathroom, leaving the apartment door open. Before I can shut it, Brody enters. All six feet of him makes our place shrink—or at least, it seems that way.

“You cost me a hundred bucks,” I say, shaking my head.

“I’m aware.”

I hear the toilet flush, followed by the sink water running.

My mouth falls open. “You knew she bet me?”

“That’s why I’m here.” His brow arches.

I scoff. “You’re an asshole, just like Easton.”

He meets my eyes. “It runs in the family.”

“Wait, you’re related?”

He doesn’t answer.

My eyes scan over the tattoos on his arm and I spot a symbol I recognize with the words death before dishonor. He’s a Marine. That explains his demeanor.

Brody glances around the room. The space is Carlee’s—with a collage of framed photos on her living room wall, pink pillows on her green couch, a fridge that’s covered in word magnets, and souvenirs from different places she’s visited.

Carlee joins us, opens the fridge, and peers inside. “Want something to drink? A beer?”

“No thanks,” he says.

I shake my head at him.

When his phone rings, he fishes it from his pocket, answers with a, “Yes,” and walks out the door.

“You play dirty,” I tell her, shaking my head. “You told him about our bet.”

“You deserved it. Now, don’t let Mr. Billionaire make you forget who you are, babe. That’s all. Plus, Brody the Bodyguard is total eye candy.”

I remember what he said.

“It’s because they’re related,” I say.

“I can see that.”

She laughs and pours herself a glass of water. I open one of the boxes I had shipped here and look inside, trying to remember what I packed. Most of it is photos.

Carlee sets her glass on the counter. “Still can’t get over you two. Pretty sure you and Easton are proof that love still exists. Kinda gives me hope.”

Guilt floods through me; I know it’s all fake. Maybe my idea of love has always been fake. Maybe everyone is pretending, and this is as real as it will ever be.

“Thanks,” I offer, hoping this doesn’t get out of hand, but the avalanche has started. There’s no stopping it now. I realize that this could be the secret recipe for disaster.

She yawns. “Well, I guess I’m gonna take a nap before work. What time do you have to be ready to leave?”

I unlock my phone and glance at the time. “One hour.”

Carlee walks toward me and hugs me. “If you need anything, I’m always here, okay?”

“Same,” I tell her with a smile.

She moves to her room and the door closes.

It’s quiet, other than the faint sound of a horn honking in the distance. I realize I have questions I want answered, and there is one person here who can help.

I let out a sigh, taking the four flights of stairs to the ground floor and stepping outside. Brody is playing a game on his phone and looks up at me before returning to what he was doing.

“You said I was going to bust Easton’s balls.”

“You are.” He doesn’t look up.

“How are you related?” I ask.

“We’re cousins.”

“Oh,” I say. “The things you must’ve seen, being his bodyguard.”

He clears his throat. “Can we skip the small talk?”

“Rude.” I scoff. “How long have you worked for him?”

“Fifteen years.”

I glance away, focusing on the cloudless sky. The sunlight reflects through the trees, and I swallow down my nerves and ask what I want to know. “Is this typical day-nine behavior?”

Brody bursts into hearty laughter. “He actually told you?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing with you and Easton is typical.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “He’s never looked at anyone the way he looks at you. Ever.”

He’s being sincere, and I appreciate the honesty.

“Can you expand?” I ask.

“No.”

“Expected that,” I tell him. “If you wanna hang out, you can join us.”

“I’m okay, thanks.”

Then, I go upstairs and sit on the couch. The problem is, I don’t know Easton and sure as hell don’t know if his current behavior is normal or out of character. He could be reinventing himself before me and I wouldn’t know.

Are we really that good at convincing our close friends, or is there something there that neither of us sees? Because I’m starting to have an existential crisis, like Easton had. I lie back on the couch with my eyes closed, but my mind is reeling.

As I drift off, I receive a text, notifying me that my car will arrive in five minutes. I get up and knock on Carlee’s door. She opens it, her hair in a bun on top of her head. I give her a tight squeeze goodbye.

“How was your nap?”

“Short,” she says. “Promise me we’ll hang out soon.”

“I still owe you one. Brunch didn’t count.” I glance out her window, seeing the slick black limo roll to a stop in front of the apartment. “I gotta go.”

“Please don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t, I promise.” I grab what I can carry, then go downstairs.

Once I’m outside, the driver opens the door for me and Brody moves to the front passenger seat.

Once inside, I see a bouquet of white roses, a bottle of champagne, and chocolate-covered strawberries. There’s a handwritten note attached. I open it, giddy as fuck.

I meant it earlier when I said I missed you.

—E

The handwriting is neat, as if it were its own font. I read over it several times and press my fingers against the smile on my lips before I take a ragged breath.

He’ll break me. He’s going to do it.

I swallow hard, pouring myself a glass of champagne, trying to stop the butterflies from fluttering. This is bad. Very fucking bad.

Forty minutes later, we arrive at the diamond in the sky, and Nash opens the door for me with a smile. “Have a great day, miss.”

“Thanks. You too.” I nod, staring up at the luxury high-rise I will now call home. I’m thankful for the champagne because I needed to relax.

As soon as I enter, I’m greeted by security.

“Ms. Matthews,” the guard says, and a woman wearing a pantsuit approaches me.

“Hi, Lexi. I’m the building manager, Stella. I was asked to give you access to Mr. Calloway’s assets.”

“Yes,” I tell her, following her into an office. Ten minutes later, I’ve got cards, keycodes, my face and fingerprint scanned, and an app on my phone to allow me in and out of the building at any time. The only thing I didn’t give her was a blood sample and the promise of my firstborn.

I offer a thank-you and make my way to the elevator. Once inside, I scan the reader and push the button for the top floor. The elevator bolts upward and my nerves fully take over.

When the doors slide open, I hesitate before stepping out. I don’t know why I tense—maybe because none of this feels real or it’s too good to be true.

I glance into the reflection of the shiny wall and get nothing more than a disoriented funhouse version of myself. The mirrors lining the ceiling show me how I really look. I’m not even trying to impress him, not in these ripped jeans and a snarky theater T-shirt.

There will be pictures of me floating around the Internet, wearing this. I have to start trying because these images might haunt me forever.

With my head high, I adjust the tote on my shoulder.

I pause to peek at the people in the park before moving toward the door. Instead of knocking, I place my thumb on the keypad, wondering if it will work.

It unlocks and I reach forward, twisting the knob with a racing heart. When I walk in, I expect to find him alone. But he’s not.

On his lap is a dark-haired, blue-eyed little boy.

“Oh my God,” I whisper, “You have a kid.”