Page 49 of Reputation (Tempt)
“Ten,” I blurted, just so he’d realize how completely ridiculous this entire conversation was.
I finished dressing and turned back to face him. He considered it a moment then shrugged. “Fine. Ten.”
“What?” I sputtered. He couldn’t possibly be serious. “I was joking.”Not negotiating.
“You heard me,” he said, his voice gravelly.
I blinked a few times. It wasn’t every day I was offered ten million dollars to be fake-engaged to a famous actor. To Nate Crawford, of all people. The seventeen-year-old girl inside me was freaking out. But the twenty-nine-year-old knew better.
For the first few months I’d worked for him, Nate had seemed to despise me. He’d barely tolerated me, and it was mostly for the sake of his daughter. Yes, our relationship was a million times better now. And we definitely had chemistry. But still…
“You vowed never to marry again.”
He arched an eyebrow, cocky smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. “Someone’s been reading up on me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Everyone knows that.”
“True. After what my ex did, I don’t want to get married again. But the way you love and care for Brooklyn, well, that would go a long way to making everyone believe I’d changed my mind. Obviously, we’d both know this is a business arrangement. Nothing more.”
“One hell of a business arrangement,” I muttered, thinking he might be better off getting engaged for real.
“It’d be cheaper than giving Trinity what she really wants.” I was still processing that statement when he said, “You can still help out with Brooklyn, if you want. Or I’ll hire a new nanny so you can focus on your training or your clothing line or whatever. And—” His eyes were wild yet calculating. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once. “I’ll cover any expenses that arise in the course of being my fiancée. A stylist. Designer gowns. Personal…care.”
What he was offering was staggering. A real-life Cinderella story. But I shook my head.No.I was done entertaining this idea. “It feels…wrong.” Especially when I thought of what it would mean to Brooklyn.
“People do it all the time.”
“Right,” I scoffed. “So that makes it okay? Where’s my damn phone?” I muttered, stomping back to the bathroom.
“You can have it back after we finish discussing this.”
I turned slowly, my jaw dropping as anger rippled through me. “Wait. You knew where it was all along?”
He had the decency to look chagrined.
I stepped closer, and to his credit, he held firm. “You knew, and you didn’t say anything?” I seethed.
“Yes, but?—”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I want my phone.Now.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll give it back.” When I glared at him, he added, “I will. I just wanted to be able to talk to you first. To explain.”
I held out my hand expectantly. “Give it.”
“Afteryou’ve made your decision. I don’t want other people’s opinions clouding your judgment.”
Oof.Had he been talking to my dad? Or was I truly that transparent?
“Nate.” My voice was deadly. “Give. Me. The. Phone.”
“Trust me, you’re better off not looking.”
“I swear to god—” I marched over to him. “If you don’t give me my phone in the next ten seconds, I’m going to march out front and tell all the paparazzi likely camped there the truth.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Watch me.” I turned for the door, but he grabbed my wrist before I got very far. My skin burned from the contact, the heat of his touch singeing me despite my ire.