Publicity. He really had all of this worked out. And her parents. God. What would her parents say when she announced she was engaged to Satan Crane? Especially since she couldn’t tell them the truth. Her hands were again wrapped around her mug, but despite the warmth from the cup, a chill swept through her. Was she actually considering this?
She thought of her parents and how much they loved the Van Heusen. She thought of herself and how she’d grown up in this cherished building. She thought of Arnold out front, who loved coming to work each day.
She didn’t want to work anywhere else, let alone for one of Crane’s übermodern hotels. And after they parted ways, she’d own the Van Heusen. As offers went, they didn’t come packaged prettier.
Still, what Crane was proposing—as he’d put it, a literal proposal—was preposterous.
“It has to appear real, so I’ve handed the details over to my PR specialist,” he said. “I’ve spoken with her about it already. A few public appearances and you’ll move into my Lake Shore Drive mansion. She assures me she can easily spin this as a whirlwind romance to the press.”
Her mouth fell open.
He met her expression with a dubious one of his own. “I know. Whirlwind romance. Ridiculous.” He pulled in a deep breath, one that expanded his chest, and checked the face of his watch. Why, she didn’t know. It was two in the morning. Where else could he possibly have to be? Unless she was one in a line of many women to whom he was making this offer. It alarmed her how not surprising that idea was.
“Call whomever you’re dating and let him down easy. We don’t need him using your breakup as media fodder. Since the timeline is tight, I’ll need to know your answer by the end of the week. Six months, Merina, and you’ll get everything you want.”
He said her name with warmth, his tone rough and soft at the same time. She met his eyes. Navy. The inside of her sank even as her heart kicked against her rib cage. It was everything she wanted. Her future and her past in her control.
“If you and whoever you’re seeing are meant to be,” he said, the warmth vanishing from his voice, “I’m sure he’ll take you back when you and I don’t work out.”
“I’m not seeing anyone.” Unable to sit any longer, she rose from the table, her hands flattening on the surface. His eyes went to her shirt like they did the day she stomped into his hotel. He really had a boob fetish, didn’t he?
Slowly, he raised his eyes to her face. “That makes this easier, then.”
Easier. Sure. Just allow herself to be bought off by the misogynistic billionaire who was trying to control every particle of her life for six months. Just marry him. Easy-peasy.
“I…I can’t do this right now.” That was the most honest thing she’d said since he arrived. She couldn’t categorize what he was asking. She couldn’t fathom it. She couldn’t picture it. Her dating Reese was outrageous. Her living with him? Insane. But marriage…God. He was crazy.
“I understand.” Unaffected by her reaction, Reese stood with her. “You have my private cell now. Call that number and let me know your decision by Friday.” With a curt nod, he turned and started out of the dining room.
“I have until Friday?” she couldn’t help asking.
“Yes.” He plunged his hands into his pockets and waited for her to say more. So she did.
“You booked everything already?”
“Yes.” He canted his head to one side and regarded her. He looked handsome and she tried to see him differently than she had when he’d walked in. As a husband. A man she would live with. The man she would hold hands with and kiss in public for the world to see. It was like she’d fallen down the rabbit hole and was having tea with the Mad Hatter.
Reese started for the exit.
“And if I say no,” she called after him, her voice hollow, “do you have a plan B?”
This earned her a slight smile over his shoulder, the edges of his lips tipping. “Believe it or not, my list of potential brides with real estate I can hold over their heads is relatively short. I’ve thought this through. It’s the best course of action for both of us.”
He turned on the heel of his expensive leather shoes and exited the Van Heusen, leaving Merina with a million thoughts—one of which she really shouldn’t entertain.
She looked into her tepid tea, decided it wasn’t strong enough, and went behind the bar for a shot of the scotch she’d refused to serve him.
Chapter 4
You threw Reese Crane’s thousand-dollar suit jacket into a mud puddle? That’s brilliant.” Lorelei’s deep brown eyes crinkled around the edges and she threw her head back and laughed.
“I don’t know how brilliant it was since I walked back freezing and soaked to the bone.” Merina yawned, then drank the coffee she needed more than her next breath. It’d been a sleepless, stressful couple of nights. On a good night, she slept a few hours. This week she was lucky if she’d accumulated a few hours’ sleep since Monday.
Lorelei swiped moisture from her inky lashes—and not inky because they were coated in mascara. Inky because they were naturally coal black, like her smoothed-to-perfection shoulder-length hair.
“You look amazing,” Merina blurted. Because her best friend did, in fact, look amazing. Her cocoa skin was glowing, her cheeks highlighted with a dab of bronzer, her eyes bright and sparkling. Merina, on the other hand, looked like a hobo brought in to be given a hot meal. “Oh my God,” she said, her lazy synapses finally firing. “Did you get laid last night? Are you and Malcolm back togeth—”
“What? No! Neither of those things.” Lorelei turned her chin down to examine the printed papers in front of her. “And we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you, future Mrs. Crane.”
Since Merina’s parents were at the hotel, she’d taken advantage of the rare bit of privacy at home to have Lorelei over. They sat at the breakfast nook, baked-from-a-box blueberry muffins on a plate between them. Merina had filled Lorelei in on the phone at six this morning, which was about two minutes after Reese e-mailed her a prenuptial agreement, from his personal e-mail no less, that stated, Need your answer by tomorrow. This is a draft and not finalized.
“Romantic, right?” Merina grumbled into her coffee.
The night he’d stopped by the VH, she’d slept fitfully, grabbing twenty minutes here, five minutes there. She’d stumbled through the next few days on autopilot trying to figure out a way around what Reese was asking. He’d told her she couldn’t tell anyone, but the prenup’s arrival in her inbox required a lawyer’s expertise. Her lawyer also happened to be her very best friend. She’d debated for about thirty seconds before giving in and calling her lawyer bestie.
Lorelei had promised to read over the document and arrive at Merina’s house within the hour. Now she flipped through the pages casually while Merina waited and watched her facial expressions for any clue as to what she might say.
“So?” Merina prompted. “How badly am I getting screwed here?” Obviously, Reese Crane had more to gain or he never would have come up with the plan. There was something she wasn’t seeing; she was sure of it.