“Not at all,” I laugh. She gets out of the pool and I follow her. The night air is cool, but Sheldon prepared for this. “Here, let me help you,” I say before she starts shivering.
She lets me wrap her in a warm plush robe, and I guide her to the table with champagne, which also happens to be beneath a toasty heat lamp. “Would you like to sit down?”
Once Andrew brings the legal papers, she can sign and we can move on. And I can call my dead father’s bluff and shock the hell out of my brothers by taking over Croft International despite being the youngest son.
Addison sits down and wraps the robe tight around her. Too bad, I think, but then she crosses her leg and part of it falls away, exposing killer thighs.
Just then Andrew arrives. I can tell he’s annoyed to be here this late, but he knows better than to say anything about the hoops I make him jump through.
He’s well compensated for his trouble.
“Thanks, Andrew,” I say once he sets the papers down on the table.
“Sir,” he responds. “I’ll be inside once they’re signed. Please let me know if there’s any questions.” He turns to leave.
“Okay,” I say, clapping my hands together. “It’s pretty standard stuff. Prenuptial as well as a nondisclosure agreement. Feel free to read through it but it’s quite basic. You can ask Andrew if you have any questions.”
Addison’s eyes dart between the papers and me. I push the papers a little closer—she looks as if she’s afraid they might bite.
“Um, I don’t mean to be rude,” she says, “but what the hell is this?”
Part of me deflates—I should have known she was too good to be true. Another part of me flares up with anger—why did she waste my time by coming here if she didn’t already agree to all this?
Trying to salvage the moment, I stay calm and pleasant. “Take your time. No pressure. Andrew can wait. Read through it all. It’s boring legalese but it is standard.”
Addison stands up and says, “I’m not signing anything. And I’m pretty sure there’s been a huge misunderstanding.”
Suddenly I realize that this girl actually isn’t what I asked for at all.
Damien fucked up. And now I’m pissed off.
Addison
My heart is racing and I’m wondering what in the world I got myself into.
When I got here I decided I’d relax and just hang out with this guy, play the role of a sweet, easygoing girl. Seeing him in the pool, and how unbelievably hot he is, all I could think was, What’s there to lose?
Now I realize: my dignity.
What is he playing at? What is this contract business?
“What’s the problem?” Rex asks me, and I feel like there’s a hint of annoyance in his voice.
“The problem,” I say slowly, “is that I’m just here for the evening to hang out.”
“Listen, I don’t need a prostitute.”
It’s like I’ve been slapped. “Good for you because I’m not a freaking prostitute.” I knew I shouldn’t have come here. What a raging idiot I am to have done this in the first place. “Look, there’s obviously been a big mistake here.”
“Clearly,” he says. “So what the hell are you doing here?”
“I don’t know!” I say, my face hot, cheeks burning.
I’m so confused by what’s happening that I can’t fully comprehend it all. All that time in the pool, could he have been serious about having a church booked and the private island ready to go?
Glancing at the contracts on the table in front of me, I think he is serious. Or insane.
Maybe both.
All I know is that I have to get out of here. I get up and go to get my clothes.
“Slow down,” Rex says, his tone softening. “Hang on, let’s figure this out.”
“There’s nothing to figure out and there’s no piece of paper you can hand me that I will sign,” I say, scooping up my skirt and top and hooking the strap of my heels over my finger. I march inside the house, which is now dimly lit and quiet as can be and try to retrace my steps down to the front door.
Where did I put my keys?
“Addison,” Rex says. “I want to figure out what happened.”
I stop and turn to him.
He seems genuinely confused and I am a little curious myself about why he was under the impression that I came her to sign my life away.
It’s funny, but in a strange way, from the second I saw Rex, I felt a real connection between us. Maybe it’s my method acting, but I was actually starting to enjoy myself until he brought those contracts out.
The fact that Rex is standing before me in only swim trunks, still dripping wet from the pool, doesn’t hurt. This guy’s body is ridiculous, totally ripped. No way could someone this hot go for someone like me.
“Tell me who sent you here,” he asks, his voice calm.
“A producer named Damien,” I say.
“Right, Damien,” he says. “So…?”
I take a breath and explain. “I had an audition this morning and Damien was one of the producers. I didn’t get it. But he caught up with me outside and mentioned this whole thing called Stand-In Girlfriend. I only did it as sort of a joke but also because I really need the money. I can see now that it’s a huge mistake so…I’ll just get going.”
I turn to leave once again, and Rex reaches for me. His hand stops just short of touching my arm, like he doesn’t want to spook me anymore by touching me. Or maybe he’s just repulsed by me.
“Wait,” he says softly. “Keep going.”
“I didn’t mean to lead you on or anything,” I say, turning toward him. “Damien said it was just for the evening, like a date. I thought we would just go to dinner or something. I didn’t intend to have sex or doing anything more than just hanging out. Damien told me it was just for some light companionship and nothing more.”
Rex shakes his head. It’s full of curls, pushed back off his forehead, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think we were in some kind of shampoo commercial.
“Damien screwed both of us.” Rex says the producer’s name like a curse word. “I had an agreement with the agency for The Wife Experience. I’m looking for a woman to marry. Not hang out with. I’ve done plenty of that,” he adds, muttering.
I’m completely shocked on a number of levels. That he thought he could call up an agency, who would then send over a woman he could marry is totally ludicrous.
Why would he even want that?
“I’m don't get it,” I say. “You’re a rich, really good-looking guy. Why do you need some agency to send you a wife? Why do you even want to get married?”
“I don’t want to get married. I need to. It’s a business arrangement,” he says. “Nothing more. All marriages are.”
“No they’re not,” I reply, offended by his statement.
He tilts his head slightly, looking at me closely. “Addison, this…position pays very well. You’d be crazy not to consider it.”
“To consider marrying you? For money?” I have to laugh at the absurdity of it.