Even in the dim illumination from the streetlights streaking by, I swear he goes paler. “I suppose we should get that postnup drawn up soon.”
“Mm-hmm. Better call your solicitor in the morning and hope I don’t disappear in the night.”
I can practically see him making himself a mental note, and I stifle a snicker, delighting in toying with him. But then the worry clears from his face and he angles himself toward me, his eyes falling to my hands in my lap.
“I need to get you a ring.”
I look down at my left hand, still not quite used to seeing it bare. Embarrassingly, I have a slight tan line from where my last engagement ring used to sit. I guess I wouldn’t mind having a new one to cover it up. But something about slipping another ring onto my finger when I just managed to take off the last one has my stomach in knots.
“I’ll leave that up to you,” I tell him, not wanting to think about the ring sitting in a drawer in the home I was supposed to share with Étienne. “Just get me whatever and something for yourself that matches.”
He seems thrown by my request, eyes flicking over me. He probably can’t believe the woman wearing hand-picked jewels and a designer gown wouldn’t care about a ring she’ll have to wear with every outfit. But this isn’t a real marriage, and even if I hate what he picks out, I’ll only have to tolerate it for a year. Why get invested when I’m just going to give it back? I’ve already made that mistake once.
Eventually, he nods and moves us on to the next topic. “When do we want to go public as a couple?”
“Haven’t we already?” I ask dryly.
“Against our will. I meant more along the lines of when dowewant to announce to the world that we’re together?”
I bite the inside of my cheek, some of that dizzy anxiety returning. “I don’t know. Do you have any ideas?”
“Remember when I told you I have to be here for work?” He flashes me a crooked smile, but I do recall that detail. “We could make our debut at the Grand Prix. Would you be up for that?”
Ah yes, that’s right, I’m married to a Formula 1 driver. I don’t know exactly what a grand prix entails, but I get the feeling it’s a big televised deal.
“It does seem like the perfect opportunity,” I say, contemplating the idea, but it also sounds like an opportunity for things to go terribly wrong and the whole world to witness it.
“We don’t have to,” Thomas says, sensing my hesitation. “There’s still time to back out of this.”
There is, and I could. My parents wouldn’t like finding out that I lied to them, but I’d be able to tell the truth. They’re the least of my worries, though. My board of directors and my tattered reputation have to take precedence here. And I wouldn’t hate rubbing my new relationship in Étienne’s face either…
I glance away from Thomas, not wanting the understanding in his eyes to sway my decision. The heavily tinted windows make the night appear darker than it is, but there’s no disguising the neon glow of the Las Vegas lights drawing closer. I might have made a mistake in this city, one that would be nice to leave here, but it’s going to follow me no matter what I do. I might as well use it to my advantage. And if it helps Thomas in the process, then it’s an added bonus. My good deed for the year.
I turn back to him. “Fuck that,” I declare. “I’m in this. For better or worse, your highness.”
But it definitely won’t betill deaththat we part.
Chapter 12
Thomas
“Your parents are shitting themselves.”
My best mate’s voice carries through my hotel room as I set my phone down on the bedside table. I don’t doubt that my parents are currently panicking over the breaking news, but I wouldn’t know for certain, considering I blocked their numbers—along with Figgy’s and my siblings’.
Joshua, however, was saved from a similar fate because he knew I’d call him when I was ready to unload. It’s how our friendship has worked since we met in primary school, with me bottling everything up and him simply waiting for the moment when the cap pops off.
“I’ll call them soon and explain everything.” I kick off my shoes before pulling at the knot of my tie. “Or at least the parts of it that I can.”
Not that Stella and I have had time to discuss what parts that will entail. I invited her up so we could talk more, but she insisted we could do that tomorrow, then practically threw herself out of the car when we pulled up to her hotel. I called Joshua immediately after and confessed everything.
Considering Janelle knows the truth about us, Stella can’t be upset that I’ve told someone in my circle. Sure, Joshua’s not blood related—I, sadly, am not Nigerian—but he’s unquestionably my family.
“You’rereallygoing to go through with this?” Joshua asks for what must be the dozenth time. “It’s pretty dramatic.”
“It’s a fucking movie plot!” his wife calls out in the background. Obviously, I couldn’t have told Joshua anything without Amara knowing it as well. “I can’t wait to see how this one ends!”
“It ends with us happily divorced in a year,” I say, a little louder so she can hear me. “And yes, I know it’s ridiculous, but you have to admit it’s a genius way to make the best of a bad situation.”
