Dirty Deal (Dirty Rich 1)

"You're a waitress. He's loaded. It doesn't take a genius to figure out he's got meal ticket written on his forehead."

"It isn't like that. I love Blake." God, this is a terrible confession of passion. I force a smile. I think of the things that make my heart race. The accident. The skyline against the sunset. The spring's first flowers. "He… he's not like anyone I've ever met. He makes me feel safe. He makes my knees weak. He's…"

She snaps her purse shut. "I hope you are telling the truth. For your sake. Because if you're not… you're going to regret using him. I'll make sure of it."

"I appreciate that you're looking out for him." Really, it's sweet. Even if it's at my expense. "I hope you enjoy your night." I drop my lipstick in my purse and I saunter out of the bathroom.

Conversation whirls around me. It's loud.

Everyone is looking at me the same way Fiona was.

What's he doing with her?

And what's she doing with him?

Someone that young—she's looking for a meal ticket? Just look at her dress.

You think she's a hooker?

Okay, I'm imagining things. I think.

It's funny. I never thought people would be looking at me thinking I was too pretty to be with someone.

It's almost nice.

But Blake isn't after my looks.

He's after my—

No, he's not after anything.

This is all bullshit.

I find a waiter and grab another flute of champagne. The bubbles burst on my tongue. They lift me higher. They make the room effervescent.

Now where is my adoring boyfriend?

He's not in the corner where he was earlier. Neither is Meryl.

I wander around the party, looking for him. But I don't see him anywhere.

Oh. There's a quiet balcony up ahead. That's perfect.

Someone steps into my path. Declan, Blake's old friend.

"Hey, Kat. Blake is about to give his speech."

"I'm just going to get some air," I say.

He pats my shoulder. "Nonsense." He leans in close and whispers, "I have it on good authority that he mentions you in it."

Oh.

We're moving up the timeline.

That must mean…

I swallow hard. "Of course."

I follow him into the main room. Grab another glass of champagne and drink quickly.

This is too fast.

I'm not ready to be a fiancée.

Declan pats me on the back. He nods to a small stage. Blake is standing there. He's holding up his own glass of champagne like he's about to give a toast.

He scans the crowd. His eyes rest on mine. They fill up with love.

Like this is real.

His smile spreads over his cheeks.

That's how I know it's fake.

Blake doesn't smile.

I press my nail into my palm.

He doesn't love you.

He'll never love you.

This is all pretend.

"I know we're all very excited about the new Photos feature. I'd love to praise the dev team—you're all fantastic—but this is a party." He lifts his glass. "Let's skip to something interesting."

Everyone laughs. And lifts their glasses.

Blake finishes his in one long sip. It's not like him. Not like the Blake I know.

He wipes sweat from his brow.

That isn't like him either.

Blake doesn't get nervous.

His eyes meet mine. They fill up with something, something real.

The flutter in my stomach builds.

Lightness spreads through my fingers and toes.

I forget everything but those deep blue eyes of his.

"My priorities are different nowadays." He steps off the stage. "There's something, no, someone I love more than Sterling Tech."

The crowd parts until it's a straight shot between Blake and me. Good thing his mic is cordless, because I can't move a muscle.

He walks to me slowly.

He hands off his champagne glass.

The expression in his eyes is pure love.

I believe him.

I believe everything.

He takes my hand and strokes my fingers. "Kat, I love you more than I've ever loved anyone."

My stomach flutters.

This is pretend.

But my body can't grasp that.

My body is on fire. It's demanding him. Not just the heat of his touch, but the softness of his embrace.

"You make the happiest man alive." He drops to one knee.

I force my lips into a smile.

Blake pulls a ring box out of his pocket. "Will you marry me?"

It's a solitaire on a platinum band. Four carats, five maybe. Sleek, like everything else he owns.

The room goes quiet. Every ounce of attention is on us. I catch glances from his mother. Her mouth is hanging open, but there's no mistaking the joy on her face.

I go for a big smile. I throw my hands over my mouth like I can't believe my luck. "Of course."

His eyes stay glued to mine. He slides the engagement ring over my finger and rises to his feet.

Blake leans into a kiss. Our lips meet and fireworks explode inside my body. But it's fake. Everything but the ring is fake.

I'm engaged to Blake Sterling.

This is either the best decision I've ever made or the biggest mistake of my life.

Chapter 11

Lights flash. Cell phone cameras click. An actual shutter closes and opens.

We're a spectacle.

Of course we're a spectacle. A public proposal is always an event.

Blake is already at my side, his arm around my waist, his expression cool and aloof. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was a robot with only one programmed facial expression.

He's not. There's more to him, other shades. I've only seen them briefly, but I'm as sure of them as I am of anything.

Blake waves at the crowd. "If you'll excuse me, my fiancée and I would like to be alone. To celebrate."

Some people laugh. A few cheer. Everyone knows celebrate is code for have crazy, hot, we-just-got-engaged sex.

It's romantic. We're committing to forever. We're promising to proclaim our love in front of everyone. It's beautiful.

Except it's bullshit.

I force my lips into a smile. I force my gaze to my ring. It catches every bit of light in the room. It mocks my decision to choose money over integrity. Over honesty and love and affection.

I don't believe in karma, not usually, but I can't fight the sense I'm sealing my fate.

I'm mocking love. I'm mocking marriage. I'm mocking lifelong commitment.

My parents loved each other. Even after twenty years of marriage, they were madly in love. They still smiled and giggled like teenagers.

They even died together.

It was better that way. For them. They would have been lost without each other.

But for me…

It's been three years since the accident that killed my parents and left Lizzy in critical condition for weeks. I've been holding things together for three years, and I've never really found my footing. Everything is too expensive. And there's never enough time.

I need Blake's money. I know that.

But this gorgeous, expensive, showy ring makes me want to hurl.

It's the most beautiful horrible thing I've ever seen.

Blake's grip around my waist tightens. It's a little possessive, sure, but that part is for show.

I think.

The crowd parts for us. No, it's parting for Blake. He has that effect on people. They bend to his will.

Cool air hits my face as Blake pushes the doors open.

I lean into Blake's touch.

I soak up all his warmth.

And I hate that too.

My gesture is a lie.

I force my gaze away from the ring. We're at some fancy hotel uptown. The streets are quiet. The limo is parked at the curb. And, the

re, in front of it, are bare trees. But there are tiny white buds on the tree at the end of the street.

It's a cherry tree. It's almost the season.

Blake opens the limo door for me and helps me inside. Then he's on the opposite bench. He pulls the door closed. It shuts out the sounds of the party.

Soft white lights glow. This really is a beautiful limo. Sleek. Like all his possessions.

Like the ring.

Like me. I'm close enough to something he owns. A woman under contract. He doesn't strike me as the type who would think of his wife as his property, but you never really know. Rich people are awfully entitled. The men especially.

I sink into my seat. The leather is freezing against my exposed skin. The entire world feels freezing. Like there isn't a shred of love or warmth left.

"Kat."

He's just as cool as the leather. As the air. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I smooth my dress. Cross my legs. Try to look at anything besides the ring.

"Something." His voice is sincere.

Does it really bother Blake that I'm upset? He got what he wanted. This is all what he wants.

He takes a seat next to me. Presses his thigh against mine.

He leans in to whisper. "Tell me."

His breath warms my skin. It's the only warm thing in the universe. I can focus on how much I want him, how much my body demands his.

That's real.