Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
This is getting out of hand. A fake engagement is one thing, but a wedding? I don’t know how much longer I can keep up this charade without losing my grip on reality. And I feel like Nancy Sinclair is testing us. Like if we don’t go through with the wedding this weekend, she’ll call the whole thing false. Am I too paranoid? I mean, she can’t honestly expect me to get married to somebody this weekend. Every girl deserves the wedding of their dreams, not some mashup wedding thrown together in twenty-four hours.
She’s ridiculous.
The sound of footsteps behind me pulls me out of my thoughts. I turn to see Asher standing there, his expression unreadable.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice low.
I nod, even though it’s a lie. “I just needed some air.”
He steps closer, his eyes searching mine. “Nancy’s idea threw you, huh?”
“That’s an understatement,” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest. “A wedding, Asher. This weekend. What are we supposed to do with that?”
“We handle it,” he says simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
I laugh bitterly. “Handle it? How? By walking down the aisle in front of all these people and pretending it’s real?”
“If it comes to that,” he says, his tone calm but firm. “But it won’t. I’ll make sure of it.”
I look at him, really look at him, and for a moment, the frustration fades. He’s solid, steady, and for some inexplicable reason, I feel like I can trust him.
“Thanks,” I say softly.
He nods, his lips curving into a faint smile. “You don’t have to do this alone, Charlotte. I’ve got your back.”
And somehow, despite the chaos of the night, those words are exactly what I need to hear.
After we say good night to everyone, we make our way back upstairs. Together. Hand-in-hand. It’s comforting to have somebody to hold onto.
Once we enter our suite, I exhale.
“Do you think Nancy is on to us?”
Asher stares at me for a long beat before answering, “I don’t think she is. I think she’s just trying to push to cause a ripple in our relationship. Most men panic before a wedding.”
I smile, thinking that could absolutely be the reason why she’s suggesting the idea of the wedding. “That makes sense.” I raise a brow. “Most men?” I giggle lightly.
“Not me of course.” He sits on the bed, loosening his tie. “I wouldn’t ask a woman to marry me if I thought for any second I could be spooked.”
I nod, removing my earrings and setting them on the dresser. “Do you have anyone you're currently seeing?” it never even dawned on me that Asher has a life outside of his work. He could be happily married, and this is only an assignment for him.
My stomach drops as I wait for his answer.
He removes his tie, shaking his head. His eyes slam into mine. “Haven’t met anyone that I could see myself going all the way with.”
I release a breath, and try to pretend that his answer didn’t just affect me the way it did.
He stands from the bed, stalking across the room until he’s standing right in front of me. He lifts his hand, sweeping a strand of hair from my face and brushing it behind my ear. “I would have never taken this assignment if I was in a committed relationship. It would be cheating, and I’d never do that.”
I gaze into his eyes, blinking, my heart racing. “Oh,” I whisper, my mind wandering back to the moment he kissed me before dinner.
I want him to kiss me again.
He keeps his hand close to my face, brushing his thumb along my jaw. “It wouldn’t be fair to her,” he says, and I’ve already forgotten what we were talking about.
And then my mind catches up. Her. Another woman that’ll end up with Asher. Because of course there isn’t a world where we end up together.
This is only an assignment. It’s his job. And when it’s all over, he’ll go back to his regular life. He’ll meet a lucky woman, and marry her. Jealousy rages through me, and I step back.
“Right,” I snap out. “I should take a shower.” I quickly move away from him and grab my toiletry bag.
Once I’m in the safety of the bathroom, I let out a small huff. I already hate this fictional woman who I haven’t even met. Who Asher hasn’t even met. I hate her. I hate her so much.
And I close my eyes, imagining I could be that woman.
11
Asher
Dawn stains the resort in grayscale: mist on the ornamental pond, long knife-shadows under topiary cedars, dew glittering on mosaic tiles. Perfect hour for a clandestine call—most guests are still comatose, the staff change-over is just starting, and cameras frame nothing but rabbits and sprinklers. I ghost down the gravel service path, counting blind spots, until I’m behind a lattice of climbing jasmine that screens the garden from the breakfast terrace.