Head Over Feels

“I want to. I like to keep things in the family. That’s why I asked you to represent me. You can run interference with the press. You can’t break client privilege, and since you’re dating Marlow, they won’t drag her into the media this time. It’s a brilliant plan.”

And here I thought Marlow was the mastermind behind tonight’s dinner. I think she did as well, but Bob’s outplayed us both. It actually is a brilliant plan. I don’t know whether to be impressed or worried.

He takes a long pull of his scotch, and then adds, “My baby girl snagging a prestigious East Coast bachelor, a Wellington, at that, will bring plenty of good PR. And you won my daughter’s heart, so everyone wins.”

Everyone does not win, namely me.

Two things:

Firstly—Why the fuck would he assume Marlow and I are dating?

Secondly—Tealey will be pleased to know that I figured out what snagging entails.

I start, “I didn’t snag—”

Her index finger swings in her father’s direction. “Back up. You retained Rad because you thought we were together?”

“Yes, and because he’s good at what he does.”

Shooting me a hard glare, she says, “I wasn’t told.”

“I—”

“Shh!” Holding her finger straight up, she stares at me, and then she bites her lip, her expression morphing from anger to . . . oh shit. As the puzzle pieces fall into place, I realize she’s already two steps ahead. “Weren’t you trying to make partner?”

Am I about to be blackmailed into marrying Marlow?

What the fuck?

My swallow is as deep as the Grand Canyon. “I am.”

“So, winning a high-profile client’s case would help you achieve that?”

“There’s no guarantee.”

“You’re under oath. Is that a yes or no?”

“I’m not under oath, but yes, it would help.”

A smile that could win the title of Miss America settles across her face. “I’d call that a triple win then.”

My phone buzzes on the seat beside me. When I glance down, Jackson’s sent the latest score. Not only have I lost all logic when it comes to this asinine idea but I’m also about to lose one thousand dollars.

At this point, I’m certain my eyebrows have become one with my hairline. There aren’t enough hours tonight to wade through this absurd scheme, but no way am I just agreeing to please them.

They have some solid points, but I need to get out from under this Marché madness, find fresh air, and clear my head.

There must be a solution that serves us better than lying to the world and each other to get what we each want.

And I’d really like to know why Bob Marché thinks I’m dating his daughter. Because that is utterly crazy.

Kill me now.

6

Rad

“No.” I storm down the sidewalk in front of the steakhouse, pacing as my mind tries to process this mess. The clicking of Marlow’s heels has haunted me on each pass, except this one. I stop and turn back. Crossing my arms over my chest, I take a stance. “Absolutely not. This is bordering on unethical.”

“It’s not unethical, Rad.” She smiles, tilting her head. “It’s a favor for a friend, at best.”

“At worst, it’s fucking with my job.” Her dad left already, leaving us standing here to sort this disaster out. Pointing toward the restaurant, I add, “Your dad admitted he only hired me because he thought we were together. Why would he think that?”

“I don’t know.” Crossing her arms, she matches my stance, facing me head-on. Marlow’s never been the damsel in distress. “I’m telling you the truth. I’ve never said or insinuated anything was going on between us. I really don’t know why he’d assume that.”

“Me being the one sitting by your side at dinner doesn’t help quell any assumptions.”

Marlow cringes. “I understand why you’re mad. Mad Rad.” Her slip of a smile eases the edges of irritation. “Look, we can both benefit from this plan. If we just pretend for him, for just a little while, I get an apartment—an investment in New York real estate, which is priceless. And you look good to your bosses, getting you one step closer to that partnership.”

“Bob gets the cover of attorney-client privilege by working with me, and you’re protected from the paparazzi until the case is settled. And then what?”

“And then some celebrity will screw up and grab the headlines back.”

Somehow, this farce started to make sense while we ate our three-course meal. But now, back in reality, not so much. So why am I considering going along with it? She assumes it will all go as planned, but it has the potential to go bad.

What if the gang finds out? What do we say? Maybe we should tell them and be up front. Once we start this, how do we end it? And more importantly, how will this affect my new situation with Tealey?

I roll my neck to the side and then the other to release the tightness of my muscles.