Yeah, I bet.
“...but I’d really like to be your fake best man. And throw you one hell of a fake bachelor party.”
Nick smiled and peered at me. “What do you think?”
“Sure. I couldn’t ask for a better best man, and I completely trust you at the bachelor party.”
He spun me around. “You’re the best fake fiancé ever!”
Chapter 20
THE DAY AFTER OUR GREAT aerial escape from the boat, we received a letter at the lake house from Nick’s father. Mitchell might have respected Nick’s alpine sanctuary enough not to trespass there himself, but he had no problem whatsoever sending other people to do his dirty work.
The envelope was pressed with a wax seal. Ferdie presented it with great dignity, and James ripped it open with a scowl. The message was clear.
He would tolerate our little stunt without retribution, but for the next three months, the two of us were to be the perfect couple. No slip-ups. No complaints. No helicopter rides to freedom. If we failed to do so...he didn’t have to write the rest.
It might have sounded like a severe response to an otherwise light-hearted prank, but after the little talk Nick and I had up in the bedroom, I honestly couldn’t think of a more delightful punishment. He wanted us to be the perfect couple?
Well for the next three months, that’s exactly what we did.
We went to all the right social gatherings. From charities, to art openings, to a bachelor auction (that one was funny, let me tell you), right down to an impromptu weekend in Rome about which Nick had personally written to his father to ask for permission to surprise me.
The press was having a field day. There was never a day when Ameri
ca’s Sweethearts didn’t give them something to write about. Whether it was a stroll through Central Park, or a surprise late-night movie, or simply strategic kisses from atop Nick’s magnificent balcony.
There was enough on hard copy to paper the streets of the city, and even with my team working round the clock, there was always more to do.
In essence, we had held up our end of the bargain to perfect completion. But we didn’t only live our lives for the camera. Our actual relationship had been blossoming as well.
Despite my strong resistance, Nick had finally broken me down and convinced me to go out jogging. It helped considerably that he compromised by leaving three hours later than usual, so that I didn’t have to get up at the crack of dawn.
What had started as an exercise in athletic cruelty, actually developed into a rather baffling passion—given my staunch hatred of working-out. That endorphin rush soon proved to be addictive, and it wasn’t long before I was the one waking him up—bouncing up and down on the mattress until he opened his eyes and put on his shoes.
We had officially ‘moved in.’ My furniture had been rescued from storage, and was tastefully mixed in with his own. I had taken over half the closet. Over half the bathroom shelving. My shampoos and hair products lined the counter by the sink. While some men might have been annoyed by this, Nick just looked on with a sweet kind of amusement. Despite how many women he’d been though over the years, he’d never let any of them move in. He’d never had to share space. He found it a rather adorable thing to be doing now.
We had adopted a plant (which later died). We had survived a tragically one-sided flu, that left me kneeling on the floor of the bathroom each morning, while Nick was perfectly fine. We had even gone for a fake cake tasting to select one for the fake wedding—a wedding that Mitchell had agreed to let us postpone, by the way (another way of saying: just date for three months then you’re forever off the hook).
So no matter how the odd circumstances had come about, I could honestly say that for the last three months, I had never been happier. Nick had never been happier. We may have accidentally stumbled into something amazing here. Something none of us could have expected.
Thus—it was with a huge smile that I woke up beside him twelve weeks later.
It was the day of the grand merger. The day that our strings were to be cut forever, and we would finally be able to proceed forward how we wished. It was freedom incarnate.
Mitchell had promised that when we arrived home from the party that evening, an envelope would be waiting at the front desk. An envelope containing the flash drive, along with any and all copies he might have made. While a normal person might have questioned the legitimacy of this arrangement, Nick and I knew better. As ironic as it seemed, there were some things at which Mitchell could be unquestionably trusted.
Bargains were one of them. It was the way he’d risen to the top of the Manhattan food chain. If that man made a deal—he was going to honor it. No matter what the fall-out. No matter what the circumstances. We had upheld our end of the agreement—he would uphold his own.
I rolled over onto my side, and gazed out at the sleeping Adonis beside me. Nick and I had been up most the night ‘pre-celebrating’ our impending freedom. Needless to say, the morning run was forgotten, and he was likely to be out for hours.
...or not.
A mischievous grin crept up my face, as I slowly crawled on top of him. He adjusted in his sleep—wrapping an arm around me—but didn’t wake.
More convincing was in order.
While keeping my eyes locked on his face, I began trailing feather-light kisses down the smooth skin on his chest. Following those muscular curves all the way down to his stomach.